Case of the Footloose Doll (20 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“And as such are loyal and devoted to him?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have worked with him on many of his cases. It is part of your duties to be with Mr. Mason when he interviews witnesses, to take shorthand notes and keep Mr. Mason’s records straight in regard to the various cases?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You were with him when he interviewed Carl Harrod?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I submit to you that, on the second day of this month, you did not purchase any ice picks at the Arcade Novelty Company, that you had never seen Irma Karnes until after the second of this month. I make that suggestion to you. Miss Street, as a means of giving you a last opportunity to tell the truth. You have now testified under oath and testified falsely. A record has been made of your testimony. You have now committed perjury. I am giving you one last opportunity to retract.”

“My testimony is correct,” Della Street said.

“That is all,” Hamilton Burger announced.

Della Street glanced up at Perry Mason.

“No more questions, Miss Street,” Perry Mason said.

Della with her chin high left the witness stand, a dignity in her manner which added to her stature and subtracted from that of the discomfited, savagely angry Hamilton Burger.

Mason glanced at Judge Bolton, carefully surveying the jurist’s position on the bench.

“I am going to call the defendant Mildred Crest to the witness stand,” Mason said.

A sudden, tense hush swept the courtroom.

“All right,” Mason whispered to Mildred Crest “you’re on your own now. Remember that your weapon isn’t sex appeal but sincerity. Go to it!” Mildred Crest walked slowly to the witness stand, held up her right hand, took the oath, then faced Perry Mason.

“Mildred,” Perry said, “I want to get the story of what happened on the twenty—second day of last month, the telephone conversation you had with Robert Joiner. However, for the moment, before we go into that, I think you had better tell the Court about Robert Joiner. Who was he?”

“He was the man to whom I was engaged to be married,” Mildred said.“You were wearing his ring?”

“Yes.”

“You had announced your engagement to your friends?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Go ahead and tell about the telephone conversation that you had on the afternoon of the twenty-second. After that, tell us everything you did on the twenty-second, as nearly as you can remember.” 

In a low, self-conscious voice, Mildred Crest started to talk. Gradually, as the sound of her own voice gave her a certain measure of reassurance, she raised her eyes to Judge Bolton, straightened herself somewhat, and talked more rapidly.

Mason’s questions, searching and sympathetic, prompted her whenever she slowed down, until finally she had told the story of the phone call, the automobile accident, the determination to take the identity of Fern Driscoll and the resulting complications, the meeting with Carl Harrod, the ice picks which were purchased by Katherine Baylor, the subsequent visit of Mason and Della Street, and the replacement of the two missing ice picks by Della Street.

Mason turned to the prosecuting attorney.

“Cross-examine,” he said.

Hamilton Burger arose with ponderous dignity. His voice seemed sympathetic, his manner restrained.

He said, “As I understand it. Miss Crest, you suffered a terrific emotional shock on the afternoon of the twenty-second.”

“I did.”

“You had no suspicion that your fiance was embezzling money?”

“None whatever.”

“Certainly you must have realized that he was living beyond the salary he was earning.”

“I did. Everyone in our set did. We all accepted his statement that he came from a wealthy family and was working only to learn the business.”

“So when you found he was an embezzler, you didn’t want to have any part of him. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Yet,” Hamilton Burger said, raising his voice slightly and introducing an element of sarcasm, “within a few short hours after you had repudiated your boy friend because of his dishonesty, you yourself became a thief.”

“I did not,” she stormed.

“No?” Hamilton Burger asked in exaggerated surprise. “I perhaps misunderstood your testimony. I thought you said you took the purse of Fern Driscoll.”

“I did. But I took it for a purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“Simply so I could take over her identity until I had found myself.”

“That was the only reason you had for taking her purse?”

“Yes.”

“But there was four thousand dollars in her purse. Did you need that four thousand dollars in order to establish your identity as that of Fern Driscoll?”

“No.” ‘Yet you took that money?”

“It was in the purse.”

