Richard Deming - This Game of Murder

The judge said, “If you’re prepared to establish that this happened, put the boy on the stand.”

“I haven’t discussed it with him, Your Honor. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thought. The point is that the police didn’t interview him either — or anyone else on that subject. There are neighbor children around there all the time. Perhaps one of them found the rope and put it in the garage. Or perhaps the cat burglar himself had stolen it from the garage and for some odd reason decided to put it back when he was through with it. He’s probably a nut, so you wouldn’t necessarily expect him to behave rationally. What I’m trying to point out is that there are numerous alternate interpretations of the evidence, and the prosecution has fastened on just one.”

“Yours don’t impress me as being very convincing,” Judge Gandy said. “So far the prosecution’s seems most probable.”

“But the alternate possibilities establish reasonable doubt,” Quillan insisted.

“This isn’t a jury trial,” the judge said. “If we applied the principle of reasonable doubt to hearings, no one would ever be remanded for grand jury action. I have to base my decision on the most likely interpretation of evidence.”

“Then let’s touch on another point,” Quillan said. “The prosecution hadn’t even suggested a motive for murder. There has been no evidence presented that this couple wasn’t happily married. Even if there had been, the defendant happens to be a wealthy woman with everything, including all property which was jointly enjoyed by both herself and her husband, in her own name. Bruce Case had nothing but the income from his law practice as a junior partner in my firm. I’m prepared to establish all this through witnesses, if I have to. There would have been no financial disadvantage whatever to my client if she had divorced her husband. Why would she bother to kill him?”

The judge looked at Arnold Ross. “That’s a strong point.”

“We have a motive, Your Honor,” the D.A. said. “In view of the strength of the evidence we’ve already presented, I didn’t think it would be necessary to prolong the hearing.”

“The court isn’t in that much of a hurry,” Judge Gandy said. “I suggest you go ahead and establish your motive.”

The two attorneys returned to their tables. Marshall had a sinking feeling in his stomach, certain that Arnold Ross was going to call him as the next witness. He was surprised when the D.A. called for a Gail Thomas.

There was a stir in the courtroom as an attractive blonde in her early twenties rose from her seat and came forward. She wore a tight summer dress which hugged a slim, shapely body and emphasized a bosom which really didn’t need emphasizing. The skirt was a bit shorter than was customary in Runyon City and she wore a bit more make-up than the average local woman did, but she didn’t look cheap. She gave a rather glamorous show-business effect.

Marshall recognized her as a girl he had seen on the streets a couple of times in recent weeks, for in a town of only twelve thousand you are eventually bound to see every resident on the streets at some time or other, but he had no idea who she was.

When she was sworn in and had given her name as Gail Thomas, Arnold Ross said, “Is that Miss or Mrs.?”

“Miss,” the blonde said. “I’m not married.” She threw a strangely vindictive look at Betty as she said it, as though somehow the fact that she wasn’t married were Betty’s fault.

Betty was examining the girl without expression.

The D.A. asked, “Where do you live, Miss Thomas?”

“At 126 Howard. I have a two-room apartment.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a beautician at Dell’s Beauty Parlor.”

“How long have you been a resident of Runyon City?”

“About four weeks. Before that I lived in Buffalo.”

“Were you acquainted with the deceased Bruce Case?”

“Yes?”

“What was the nature of your relationship?”

“I’ve been his mistress for the past two years,” Gail Thomas said. “We were going to be married as soon as he divorced that woman over there.”

There was such a reaction of whispering in the courtroom that the judge had to pound his gavel. Marshall looked at Betty. She had taken her eyes from the witness and was staring straight ahead.

Arnold Ross said, “Are you also acquainted with the defendant, Mrs. Elizabeth Case?”

“I met her once. I had seen her around town a couple of times before that, and somebody told me who she was.”

“What were the circumstances of this single meeting? First, when did it occur?”

“About a week ago. Last Friday at around five-thirty p.m. Just two days before she shot Bruce.”

The D.A. said, “Please describe the meeting.”

“She was waiting in front of my apartment in her sports car when I got home from work. I knew who she was, because as I told you, somebody had pointed her out to me downtown. When I walked into the building she got out of the car and followed me. She came up behind me as I was putting the key in my door and said, ‘Are you Gail Thomas?’

“I said yes, she told me who she was, though I already knew, and she asked to talk to me. I suspected what was coming, but there wasn’t much I could do, so I invited her in.

“Inside she refused a seat and just looked me up and down. She had a real icy stare. Finally she said, ‘So you’re the woman my husband has been sleeping with. I don’t want anything in particular. I merely wanted a look at you so I could decide what to do.’ The way she said it, I knew she had already decided what to do, and it wasn’t divorce.”

Henry Quillan’s roared, “Objection!” drowned out the murmur in the courtroom.

The judge said to the clerk, “Strike that last sentence from the record.”

Arnold Ross said, “Your witness,” and sat down.

Henry Quillan had a prolonged whispered conference with Betty before rising to approach the witness stand.

“You didn’t finish your story, Miss Thomas,” he said. “What happened after the remark you allege the defendant made?”

“Nothing. She turned around and walked out.”

“She made no threats?”

“Just with her eyes. If looks could kill, I’d be dead. I warned Bruce she was going to do something—”

“Confine yourself to answering my questions,” Quillan snapped. “Did the defendant at any time say anything to you which you haven’t already repeated?”

“No, sir.”

The defense lawyer stood with a brooding expression on his gaunt, Lincolnesque face for a moment before saying, “You mentioned that you were Bruce Case’s mistress for two years, yet you’ve only lived here four weeks. Will you explain that?”

“Sure. We met in Buffalo two years ago and he always came there to see me. It’s only thirty miles. He wanted me to move here so it would be more convenient. So I came down and got a job and rented an apartment.”

Quillan said, “You may step down,” and went back to his table.

The district attorney said, “We have no more witnesses to present at this time, Your Honor.”

“Does the defense now wish to present any witnesses?” the judge asked.

“Just a moment, if the court pleases?” Quillan said, and went into another conference with Betty. After a few minutes he said, “I wish to place the defendant on the stand, Your Honor.”

It seemed obvious that Quillan had hoped not to have to subject Betty to the prosecution’s cross-examination, but had decided the only hope of counteracting Gail Thomas’ damaging testimony was to get Betty’s version of the meeting into the record.

He asked no questions at all about the night of the shooting. Marshall recognized this as a maneuver to restrict her cross-examination to events preceding that night. Since the D.A. could cross-examine only on subjects brought out in direct examination, he was automatically barred from asking her anything about the shooting. Presumably Quillan felt that Chief Meister’s testimony had brought out her excuse for shooting her husband well enough, and preferred to leave it at that.