The Case of the Troubled Trustee (17 page)

"Now, let's get this time element straight," Bailey said. "You tried to follow the defendant?"

"That's right."

"He was driving, as you said, like crazy. He went through red lights and boulevard stops?"

"Three red lights; one boulevard stop."

"You lost him?"

"That's right."

"You returned to the telephone booth?"

"Yes, sir."

"You picked up your recording device and listened to the conversation?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long, in your opinion, was that from the time you had left the telephone booth following the defendant?"

"Probably five minutes."

"And then you went directly to the Barclay Country Club?"

"Yes."

"And you waited at the Barclay Country Club for how long?"

"Eleven minutes… nearly twelve minutes."

"And then the defendant came Out?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what did he do?"

"He drove down the road for a mile and threetenths."

"And then what?"

"Then he brought his car to an abrupt stop and started backing up."

"What did you do?"

"I had to drive on past him so he wouldn't be suspicious."

"And then what?"

"I went half a mile down the road, jumped out of the car, put a bumper jack under the rear bumper and acted as if I had a flat tire."

"And what happened?"

"Within a matter of seconds the defendant's car went past me again, going at high speed."

"What did you do?"

"I hurriedly removed the bumper jack, tossed it in the back of the car, and stepped on the throttle."

"And were able to follow the defendant?"

"Yes, sir."

"How far did you follow him?"

"To Ensenada."

"Where in Ensenada?"

"To the Siesta del Tarde Auto Court."

"And then what did you do?"

"I telephoned Paul Drake that the subject was registered at the Siesta del Tarde Auto Court under the name of Frank Kerry."

"And then what?"

"Then Perry Mason and his secretary, Della Street, showed up and I told them where the defendant was and they went to his room."

"Then what?"

"Then the Mexican police came."

Bailey smiled. "Cross-examine," he said to Mason.

Mason said, "Your wire recording gives only one side of the conversation?"

"That's right."

"You don't know whom the defendant was calling?"

"No, sir."

"You don't know what words were used on the other end of the line?"

"No, sir."

"That's all," Mason said.

Judge Alvarado said, "It is now time for the evening adjournment. I congratulate counsel for both sides on the speed with which this trial is progressing.

"During the evening the jurors will not converse among themselves or with anyone else about the case, nor will they read newspaper accounts of the trial or listen to anything on radio or television pertaining to the trial. They will avoid forming or expressing any opinion until the case is finally submitted for a decision. If anyone should approach any of you jurors to discuss the case, report that matter to the Court.

"Court will take a recess until ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

Chapter Sixteen

Mason sat in the visiting room of the jail and let his eyes bore into those of his client.

"This," he said, "is your last chance."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"You can't ever change your story from this point on," Mason warned. "If you ever get on the witness stand, tell your story and then are forced to change it under cross-examination, you're a gone goose."

Dutton nodded.

"And don't discount Flamilton Burger's ability as a cross-examiner."

"Do you think I'm going to have to get on the stand?"

"You're going to have to get on the stand," Mason said. "They have a dead open-and-shut case against you. You're not only going to have to get on the stand, but you are going to have to persuade the jury that you're telling the truth.

"Now then, if they catch you in some little lie-just anything-the time you get up in the morning, how many lumps of sugar you had in your coffee, just anything that is false, they're going to hold it against you all the way down the line."

"I've told you the truth," Dutton said.

"You aren't trying to protect someone? You aren't shading the facts in order to make it easy on Desere Ellis?"

He shook his head.

"And you aren't trying to protect yourself?"

"No, I've told you the truth."

"Palmer had given you a number to call on the dot at nine-forty-five?"

Dutton nodded.

"You went to the telephone booth, called this number and were given another number, both numbers were pay stations, a voice told you to meet Palmer at the seventh tee at the Barclay Country Club when you called the second number?"

"Right."

"Now, was that last voice a woman's?"

"I don't know. At the time I thought it was a man trying to talk in a high-pitched voice so as to disguise it; now I just don't know. All I know is it was high-pitched for a man's voice, low-pitched for a woman's."

"What was the number you called?"

"It was a phone booth. I've forgotten the number. Palmer told me that he'd have someone there to take the call and tell me where he could meet me; that it would be a pay station I was calling so not to try to do anything funny."

"Now then, you remained in the phone booth and called a number?"

"Right."

"That was the number of a pay station?"

"That's right."

"And what happened when you called that number?"

"A voice answered, said, 'Take a pencil, write down this number and call it in exactly ten seconds-no more, no less.' I feel sure that first voice was a man's voice- Well, I'm not absolutely certain. It was sort of disguised."

