The second witness was Detective Fleming, who merely corroborated Lieutenant Hart’s testimony of the arrest and subsequent escape of the defendant.
The next witness was the taxi driver who had driven Dan Fancy to the home of the deceased. He was a lean, shifty-eyed man who licked his lips frequently during the testimony. He stated that he had picked up the defendant in front of the Lakeview Hotel about eight P.M. on the fourteenth and had driven him to 1711 Fairview Avenue. He said the defendant was inside only a few minutes, at the end of which time he heard a sound like a shot. Immediately afterward the defendant rushed out of the house, jumped into the cab and ordered him to speed off. The driver said he took the defendant back to the Lakeview Hotel and did not see him again until he was asked to pick him out of a police lineup.
When Ed Ossening said, “Your witness,” Judge Anderson frowned at John Farraday, obviously expecting him to ask why the driver had failed to report to the police the peculiar actions of his customer, and had waited for the police to come to him before he told his story. But when Farraday only gave his head a mild shake, the judge’s lips drew into a thin line and he said to the witness, “That’s all. You may step down.”
The prosecution’s key witness was Ella Spodiak, who described herself as the fiancée of the deceased. She turned out to be the well-built but stupid-looking blonde who had admitted Dan to Larry Bull’s house. For her courtroom appearance she had discarded her red, tight-fitting dress in favor of a sedate black suit and a hat with a black veil. The effect of mourning was somewhat spoiled, however, by open-toed pumps which exposed toenails of flaming crimson.
She gave her testimony in a sullen singsong, her eyes carefully averted from the grinning Dan Fancy. She told how she had been visiting Sergeant Bull on the evening of the murder, and had gone to open the door when the defendant rang the bell.
“He pushed right inside,” she recited mechanically, wrinkling her brow in what might have been a continued effort to remember her lines. “He drew a gun and twisted my arm up behind my back and told me if I said a word, he’d shoot me. So I didn’t say nothing — I mean anything. Then he asked if Larry was in the living room, and when I said yes, he pushed me ahead of him and made me open the door. Larry was watching television, and he jumped up when he saw Dan Fancy. ‘Turn around’, Fancy ordered him, ‘and put up your hands.’ And when Larry did, he shot him right in the back. Then he ran out of the house.”
This time John Farraday’s expression was pained when he shook his head.
The rest of the prosecution’s witnesses were more or less routine. A medical examiner testified to the time of death, fixing it at approximately eight P.M. on the day of the fourteenth, and in medical terms declared that death had been caused by a bullet in the back. A ballistic expert said that the bullet removed from the body of Larry Bull matched a similar bullet fired from the gun taken from Dan Fancy. To clinch the matter the prosecution entered in evidence a pistol permit showing the gun belonged to Dan Fancy.
As the last witness stepped down, Ed Ossening discovered that due to lack of interference by the defense, the case he had planned to spend at least a week presenting had somehow gotten itself presented in four hours. But for some reason he was more frightened than reassured by the smoothness with which the trial had so far run.
He glanced uncertainly around, as though hoping to spy some witness he had inadvertently overlooked, then said in a voice higher than necessary, “The prosecution rests.”
The judge glanced at his watch. “It is two P.M.,” he announced. “If the defense has no objection, we will recess until ten A.M. tomorrow.”
For the first time since the trial had started, John Farraday fully opened his eyes. “No objection, Your Honor,” he said in a caressing voice which carried to every corner of the courtroom, though he spoke in a conversational tone.
At ten the next morning, after Judge Anderson had brought the court to order and inquired if the defense were ready, John Farraday rose slowly to his feet. He was a tall man, as thin and bony as Abraham Lincoln, but with a grace of body movement Lincoln lacked. He paused theatrically to sweep brilliant blue eyes over the packed courtroom, then said in his caressing voice, “The defense has but one witness, Your Honor. Will Adrian Fact please take the stand?”
From the back row rose a little insignificant-looking man in a worn seersucker suit. He advanced diffidently, raised his hand to be sworn, and kept his eyes lowered to his lap after he had taken the witness chair.
“Your name is Adrian Fact?” Farraday inquired.
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you please look at the defendant and tell the court if you know him?”
Judge Anderson cleared his throat. “Your witness should be instructed to address his remarks to the jury rather than to the court, counsellor.”
Gracefully John Farraday turned to face the judge. “Your Honor, the defense has nothing to say to this jury, for there is little likelihood it will be asked to render a verdict. I asked the witness to address the court because I am sure after Your Honor has heard his testimony, you will kick this case out of court so fast it will make the head of my esteemed colleague, the district attorney of this county, spin like a top.”
Leaping to his feet, Ed Ossening squeaked, “I object!”
“To what?” asked the judge curiously.
“To... to the insulting tone of counsel for defense. And to—” The prosecuting attorney hesitated, suddenly brightened and said in a stronger tone, “If the defense has evidence which the court might consider sufficient to dismiss this trial, it should have been introduced before the prosecution even presented its case. Before the jury was seated, for that matter. If there is such evidence, and I personally doubt it very much, the defense is criminally negligent in good citizenship, if nothing else, to allow the trial to proceed to this point before bringing it out.”
Judge Anderson nodded. “A good point, counsellor.” He turned to John Farraday. “You have anything to say to that?”
“If the court will be indulgent for a very few minutes,” John Farraday said, “Mr. Fact’s testimony will bring out why it was necessary for the defense to allow the prosecution to present its full case, even though a motion to dismiss based on the same testimony you are about to hear would undoubtedly have been granted before the trial started.”
The judge frowned at the silver-haired lawyer. “I don’t understand that statement, counsellor. And if this testimony you speak of is directed solely at the court, suppose I declare a recess and take it informally in my chamber?”
“That would be more proper procedure,” Farraday admitted. “However, the defense has a particular reason for handling the matter in this way, and I beg the court’s indulgence.”
“Go ahead, then,” the judge decided. “But I warn you, if it develops you have deliberately allowed this court to waste its time, not to mention the time of the jurors and the witnesses involved, I will take a serious view of the matter.”
Farraday nodded agreeably. “Now, Mr. Fact,” he said, returning to the witness, “please look at the defendant and tell the court if you know him.”
The little man glanced at Dan Fancy. “Yes, sir. I know him well.”
“What is your relationship with the defendant?” the lawyer pursued.
“We’re partners in the firm of Fact and Fancy, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It’s a private detective agency.”
The silver-haired lawyer smiled at the prosecuting attorney. “Now, Mr. Fact, in your own words will you explain why you and the defendant are in Lake City?”
Ed Ossening was again on his feet. “I object, Your Honor. It is immaterial to this case why either the defendant or the witness are in Lake City.”