“Oh! It was in the purse,” Hamilton Burger said, mimicking her voice.

“Is it in the purse now?”

“No.”

“Who took it out?”

“I did.”

“And what did you do with it after you removed it?”

“I put it in an envelope, and marked on the envelope, ‘Property of Fern Driscoll.’“

“Indeed!” Hamilton Burger said. “And when did you do that?”

“That was before the police came to my apartment.”

“Yes, yes,” Hamilton Burger said smiling. “How long before?”

“Not long before.”

“That was after Mr. Mason and Della Street had been there?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t you write on the envelope ‘Property of Fern Driscoll’ at the suggestion of Mr. Mason?”

“Yes.”

“That was when you knew that Carl Harrod had been stabbed in the chest with the ice pick?”

“Yes.”

“In other words, all that was when you were expecting the police?”

“Yes.”

“And at that time you put the words on the envelope, ‘Property of Fern Driscoll’?”

“Yes.”

“Simply as window dressing so you could assume a position of virtuous integrity when you got on the witness stand?”

“I wasn’t thinking of getting on the witness stand.”

“No, no, you weren’t,” Hamilton Burger said smiling, “but your attorney was, Miss Crest. You did this at the advice of your attorney.”

“I don’t know what my attorney was thinking of.”

“No, no, of course not. But you couldn’t say that he wasn’t thinking of a little window dressing?”

“I tell you I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“You followed his advice?”

“Yes.”

“And up to that time you had done nothing to mark this money as being the property of Fern Driscoll?”

“I had put it to one side as her property.”

“You mean you hadn’t as yet spent it?”

“I had no intention of spending it.”

“Did you make any effort to find out who Fern Driscoll’s heirs might be?”

“No.”

“Did you communicate with the Public Administrator of San Diego County where the accident took place and tell him that you had some property belonging to Fern Driscoll?”

“No.”

“You say you were holding the money as the property of Fern Driscoll?”

“Yes.”

“Yet you yourself were taking over Fern Driscoll’s identification as well as her property?”

“I went under the name of Fern Driscoll.”

“Yes, yes. You found Fern Driscoll’s signature on her driving license, and you practiced signing the name of Fern Driscoll so that it would look like the signature on that driving license, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You wrote that name on the back of a check, didn’t you?”

“A check?” she asked.

“A check made out to you for your first week’s wages?”

“Yes,” she said, “but that was money I had earned.”

“Then why did you think it was necessary for you to try to copy the signature of Fern Driscoll as it appeared on the driving license?”

“Because sometime I thought I might have to produce that driving license as a means of identification.”

“You didn’t know anything about Fern Driscoll’s background?”

“No.”

“You didn’t know that she didn’t perhaps have loved ones who were anxiously awaiting some word from her?”

“I knew nothing about her.”

“You didn’t try to communicate with her loved ones? You didn’t let them know that she was dead?”

“No.”

“And you deliberately set fire to the automobile so as to aid you in your deception?”

“I did not.”

“The fire started as the result of a match which you had struck?”

“Yes, but it was accidental.”

“You had already struck one match?”

“Yes.”

“And no fire resulted?”

“That’s right.”

“So you tried again. You struck another match and that time a fire did result.”

“I tell you the fire was accidental.”

“You knew there was gasoline in the car?”

“Yes.”

“You could smell it?”

“Yes.”

“Notwithstanding that, you struck a match and held it over the gasoline fumes?”

“I was trying to see down into the car.”

“And when the fumes didn’t ignite, then you managed to drop the match so that the gasoline did ignite.”

“The match burned my fingers.”

“You have struck matches before?”

“Naturally.”

“You know that if you held them too long the flame will burn your fingers?”

“Yes.”

“Therefore, you ordinarily blow out the match before the flame gets to your fingers?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you do that this time?”

“I had other things on my mind.”

“I certainly agree with you on that,” Hamilton Burger said sarcastically.“Now then,” Hamilton Burger went on, “after Katherine Baylor had left you ice picks so that you could defend yourself in case you were assaulted, you asked her where she had bought them, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And she told you?”

