Erle Gardner: The Case of the Haunted Husband

“These are not your keys?”

“No, sir. Absolutely not.”

“Do you happen to have your keys in your pocket?”

“Why... yes.”

“May I see them, please?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with it.”

“The witness will produce his keys,” Judge Cortright ordered. Homan reluctantly took a leather-covered key container from his pocket.

Mason said, “Let’s compare these keys and see we can find any that check. Why, yes, here are two that are identical. Can you tell me what this key in your key container is to, Mr. Homan?”

“My yacht.”

“A lock on the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Now this other key. Do you have one that is identical with that key?”

“I wouldn’t know. I can remember what all my keys look like.”

Mason checked through the key container. “No,” he said, “you don’t seem to have one.”

Homan shifted his position.

“Now you don’t think these are your keys?”

“No.”

“You didn’t leave your keys in the car by mistake when you parked it — the day it was stolen?”

“No.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes.”

Mason jingled the key ring. “This third key — the one you haven’t been able to identify — you haven’t any idea what lock this key fits?”

“No.”

Mason regarded him steadily for several seconds. “Eventually, Mr. Homan,” he said at length, “the police are going to find the lock this key fits. It would be unfortunate if that should prove to be...”

“Wait a minute,” Homan interrupted. “I am very absent-minded when I am working. I may have left my keys in the car when I parked it.”

“Then these may be your keys?”

Judge Cortright said sternly, “Do you want this court to understand you don’t know your own keys?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I have so many keys... I am afraid that... well, you see, I am always giving keys to servants and chauffeurs, and then getting them back. These may have been some old keys I had left in the glove compartment. Yes, that must be it, some keys I had inadvertently left in the glove compartment.”

Judge Cortright looked down at the witness for several contemptuous seconds, then said to Perry Mason, “Go ahead with your questions, Counselor.”

Mason smiled. “I am finished.”

“What!” Hanley exclaimed in surprise.

“I have no further questions,” Mason announced.

Tragg and Hanley whispered, then Hanley got up and crossed over to Mason. “What is the idea?” he whispered. “You have got him on the run.”

Mason said, “You can question him if you want to.”

“Not me,” Hanley said. “I can’t ride him with spurs. His studio would be gunning for my job before noon.”

Judge Cortright looked down at Mason. “Counsel will understand,” he said, “that the court is interested in this phase of the testimony. There have been enough facts adduced to cast some doubt in the court’s mind, but not enough as yet to overcome all of the evidence introduced by the prosecution.”

Mason said, “I am sorry, Your Honor, but I have no further questions.”

Judge Cortright hesitated, then turned to Homan. “Mr. Homan, were you driving that car on Wednesday the nineteenth?”

“No, sir. Absolutely not.”

“Do you know who was?”

“No, sir.”

“Where were you on Wednesday the nineteenth?”

“On Wednesday the nineteenth,” Homan said, “I was at my residence in Beverly Hills. As soon as I missed the car, and verified the fact that my younger brother was out in my yacht, fishing, so that there was no possibility he could have unlocked it with his keys, and taken it without consulting me, I reported the car as being stolen to the city police at Beverly Hills. A representative of the police called on me to ask me the details. That can be verified.”

“That was Wednesday the nineteenth,” Judge Cortright asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“At what time?”

“I would say about five or six o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Have you any explanation as to how this stain of lipstick got on your shirt?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Judge Cortright looked down at Lieutenant Tragg. “Is there,” he asked, “any reason to doubt this evidence? In other words, is there anything to indicate it has been fabricated?”

“I hadn’t thought so,” Lieutenant Tragg said, his voice showing that he was badly perplexed. “But apparently — well, something must be wrong. Of course, if Mr. Homan can account for his whereabouts at the time of the accident...”

“I can,” Homan said calmly. “I was at my home in Beverly Hills. I reported the car as being stolen as I have said. I had a conference with a representative of the police of Beverly Hills, and then I went to the studio, taking the script on which I had been working and had a conference with a certain department head.”

“What time did that conference start?” Judge Cortright asked.

“At about nine o’clock in the evening, and continued through until nearly midnight.”

Cortright and Tragg exchanged glances, then Tragg and Hanley went into a whispered conference.

Mason said suavely, “These, gentlemen, were your questions, not mine.”

Judge Cortright looked down at Mason. “Evidently, Counselor,” he said with some acerbity, “you knew exactly where to stop in your examination.”

Mason smiled serenely at the baffled judge. “Quite evidently I did, Your Honor.”

Hanley got slowly to his feet. “Your Honor,” he said, “some of this evidence comes as a distinct surprise to us. We had anticipated that the examination of the witness would be more complete, that there would be some effort to show the identity of all the keys on this key ring. It might even be the police could furnish Mr. Mason with an opportunity to get this evidence, or at any rate to see if this witness... Well, we shall cooperate with Mr. Mason in any and every way.” He stopped and looked across at Mason, but Mason returned his gaze with eyes which showed only bland disinterest.

Hanley turned back to Judge Cortright. “The situation is one which is very peculiar, Your Honor. The district attorney’s office doesn’t wish to be a party to any injustice. As the court may well know, further developments in this case have become exceedingly grave and somewhat complicated. We feel that in justice to all concerned, the hearing should be continued while we check Mr. Homan’s testimony carefully.”

“Does that mean I have got to come back here again?” Homan demanded indignantly.

Judge Cortright studied the indignant picture producer for several thoughtful seconds, then said quietly, “It does. The court will continue this case until Monday morning at ten o’clock at which time the witnesses will return to court.”

“But, Your Honor, I can’t keep trotting back and forth here to court...”

“You are a witness,” Judge Cortright said. “Furthermore, Mr. Homan, there are some matters in your testimony which have not been explained to the court’s satisfaction. The case is continued until Monday morning at ten o’clock. The defendant remains on bail, Mr. Deputy District Attorney?”

“She is on bail at the present time.”

“Is there any motion to have that bail increased?”

Hanley said, “No, Your Honor, I guess not,” and then added, “The defendant seems to have a perfect and complete alibi for all of yesterday evening when the second murder was committed.”

“Very well,” Judge Cortright said, “the court will take a recess for ten minutes, and then take up the Case of People versus Sampson.”

As Judge Cortright left the bench, Tragg came over to Mason. “What is the idea, Mason?” he asked.