Erle Gardner - Case of the Silent Partner

She whirled to face the door of the courtroom where Tragg, having just entered, smiled at the deputy, then pushed his way through a little knot of people gathered in the aisle, and came walking rapidly toward them. His smile was cordial. “Good afternoon,” he said.

Mildreth Faulkner tilted her chin and turned so that the point of her shoulder was toward him.

Tragg said, “Come, come, Miss Faulkner. Don’t take it that way.”

She said icily, “I don’t like lies, and I hate liars.”

He flushed.

Mason put his hand on her arm. “Take it easy,” he cautioned.

Tragg shifted his eyes to Mason. “No hard feelings, Mason?” he asked.

“No hard feelings,” Mason said. “I can dish it out, and I can take it. But I can’t help feeling concerned about my client.”

Tragg said, “I want to talk with you about that.”

“Go ahead.”

“First, however, I have a disagreeable duty to perform.”

“Yes,” Mildreth Faulkner said icily, “you want to carry water on both shoulders. You want to be friendly with people, but you betray their confidences and...”

“Easy,” Mason interrupted. “Let’s see what the lieutenant has to say.”

Tragg’s face was a shade darker than usual. He addressed his remarks entirely to Mason, carefully leaving Mildreth Faulkner out of the conversation. “I’m sorry, Mason, but you made an admission in open court that you had this stock certificate. I have no alternative but to demand that you turn it over to me, and am also notifying you that you’re going to be called in front of the grand jury.”

“Why?”

Tragg said, “You know Churchill, don’t you?”

“You mean Loring Churchill, the deputy district attorney?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“That’s nothing,” Mason said promptly. “I don’t like him. He’s an egotistical, academic nonentity. He has the brains of an encyclopedia, and the personality of a last year’s almanac.”

Tragg laughed. “Well, anyway, he sent me up here to get that stock.”

“How did he know I had it?”

“As soon as you made the statement in open court, we were advised. Churchill was waiting for that.”

Mason said, “Well, you don’t get the stock.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been served with a subpoena ordering me to bring that stock into court.”

Tragg said, “Don’t adopt that attitude, Mason. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“You’re in a jam.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve suppressed evidence.”

“What’s the evidence?”

“That stock certificate.”

Mason said, “I stood up in open court and admitted that I had it. That doesn’t sound like concealing it.”

“You wouldn’t have made that admission unless you’d been served with a subpoena, and, even then, you wouldn’t have admitted it unless I’d trapped Mrs. Lawley into admitting she gave it to you.”

“Yes,” Mildreth Faulkner interrupted, “you should feel very proud of yourself for that — a brave police officer!”

Mason said, “Well, Tragg, that’s a matter of opinion — whether I’d have admitted it or not.”

“Well, I have my opinion,” Tragg said, his lips tightening.

“You’re entitled to it,” Mason told him.

“I’m also entitled to the stock.”

“Not unless you get an order of court. I was ordered to be in court as a witness and have that stock certificate with me. I’m here. I have that stock certificate.”

“Judge Grosbeck would understand the situation.”

“If he does, he can make an order.”

“That will take time.”

“So it will.”

“And when I try to serve that order on you, how do I know I’m going to be able to find you?”

“You don’t.”

Tragg said, “Churchill will go up in the air over this. He won’t like it a bit.”

“Too bad,” Mason said. “I suppose I’ll spend a sleepless night now, knowing that Loring Churchill doesn’t like me.”

Tragg said, “Listen, Mason, you’re on one side of the fence. I’m on the other. I get a kick out of you. You fight hard, and at times you fight dirty, but you’re always fighting. If you turn over that stock certificate, Churchill probably won’t go ahead with this grand jury business. I’d like to see you keep in the clear.”

“To hell with Churchill.”

“That’s your final answer?”

“No. If he turns Mrs. Lawley loose within an hour, he’ll get that stock certificate. Otherwise, he’ll get it when I get damn good and ready to give it to him.”

Tragg said, “I’m afraid Mrs. Lawley is going to face a jury.”

“What charge?”

“First-degree murder.”

“Decided to pin it on her, have you?”

“We have no alternative. Her husband made some damaging statements.”

“Damaging to him or her?”

“Her.”

Mildreth Faulkner forgot her animosity for Tragg in the shock given her by that information. “You mean Bob Lawley said something which made the case bad for Carla?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Tragg said, and then hastened to add, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, I guess, but — well, to tell you the truth, Mason, I’m not very happy about it.”

“Why not?”

Tragg said, “Bob Lawley impresses me as being a rat, a heel, and a fourflusher. His wife seems a dead game square-shooter.”

“What did Bob tell you?” Mason asked.

Tragg hesitated. “Look here, Mason, you have a fast mind. You’re usually able to get your clients out, one way or another. I suppose Churchill would give me the devil for this, but...”

“Well, go on.”

Tragg said suddenly, “I’m a servant of the people. I’m a cog in a big system. I play the game to get results. I’m dealing with criminals, and I have a job to do.”

“Why the prelude?” Mason asked.

“Because I’m sorry that I did what I did with Mrs. Lawley. If I’d realized how grave her condition was, I wouldn’t have done it. I’ll tell you that frankly.”

“You’ve done it,” Mason said.

Tragg said, “That’s right, I’ve done it, and I’m not backing up on it. She’s going to be treated just as any other prisoner would be treated. Only — well, this is a situation the law doesn’t provide for. A woman who’s dangerously ill. The slightest excitement may prove fatal.”

“Let’s hear what Bob Lawley told you,” Mason said by way of answer.

“Lawley,” Tragg said bitterly, “seems all broken up over his wife’s condition. He cries and whimpers about it, and we let him in to see her, and he got down on his knees and kissed the sleeve of her nightgown.”

“Go on.”

“Well, just before that, he’d broken down and told the police everything he knew.”

“What did he know?”

“He said he’d taken his car out, that he’d picked up a friend, that the friend wanted to borrow the car. Lawley had some telephoning he wanted to do so he drove in to the curb down by Coulter Street, that he let the friend drive the automobile away, that his wife was following him, that the car went to Lilac Canyon, that his wife went there after the car, and went to Lynk’s house.”

“How does he know all this?”

“Because she told him.”

“And he told the officers that?”

Tragg nodded.

“It’s a privileged and confidential communication,” Mason said. “No one should ever have inquired into what his wife told him.”

Tragg said, “At first he was shaking his fists at the ceiling, swearing that he’d never divulge one single thing she had told him. Ten minutes later he was sobbing and spilling everything he knew.”