“Yes.”

“So you immediately went down and bought more ice picks so that, in case you stabbed Carl Harrod with an ice pick, you could establish your innocence in the eyes of the police by showing that you still had the ice picks in your apartment that had been there when Miss Baylor had left?”

“I did not!”

“You thought that you could call on your friend Katherine Baylor and say, ‘Katherine Baylor left two ice picks here, didn’t you, Katherine?’ and Katherine would say, ‘Why, of course. Those are the ice picks that I purchased.’“

“I did not purchase any ice picks!”

“You not only took the four thousand dollars which didn’t belong to you, yet don’t consider yourself a thief, but you also bought three ice picks from the witness Irma Karnes, and now lie about it and presumably don’t consider that you’re committing perjury!”

“I didn’t buy the ice picks. Della Street bought those ice picks.”

“How do you know?”

“I heard Mr. Mason instruct her to buy them.”

“You have heard Irma Kames state positively that you purchased those ice picks?”

“She is mistaken.”

“You heard her make that statement?”

“Yes.”

“You heard her state that she was positive?”

“Yes.”

“And still in the face of that testimony, in the face of the fact that you stabbed Carl Harrod in the chest with an ice pick which you yourself had bought from Irma Kames, you wish to adhere to this story of your innocence, this fairy tale of having entered your apartment, of having picked up an ice pick and having some man rush at you so that he impaled his chest upon the ice pick?”

“That is the truth.”

Hamilton Burger looked at the clock. “If the Court please, I think I am about finished with the witness. However, it is approaching the hour of the evening adjournment and may I ask the Court for a recess at this time with the understanding that my questioning tomorrow morning will not exceed a very few minutes?”

“Very well,” Judge Bolton said. “We will continue the case until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. The defendant is remanded to custody.”

Chapter 16

PERRY MASON, Della Street, and Paul Drake stepped out of the elevator.

Drake said, “I’ll go on to my office and see what’s doing. I’ll be down to your place after a while, Perry.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Let me know if your men have uncovered anything important.”

Mason and Della Street continued walking on down the corridor, rounded the turn and paused in front of the door marked PERRY MASON. PRIVATE.

Perry Mason fitted his latchkey, clicked back the lock, entered his private office, scaled his hat over to a chair, said, “Well, it’s anybody’s guess. What did you think of her, Della?”

“I think she’s doing all right,” Della Street said.

“Judge Bolton is watching her like a hawk.”

“I know he is. He watches every move she makes, and he’s leaning forward.”

“And that,” Mason said, “is a good sign. If he had made up his mind to bind her over, he’d simply sit there in judicial impassivity, waiting for her to get done with her testimony and then he’d announce that since there seemed to be sufficient evidence to indicate a murder had been committed, and that there was reasonable ground to believe the defendant was the guilty person, he was going to bind her over.

“You see, that mix-up on the ice picks has introduced a new note into the entire case. It means that he must consider that Mildred Crest is a deliberate, cold-blooded killer, if she did the things the prosecution claims she did.”

“You mean purchasing those ice picks?” Della Street asked.

Mason nodded.

Della Street said, “I have a feeling that Judge Bolton believes me.”

“I think he does, too,” Mason said. “Well, I’ll let Gertie know that we’re back from court.”

Mason picked up his telephone and, when he heard the click on the line at the switchboard, said, “We’re back from court, Gertie. When you go home, fix the switchboard so outside calls come in on Della Street’s telephone, will you? We’re expecting—”

Gertie’s voice interrupted him. She was so excited that she could hardly talk. “Just a minute! Please . . . Hold on . . . Just wait!” She hung up the telephone.

Mason turned to Della Street, said, “Something’s got into Gertie.

She’s really steamed up about something.”

Gertie, the incurable romanticist, came bursting into the private office, her eyes wide. “Mr. Mason, he’s here!”