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Judge Lawton leaned forward on the bench, weighed his words carefully. “The motion to strike the testimony of Helen Manning will be granted. The jury is instructed to pay no attention whatever to the testimony of this witness. The effect will be as though this witness had never been called to the stand.

“The Court recognizes the assignment of misconduct on the part of the district attorney to this extent. The jurors are instructed to pay no attention to any remarks made by the district attorney or to any statements made by counsel on either side except insofar as those statements are substantiated by evidence that is permitted to go before the jury. The Court instructs the jurors to completely disregard all statements made by the district attorney in connection with the testimony of the witness Manning to the effect that he would connect up the testimony.

“Now then, Mr. Prosecutor, proceed with your next witness.”

“My next witness, if the Court please,” Irvine said, “is one who will still further connect up the testimony that—”

“That testimony has been stricken,” Judge Lawton rebuked. “You may move to have it reinstated if at any time you can connect it up. The Court feels that the proof was put on out of order. The Court feels that the prosecutor should have put on any evidence he might have had seeking to connect up the testimony of the witness Manning before putting the witness Manning on the stand.

“The Court feels that any further reference on the part of the prosecution to testimony which has been stricken from the record may well constitute prejudicial misconduct. Now, proceed.”

“Very well,” Irvine said, with poor grace, “call Steven Beardsley.”

Beardsley, a tall, gangling individual, came to the stand and was sworn.

“What’s your occupation, Mr. Beardsley?”

“I’m deputy sheriff in this county.”

“Is there any particular field in which you have specialized, any field in the nature of law enforcement?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is that field?”

“Ballistics. Firearms identification.”

“Will you tell us what training you have had along those lines?”

“I have studied under several of the leading men in the country. I have been making a practice of firearms identification for more than ten years.”

“Are you familiar with the town of Citrus Grove in this county?”

“I am, yes, sir.”

“Are you familiar with the premises known as the Whippoorwill, the estate of Karl Carver Endicott?”

“I am, yes, sir.”

“Do you recognize the premises shown on this map, People’s Exhibit Number One?”

“I do, yes, sir.”

“I will ask you if you have at any time searched the hedge shown on People’s Exhibit Number One?”

“I have, yes, sir.”

“I will ask you if at any time within the past week you found a weapon in that hedge?”

“I did, yes, sir.”

“Do you have that weapon with you?”

“I do.”

“Produce it please.”

The witness produced a rust-encrusted, blued-steel revolver.

“What is that?”

“That is a Colt .38 caliber revolver.”

“How many shells are in that revolver?”

“Five shells with bullets in them and one empty chamber in the cylinder.”

“Have you been able to fire test bullets through that gun?”

“I have had considerable difficulty restoring it to a condition where it is safe to fire it, but I have removed enough of the rust to enable the mechanism to function. I have purposely refrained from removing any of the rust which was not essential for this purpose in order to show the condition of the weapon when it was found.”

“From your test have you been able to determine whether that was the weapon from which the bullet was fired which killed Karl Carver Endicott?”

“Well, I’ll put it this way. The barrel has been badly rusted. The individual markings from that barrel are such that it is impossible to make an identification. All I can state is that this revolver is a .38 Colt revolver firing bullets of a certain type and the bullet which was taken from the head of Mr. Endicott is the same caliber as the bullet which was taken from this revolver, has the same characteristics, and both bullets were fired from a .38 caliber Colt revolver.”

“In other words, there is no reason from the standpoint of ballistic science why the bullet which was taken from the head of Karl Carver Endicott could not have been fired from this revolver?”

“That is right. This revolver could have fired the fatal bullet.”

“Have you traced the ownership of that revolver so that you know whose revolver it is?”

“I have, yes, sir.”

“Whose is it?”

“Objected to as not the best evidence, as calling for hearsay evidence, as calling for a conclusion of the witness and invading the province of the jury,” Barney Quinn said.

Irvine seemed annoyed. “If the Court please, we can get at this another way, but it is going to be a costly procedure and will necessitate the calling of a witness who will have to take a plane to be here.”

“Nevertheless,” Judge Lawton ruled, “that is one of the constitutional guarantees of a man charged with crime. He has the right to be faced with the witnesses against him and to have the privilege of cross-examining them. I take it this witness now on the stand doesn’t know of his own knowledge to whom the weapon belongs, only that he has conducted investigations as an officer which have convinced him that the weapon is the property of a certain person.”

“That is right, Your Honor.”

“The objection is sustained,” Judge Lawton said. “It now appears that we have reached the hour of the afternoon adjournment. Court will take a recess until tomorrow morning. In the meantime, the defendant is remanded to the custody of the sheriff and the jurors are admonished not to discuss the case among yourselves nor to permit anyone to discuss it in your presence. You are not to form or express any opinion until the case is finally submitted to you for a decision.

“Court will recess until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

Quinn walked past me on his way out of the courtroom. “Meet me in my office,” he said in an undertone.

I fell into step beside him. “What do you want?”

“To discuss the evidence.”

“To hell with it!” I told him. “I’ve got something else to do. Keep on the end of your telephone so I can reach you at any hour of the night. Get what sleep you can. This is going to be one hell of a night!”

I beckoned to Bertha, and we pushed our way through the crowd.

“Now what?” Bertha asked.

“Now,” I said, “we go to our own ballistics expert in Pasadena and find out what the hell we dug up in the garden.”

“It’s a .38 caliber Colt revolver,” Bertha said.

“Probably the murder weapon. That means one of us has got to be called as a witness.”

“Oh, my God!” Bertha said.

We drove to Pasadena where one of the best legal physicists in the country has his office. We started him working on the gun. Within half an hour he had the number of the gun, and within another hour we had the answer.

The gun had been purchased by Helen Manning six years ago.

I hung up the phone and turned to Bertha. “This,” I said, “is going to be in your province, Bertha. You’re going to have to take a babe apart.”

“Who?”

“Helen Manning.”

“That bitch!” Bertha said.