The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

“Then the woman wasn’t killed while she was driving the car.”

“No, sir, she wasn’t. You can tell from the blood spatters and the position of the clotted blood that she had been over on the right-hand side when she was shot. The man who was driving the car had pulled the trigger on the gun and then he’d driven the car with the body in it right up to this point where he’d left the other car. He only had to step across from one car to the other. Then he dragged the body across behind the steering wheel and drove away.”

“I see,” Mason said. “Now you say the tracks showed where this other car had been left there, waiting?”

“That’s right. Yes.”

Mason didn’t change the tone of his voice in the least, but as though passionately interested in the answer, said, “Just what was there about the tracks, Chief, that showed the car had been waiting?”

“Well, you could see the tracks where the car had stood there and then driven away.”

“How did that show the other car had been waiting?”

“Well, it went in straight, and then — well, when it went out it curved back to the highway. The tracks showed that.”

“I see,” Mason said, “and if the tracks hadn’t curved, Chief, where would the car have gone?”

“Well, it would have gone straight ahead.”

“And what was straight ahead?”

“Well, it couldn’t have gone straight ahead.”

“Why not? What was straight ahead?”

“The Pacific Ocean.”

“Oh, I see. Then the car had to turn.”

“Of course it had to turn.”

“Yet you say the only way that you knew the car was left waiting there was because the tracks curved?”

“Well, the car was waiting there. You could tell by the way the tracks were of the car where the murdered woman was found.”

“That’s it,” Mason agreed enthusiastically. “Now you’re getting the point I want. Just what was there in the tracks of this car to show you that it had been left waiting?”

“Well, you could see where the tracks of Ethel Garvin’s car had been manipulated around to get in just the right position.”

“Then it wasn’t anything in the tracks of the car that had been left waiting that showed you what had happened, but something you’d deduced from the tracks of an entirely different automobile.”

“Well, if you want to put it that way, yes.”

“My dear man,” Mason said, “it’s not the way I want to put it. You’re doing the putting. Just put it your own way, but kindly try and put it right.”

“Well, that’s the way it was.”

“Then you were mistaken when you said you could tell from the tracks of the getaway car that it had been left waiting there?”

“No, you could tell it from the tracks like I explained to you.”

“But what was there about the tracks of the car that had been left waiting that showed it had stood there?”

“Well, it... well, you could see from the way the other car had been sidled up to it.”

“You mean the car containing the body of the murdered woman?”

“Yes.”

“Try and understand the question,” Mason said. “Was there anything in the tracks of the car that you say had been left waiting there that showed it had been left waiting — in the tracks of that one particular car?”

“Well, no,” the chief said, and then added, by way of explanation, “Naturally there couldn’t be. You can’t tell from car tracks whether a car just drove in and then went right out, or whether it stopped for an hour, or two hours, or four hours, unless you had some change in condition, such as a rainstorm while the car was parked there or something.”

“Oh,” Mason said with a disarming smile, “then you were mistaken in stating to the jury when you gave your testimony on direct examination that the tracks of the parked car showed it had been left there for a while?”

“Sure. There was nothing in those tracks,” the man said. “It’s the way you have to reconstruct the whole picture from the tracks of that other car.”

“So you were mistaken?” Mason said.

“Well... I... I guess so.”

“I knew you were,” Perry Mason said, smiling disarmingly, “I just wanted to see how difficult it would be to make you admit it. That’s all, Chief. Thank you.”

“Just a minute,” Covington shouted, getting to his feet. “You weren’t mistaken in stating that the murderer left his car there while he went out and committed the crime and then drove the other car up to the position immediately parallel to his parked car, were you, Chief?”

“Come, come,” Mason said, smilingly. “I’ll have to object to counsel leading his own witness. I can ask leading questions on cross-examination but counsel can’t ask them on direct or redirect.”

“The question is leading,” Judge Minden said. “The objection is sustained.”

“Well, what did happen?” Covington asked.

“While the witness was present, of course,” Mason amended.

“Well, he can tell what happened from an examination of the tracks.”

“He tried to tell,” Mason said. “He’s given some conclusions from two sets of tracks. I take it no photographs were made of those tracks?”

“They were all tramped out before our photographer got there,” Covington said.

“Well, of course, the defendant isn’t responsible for that,” Mason reminded him.

“Well, tell us about those tracks. What do they show?”

“Objected to as calling for a conclusion of the witness,” Mason said. “No proper foundation has been laid.”

“Sustained,” Judge Minden snapped, but then he added somewhat acidly, “the witness has certainly given his conclusions previously as to some phases of these tracks, and without objection.”

“Quite right, Your Honor,” Mason said, smilingly. “And then admitted he was mistaken.”

“Well, he wasn’t mistaken about what happened,” Covington snapped.

“The witness admitted he was mistaken,” Mason said.

“Very well,” Covington said sneeringly. “You may have your technicality, but I think the jury understands.”

“I’m quite certain they do,” Mason said.

“Your next witness,” Judge Minden said to Covington.

A bailiff entered, walked over to Perry Mason, handed him a folded paper.

The lawyer unfolded it, read it.

It was a citation asking him to meet with the grievance committee of the Bar Association at eight o’clock the following evening for a discussion of charges that he had tampered with a witness in a manner that resulted in changing the testimony of the witness.

Mason refolded the paper, slipped it into his pocket.

Covington watching Mason’s expressionless face said to Jarvis, “Damn him, that will fix him. He’s trying to pretend he doesn’t give a hoot, but he’s now in a hell of a spot.

“If he tries to break Irving down on cross-examination tomorrow, he’ll be cutting his own throat. If he lets his testimony stand without trying to impeach the witness, he’ll be cutting his client’s throat.

“We’ll teach that fellow he can’t pull his fast ones when he’s dealing with us.”

“Come, come, gentlemen,” Judge Minden said irritably, “let’s get on with the case.”

Samuel Jarvis called a surveyor, introduced maps and diagrams. He called the autopsy surgeon. Pie called a friend who identified the body, then said, “If the Court please, it’s approaching the hour of adjournment.”

Judge Minden nodded. “I think we’ve made very good progress today,” he said. “I’m not going to have the jury confined, but the jurors are admonished not to discuss the case among themselves or with anyone else, and I’m going to ask the jurors not to read the newspapers, to carefully avoid reading anything concerning this case. You will not discuss the case with anyone nor permit it to be discussed in your presence. You won’t form or express any opinion until the case is finally submitted to you. Court’s adjourned until ten o’clock tomorrow morning!”