Erle Gardner - Case of the Silent Partner

She hesitated, then shook her head.

“You’ll have to speak up,” Judge Grosbeck said, “so the court reporter can take down your answer.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think anyone — oh, perhaps some of my intimate friends... Irma Radine for one.”

“And is Mr. Lawley an intimate friend?”

“No,” she said quickly.

“Mr. Coll?”

“No,” and her tone was sharply defiant.

“Mr. Magard, perhaps?”

She said, “Mr. Magard is an employer rather than a friend.”

“But he knows about the way you eat candy?”

She hesitated, disliking to give an affirmative answer which would make a plain implication. Judge Grosbeck was leaning across the big mahogany desk now, looking down at the witness, studying her facial expressions. Frank Labley, plainly puzzled, apprehensive of the manner in which the hearing was developing, quite apparently afraid to try to stop the proceedings by objections, sat forward on the edge of his chair, turning his head from the witness to Mason, then back to the witness.

“Answer the question,” Mason said.

“Mr. Magard knew that I had worked in a candy factory.”

“How did he know that?”

“He hired me.”

“That is, you were working in the candy factory when Mr. Magard hired you to work in the Golden Horn?”

“No. He looked up my record.”

“And you don’t consider Mr. Coll an intimate friend?”

“No.”

“He was at one time?”

“Well... well, it depends on what you call a friend.”

“And how about Mr. Lawley? He was at one time?”

“Well, not — oh, I guess so.”

“Did Mr. Peavis ever give you candy?”

“Yes. Several times. He’s nice.”

“And saw you eating it?”

“Yes.”

Mason said, “I think, Your Honor, that now I will ask for a continuance until tomorrow morning. I am, of course, aware that it is a matter addressed to the discretion of the court and...”

“No objection on our part,” Labley interposed hurriedly.

“Very well,” Judge Grosbeck ruled. “Pursuant to stipulation of counsel the matter is continued until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

For a moment it seemed that Judge Grosbeck wanted to ask a question of Esther Dilmeyer, then he quite evidently changed his mind and decided to continue in his rôle of judicial impassivity. He rose and walked into his chambers.

Magard walked down the aisle of the courtroom from the seat where he had been an interested spectator. He went directly to Mason. His manner was truculent. “What,” he asked, “is the idea of trying to drag me into that candy business?”

“I didn’t,” Mason said, standing up at the counsel table, pushing documents down into his brief case. “I merely asked questions. The witness answered them.”

“Well, you asked them in a funny way.”

Mason smiled. “It’s a habit I have, particularly when I’m dealing with people who try to dictate to me.”

Magard moved a step closer. His appraisal of the lawyer was coldly hostile. In such a manner might an expert hangman survey a condemned prisoner, studying his build, his weight, the muscles of his neck.

“Well?” Mason asked.

Magard said, “I don’t like it,” turned abruptly on his heel, and walked away.

Mildreth Faulkner walked over to put her hand on Mason’s arm. “I probably don’t appreciate the fine legal points, but it seems to me you have them guessing.”

Mason said, “I think I’m on the track of something. Did you see Carlotta?”

The animation left her face. She nodded, and tears glistened in her eyes.

“How is she?”

“Pretty bad. After they got her to the receiving hospital, the doctor took charge. He said that for at least forty-eight hours she was to have no visitors. He made an exception in my case because she kept asking for me, and he thought it would make her feel better. He warned me I mustn’t talk about the case.”

“Did you?”

“Not exactly. But she had some things to tell me. I tried to stop her at first, but then decided it was better for her to talk and get it off her chest. It seemed to be worrying her.”

“What in particular?” Mason asked.

“They trapped her into admitting that she’d given you the stock certificate. They told her that you’d put yourself in the clear by turning it over to the police. Mr. Mason, how can police be so absolutely brutal, so utterly unscrupulous?”

“They figure they’re dealing with criminals and the ends justify the means.”

“Well, that’s no way to cope with crime. They lie and resort to brutality. They can’t ever get people’s respect doing that. They’re almost as bad as the criminals.”

Mason said, “You’re bitter now because it’s been brought so close to home — and after all, it’s an exceptional case.”

She said, “It’s going to be touch and go with Carla now. I don’t know whether she’ll pull through. She looks infinitely worse than I’ve ever seen her — and she was getting along so well.”

“I know,” Mason said sympathetically. “This is the very situation I was trying to avoid.”

“Well, it isn’t your fault. If she’d followed your instructions, she’d have been all right. She realizes that now.”

“And she hasn’t told them anything else — only about the stock?”

“That’s all, but with the evidence they have against her, that’s enough. Mr. Mason, she just can’t go ahead with this... And if they should convict her... Perhaps it might be better... better if...”

“She didn’t pull through?” Mason asked.

She tried in vain to blink back the tears, but nodded.

Mason said, “Something one of the witnesses said this afternoon gave me a new idea.”

“You mean there’s hope?”

“Lots of it.”

“If Bob would only be a man,” she said, “and tell the truth, he could save her. If he’d just admit that he was out there, and that she followed him... But Bob killed him, so naturally he won’t say anything that would risk his precious neck.”

“Bob probably doesn’t know that she followed him,” Mason said.

“He most certainly does,” Mildreth said indignantly. “Remember that Bob came to the Clearmount Hotel and got Carla. He drove her away, and they talked a lot. And do you know, Bob lied to her? He absolutely wouldn’t admit that he’d ever surrendered the stock or that he went out there to see Lynk? Can you imagine that — after she followed him herself, saw him with her own eyes going up to Lilac Canyon?”

“How does he account for that?”

“Well, you know Bob. He always has the most wonderful explanations. He says that before he’d gone ten blocks from the house, he picked up a friend of his. He won’t tell the friend’s name. He says that he drove the friend uptown, that the friend wanted to borrow the car for about an hour, and Bob stepped out and let him take the car.”

“Your sister believes that?”

“Of course she believes it! She’d believe anything he told her. She makes me sick.”

“Could that have happened?”

“I don’t see how. Carla was following him all the time. Of course, there were a few times when she got behind in traffic. Bob was shrewd enough to ask her first about the times she’d temporarily lost sight of the car. Then he had this changing of drivers occur at one of those times — the big four flusher.”

“Did you point out to Carla that...”

“Oh, I tried to, but what’s the use. I could see that she was very weak. She wanted to tell me these things because she wanted you to know them. That Lieutenant Tragg! If I ever get a chance to give him a piece of my mind, I...”

“You will,” Mason said. “Here he comes now.”