The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom
- Автор: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
- Серия: Perry Mason #35
- Год: 1949
- Язык: английский
- Год: William Morrow
- Жанр: Классические детективы
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“Now, when you saw this man whom you observed in Tijuana that night,” Mason said, “you saw him after he had left the telephone booth and while he was walking across the lobby?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How fast was he walking? Was he moving rather rapidly?”
“Well, he was walking right along.”
“And you didn’t see him until after he had passed a few feet from the telephone booth?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“Ten feet?” Mason asked.
“Perhaps.”
“And you couldn’t see him after he had passed through the outer door and gone out into the yard where the cars were parked?”
“No, sir.”
“Now, how many feet is it across that lobby?”
“Oh, I’d say it was perhaps twenty-five feet.”
“So you only saw this man while he was walking rather rapidly for a distance of fifteen feet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you observed him with one eye?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In semi-darkness.”
“Yes, sir.”
“With his back turned toward you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that’s why it was so difficult for you to be absolutely certain when you made your subsequent identification, wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
Mason said, “That’s why you studied the matter for some three minutes before you were able subsequently to identify this man and say to the officers, ‘Yes, that’s the man.’ ”
“Yes, sir, that’s right.”
“Now, how long do you suppose it took that man to walk the fifteen feet?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t figured it. A little while.”
“Do you know how many miles an hour a man covers at an ordinary walk?”
“Well, if you want to put it in miles an hour,” Scanlon said, “while he was going that fifteen feet I’d say he was walking — oh probably three miles an hour.”
“All right,” Mason said, “let’s do a little mathematical computation.”
He whipped a small slide rule from his pocket, manipulated it quickly, said, “For your information, Mr. Scanlon, a person walking one mile an hour covers about .46 feet per second, so at the rate of three miles an hour that man would cover approximately 4.4 feet per second.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Scanlon said, smiling.
Mason said, “So in walking fifteen feet at the rate of speed you mention, the man would have covered the distance in something less than three and one-half seconds. Therefore, unless you are mistaken, you saw this individual for approximately three and one-half seconds with one eye under conditions of dim light.”
“Well, I guess that’s right if you say so.”
“I’m simply making the necessary mathematical computations from what you yourself have told me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you now think that’s right, do you, Mr. Scanlon, that you saw this man for about three and a half seconds?”
“Well, I thought it was longer than that but if that’s the way it figures out why I guess that’s right.”
“Saw him three and a half seconds under conditions of very poor visibility with one eye, looking at his back,” Mason said, “but when you wanted to identify him for the police, when you wanted to be sure, it took you three minutes under conditions of broad daylight looking at him where you could see his face, his figure and everything about him?”
“Well, I wanted to be sure.”
“So in order to be sure of the man’s identity you had to look at him for three minutes with both eyes and in full daylight?”
“Well, to be absolutely certain.”
“Then,” Mason said, with a friendly, disarming smile, “when you saw him under conditions of poor visibility for only three and a half seconds looking at him with only one eye, you naturally weren’t absolutely certain of his identity, were you? Not at that time, at the end of the three-and-a-half-second interval?”
“No, I wasn’t certain of it then,” Scanlon conceded, “not absolutely. But I was after I saw him there in the jail.”
“I thought so,” Mason said, with a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Scanlon, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” Covington snapped angrily.
Judge Minden looked at the clock. I’ve said, “It appears to be approximately the hour for the noon adjournment. We’ll take our usual adjournment until two o’clock this afternoon. The jury will remember the admonition of the Court and refrain from discussing the case or permitting it to be discussed in their presence, nor will they form or express any opinion concerning the guilt or innocence of the defendant until the case is finally submitted.
“Court will take a recess until two o’clock.”
Edward Garvin reached out and caught Mason’s arm. His fingers pressed into the flesh of the lawyer’s arm. “Mason,” he said, “for God’s sake I...”
Mason turned to smile reassuringly at his client, but the smile was only on the lawyer’s lips. His eyes were cold and hard.
“Smile,” Mason said.
“I...”
“Smile, damn it,” Mason said in a low half-whisper, “smile.”
A travesty of a grin twisted Garvin’s features.
“Do better than that,” Mason said, “smile and keep that smile on your face until the jury have filed out.”
Mason watched expression struggling on Garvin’s face, laughed good-naturedly, patted Garvin on the shoulder, said, “Well, let’s get some eats,” and turned casually away.
“Mason, I’ve got to see you,” Garvin whispered.
Mason said over his shoulder in a low voice, “Try to see me now and with the jury looking at you, and with that expression on your face, and you’ll be buying a one-way ticket to the death cell in San Quentin.”
And with that the lawyer walked casually out of the courtroom, his brief case tucked under his arm, an expression of smiling unconcern on his countenance.
Della Street joined Perry Mason in the corridor. “Good lord, chief,” she said in a whisper, “could he be telling the truth?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’m going to find out later, but I don’t dare to let the spectators or the jurors see me holding any hurried conference with my client at this moment.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“Get Paul Drake and eat,” Mason said. “It’s all we can do.”
Drake came pushing his way out of the crowd milling around the door of the courtroom, a crowd that looked curiously at Mason.
Drake grabbed Mason’s arm and squeezed it. “Boy,” he said, “you did a great job of cross-examination there, Perry. You made the guy admit that it took him three minutes to identify a man under good light and yet he only saw him three seconds when he was looking at his back in the dark.”
“Just the same,” Mason said, “there’s something about that witness that bothers me. He’s prejudiced, he’s testifying to a composite of what he thinks he saw, what he thinks he remembered, and what he thinks must have happened, and he’s now testifying positively; but somehow there’s a certain underlying sincerity, a rugged sense of fairness the guy has that bothers me.”
“You don’t suppose your client did go out and do any nocturnal wandering around, do you?”
“How the devil would I know?” Mason said. “Every so often a client lies to you. But in this case we have an ace up our sleeve.”
“You mean his wife’s testimony?”
“That’s right. Of course the jury will probably figure she’d back her husband regardless, but they’re not going to send a newlywed to San Quentin and leave a beautiful bride languishing for her lover if they can avoid it. I’m hoping that Mrs. Garvin’s alibi will overcome Scanlon’s testimony.”