"And you wrote down the number?"

"Yes."

"What was the idea of the two numbers?"

"Apparently so I couldn't locate the number in time to have police or private detectives get on the job and find out where I was to meet Palmer or in time to set up recording devices so they could catch him."

"But if you knew that it was Palmer you were going to be meeting…"

"I knew it was Palmer. I also knew he was supposed to have evidence that was going to discredit Fred Hedley."

"And why did you want that evidence?"

"You know why."

"I'm asking you so I can hear it in your words just the way you'll be telling it to a jury."

"I wanted to protect Desere Ellis."

"Why?"

"Because… well, because that was my job under the will."

"Whom were you protecting her from?"

"From herself, largely; and also from a man who was trying to take advantage of her."

Mason regarded his client thoughtfully, abruptly got to his feet. "All right, Dutton, I don't want you to think I'm rehearsing you. I don't want you to rehearse yourself. I don't want you to get on that witness stand and act as if your story had been rehearsed. I want you to tell the truth and it had better look as if you're telling the truth."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Mason," Dutton said.

Mason nodded. "Get some sleep. It's going to be an ordeal, and don't think it won't be."

Chapter Seventeen

When Perry Mason returned to his office, Della Street said, "Paul Drake has a witness, Chief."

"Where is he?"

"They're in Paul's office."

"Who's the witness?"

"A man who lives within about a hundred yards of the fairway at the Barclay Country Club. His house is not too far from the tee-off position on hole number seven.

"He heard a shot on the night of the twenty-first and it was earlier than the time the prosecution thinks the murder was committed."

Perry Mason's face lit up in a smile. "I've been waiting for a break in this case," he said, "and this may be it. Get him in here, Della."

Della manipulated the dial of the phone and a moment later she said, "He's on his way."

"Now then," Mason said, "get me a blank subpoena on behalf of the defense. As soon as I ask this fellow his name, you take it down, slip out to the other office, fill the name in on the subpoena and return it to me.

"No matter what happens we aren't going to let this man leave this office without having a subpoena slapped on him as a defense witness."

Della Street nodded, moved over to the filing case, took out the folder in the case of People of the State of California vs. Kerry Dutton, removed the original subpoena and a copy; then stepped out to the other office to place them out of sight.

"All ready," she said.

Drake's code knock sounded on the exit door.

Mason nodded to Della Street, who opened the door.

Paul Drake ushered in a tall, somewhat loose-jointed man in his middle fifties; a man with keen eyes, bushy eyebrows, prominent ears, a long thin neck.

"This is Mr. Mason," Drake said. "Mason, this is George Holbrook. Mr. Holbrook lives out by the Barclay Country Club."

"George Holbrook, is it?" Mason asked, shaking hands. "Any middle initial, Mr. Holbrook?"

"Sure," Holbrook said, grinning. "A conventional one. George W. Holbrook. The 'W' standing for Washington."

Della Street silently slipped from the room.

"Well, sit down, Mr. Holbrook," Mason said. "I understand you know something about this case?"

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't," Holbrook said, sitting down in the chair and crossing his long legs in front of him, then after a moment clasping bony fingers around his upthrust right knee.

"Trouble is, Mr. Mason, you can't tell these days what you hear. There are so many sounds, so many noises, among them sonic booms, a fellow never knows quite what he doeshear."

"Suppose you tell me about it," Mason said.

"Well, I got to reading about this thing in the paper and all of a sudden it struck me right between the eyes. I said to my wife, 'Hey, wait a minute, wasn't that the night I heard the shot?'"

"You're not certain of the date?" Mason asked, his voice showing his disappointment.

"Now, wait a minute," Holbrook said. "I thinkI can fix the date all right. I was telling you what I'd said to the wife."

"Go ahead," Mason said.

"We'd just got a wire from my wife's sister that she was arriving on the ten-fifty plane and we were sitting there talking it over. Then my wife went out in the kitchen and 1 stepped out on the front porch for a little breath of air-and a puff or two on a cigarette."

Holbrook grinned. "The wife doesn't like smoking in the house. She has a very sensitive nose, and tobacco smell just doesn't agree with her, so I kind of step out when I'm smoking and- Well, she'd like to have me swear off. I guess she thinks I have. So what with one thing and another, I kind of sneak out when I'm smoking."

"Go ahead," Mason said.

"Well, I heard this shot. I'm pretty darn sure it was a shot. I've done hunting in my time and I think I know a shot when I hear one."