Erle Gardner - The Case of the Rolling Bones

“Occasionally,” Kittering admitted to Judge Knox, “we have to condone certain irregularities in order to combat criminal activities. It’s a case where the ends justify the means.”

“The ends in this case,” Mason observed, “would have been the conviction of an innocent man of first degree murder.”

Kittering jumped to his feet. “You,” he said, “can’t...”

“I really think, counselor,” Judge Knox interrupted, “that you should get busy and start discharging the real duties of your office.”

Mason smiled across at Judge Knox. “The attitude of the prosecution,” he said, “is that they don’t care so much about who committed a murder as about keeping me from winning a case.”

“That’s not true,” Kittering shouted.

Judge Knox fastened him with a stern eye. “It seems to be true,” he observed, and then added, “If your office has been listening to privileged communications over a tapped wire, it would seem that your position is definitely precarious. You understand, counselor, that if Alden Leeds had been guilty, the situation might have been different. Leeds’ innocence, however, puts your office in an entirely different position, and puts Mason in a different position, legally, ethically, and morally.”

“Someday,” Kittering flared, “Mason will defend a guilty man, and then...”

Mason yawned, and said, “Well, if counsel doesn’t care to confide his discussion to the present, and wishes to neglect the duties of his office, to waste time in idle speculation on the future, I’d like to ask him what he thinks about railroad stocks as an investment...”

Kittering flung himself out of the door.

Judge Knox stared across at Perry Mason. “You have to admit,” he said, “that you skate on pretty thin ice, Mason — how long have you known Serle was the guilty party?”

“Not very long,” Mason admitted. “I should have known it a lot sooner than I did.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Mason explained, “it’s this way. Right from the first, the evidence showed dinner had been ordered at the Blue and White Restaurant, not in the usual manner, but in a most extraordinary manner. In other words, they didn’t ask the waiter what was on the menu and then make a selection. The waiter was told to get lamb chops, green peas, and potatoes, and if he didn’t have them available, to get them. Then again, the evidence showed right from the first that the plates were empty. It’s unusual for two men who are engaged in a hurried conference to order a dinner in that manner. It’s unusual for two men to both order the same thing. It’s unusual for men to clean up everything on the plates, and it’s absolutely unique for a man who has been eating a lamb chop to devour the bone. And you’ll remember the waiter testified that the plates were bare. Nothing remained on them.

“Moreover, it’s always been my idea that when a man has an iron-clad alibi in a murder case, it’s a very good thing to inspect that alibi closely. While a man who has a genuine alibi can’t have committed a murder, nevertheless, a man who has committed a deliberate murder always tries to provide himself with an alibi. Serle was the only one involved who had an alibi. It looked iron-clad on the face of it, but alibis should never be taken at their face value.

“It was quite apparent that the dead man had a large sum of cash in his possession. That money disappeared. It would seem, therefore, that at least one of the motives for the crime was robbery. Now Alden Leeds might have killed him because of that blackmail business, but he would never have robbed the corpse — not unless he had done so in an attempt to throw the officers off the trail. If he had done that, he would have been far too cautious to have left his fingerprints all over the apartment.

“I knew that Serle ate regularly at the Home Kitchen Café. I knew that they had a weekly menu — that is, each day of the week they featured a special, the same dish on the same day.

“The murder was committed on a Friday. Serle accompanied Conway or Milicant or Hogarty — or whatever you want to call him — to his apartment. They were both smoking cigars. At that time in the evening, a cigar usually represents an after-dinner smoke. And then I suddenly remembered what I myself had eaten at the Home Kitchen Café on Friday night — roast lamb, baked potatoes, green peas. And I had the menu that they use week after week to prove I wasn’t dreaming! A good chemical analysis would probably show the difference between beef and lamb after the digestive processes have stopped working, but the difference between roast lamb and broiled lamb, never.”

Judge Knox said, “Personally, Mason, I think it’s a most remarkable piece of detective work, an example of sheer deductive genius.”

Mason shook his head. “I’ll never forgive myself for becoming so engrossed in the incidental matters. After all, Judge, that’s one thing a detective should guard against. He should never let his attention become so concentrated on the incidental matters that he feels they are other than mere incidentals.”

Judge Knox studied him curiously. “What,” he asked, “were the incidental matters which so engrossed you?”

“Minor matters,” Mason said, vaguely, “interesting but purely incidental.”

Judge Knox smiled. “Are you, by any chance, referring to the identity of John Milicant as Bill Hogarty?”

Mason said, “That really was a surprise to me, although I should have appreciated the significance of that clue of the frostbitten foot.”

Judge Knox let the smile fade from his lips, although his eyes remained kindly.

“Mason,” he said, “the proof that Milicant was Hogarty certainly seems rather vague and sketchy. If Milicant had been blackmailing Leeds, and one of Leeds’ relatives had called on him for an explanation, wouldn’t it have been only natural for Milicant to have used the documents in his possession to substantiate a spurious claim made by way of justification to the nephew that he actually was the Bill Hogarty who had been wronged by Leeds years ago? Wouldn’t this be the logical way to fabricate a justification for blackmail?”

Mason’s face showed surprise. “That,” he said, “is an interesting question.”

“And do you want me to understand that you have never given it any consideration?” the judge asked.

“Well,” Mason said with a grin, “no oral consideration.”

Judge Knox sighed. “Mason, I confess to a liking for you. I like the colorful life you lead. I like the dashing way you shortcut the conventional methods. I like your career of adventurous excitement. But has it ever occurred to you that Kittering’s prophecy is undoubtedly correct? The time will come when you will find yourself defending a guilty client.”

Mason arose from his chair. He saw fit to favor the judge with a grin. “He won’t be guilty,” he said, “until they prove him guilty.”

Knox sighed. “I’m afraid you’re incorrigible.”

Mason bowed. “Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, “for the compliment.”

Mason sat in his office, reading the afternoon paper. The sob sisters had literally “gone to town” on the story. Many of the facts which were set forth had been obtained through an interview with Perry Mason, attorney for Alden Leeds, and the reporters reciprocated this donation of information by singing extravagant praises of the manner in which Perry Mason had solved a puzzling case.

Alden Leeds and Bill Hogarty had been in the Yukon in 1906 and 1907. They had fought over a woman. Hogarty had tried to kill Leeds. Leeds had shot him in self-defense. Hogarty had crawled away into the dark, and when it came daylight, Leeds had been unable to find him. It was a wild country.