Ralph Nesbitt, after answering the usual preliminary questions, sat down in the witness chair.
“Were you present at a conversation which took place between the defendant, Harvey L. Corbin, and Frank Bernal on the fourteenth of this month?” the district attorney asked.
“I was. Yes, sir.”
“What time did that conversation take place?”
“About 8 o’clock in the evening.”
“And, without going into the details of that conversation, I will ask you if the general effect of it was that the defendant was discharged and ordered to leave the company’s property?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he was paid the money that was due him?”
“In cash. Yes, sir. I took the cash from the safe myself.”
“Where was the payroll then?”
“In the sealed package in a compartment in the safe. As cashier, I had the only key to that compartment. Earlier in the afternoon I had gone to Ivanhoe City and received the sealed package of money and the envelope containing the list of numbers. I personally locked the package of money in the vault.”
“And the list of numbers.”
“Mr. Bernal locked that in his desk.”
“Cross-examine,” Flasher said.
“No questions,” Mason said.
“That’s our case, Your Honor,” Flasher observed.
“May we have a few minutes indulgence?” Mason asked Judge Haswell.
“Very well. Make it brief,” the judge agreed.
Mason turned to Paul Drake and Della Street. “Well, there you are,” Drake said. “You’re confronted with the proof, Perry.”
“Are you going to put the defendant on the stand?” Della Street asked.
Mason shook his head. “It would be suicidal. He has a record of a prior criminal conviction. Also, it’s a rule of law that if one asks about any part of a conversation on direct examination, the other side can bring out all the conversation. That conversation, when Corbin was discharged, was to the effect that he had lied about his past record. And I guess there’s no question that he did.”
“And he’s lying now,” Drake said. “This is one case where you’re licked. I think you’d better cop a plea, and see what kind of a deal you can make with Flasher.”
“Probably not any,” Mason said. “Flasher wants to have the reputation of having given me a licking — wait a minute, Paul. I have an idea.”
Mason turned abruptly, walked away to where he could stand by himself, his back to the crowded courtroom.
“Are you ready?” the judge asked.
Mason turned. “I am quite ready, Your Honor. I have one witness whom I wish to put on the stand. I wish a subpoena duces tecum issued for that witness. I want him to bring certain documents which are in his possession.”
“Who is the witness, and what are the documents?” the judge asked.
Mason walked quickly over to Paul Drake. “What’s the name of that character who has the garbage-collecting business,” he said softly, “the one who has the first nickel he’d ever made?”
“George Addey.”
The lawyer turned to the judge.
“The witness that I want is George Addey, and the documents that I want him to bring to court with him are all the twenty-dollar bills that he has received during the past sixty days.”
“Your Honor,” Flasher protested, “this is an outrage. This is making a travesty out of justice. It is exposing the court to ridicule.”
Mason said, “I give Your Honor my assurance that I think this witness is material, and that the documents are material. I will make an affidavit to that effect if necessary. As attorney for the defendant, may I point out that if the court refuses to grant this subpoena, it will be denying the defendant due process of law.”
“I’m going to issue the subpoena,” Judge Haswell said, testily, “and for your own good, Mr. Mason, the testimony had better be relevant.”
George Addey, unshaven and bristling with indignation, held up his right hand to be sworn. He glared at Perry Mason.
“Mr. Addey,” Mason said, “you have the contract to collect garbage from Jebson City?”
“I do.”
“How long have you been collecting garbage there?”
“For over five years, and I want to tell you—”
Judge Haswell banged his gavel. “The witness will answer questions and not interpolate any comments.”
“I’ll interpolate anything I dang please,” Addey said.
“That’ll do,” the judge said. “Do you wish to be jailed for contempt of court, Mr. Addey?”
“I don’t want to go to jail, but I—”
“Then you’ll remember the respect that is due the court,” the judge said. “Now you sit there and answer questions. This is a court of law. You’re in this court as a citizen, and I’m here as a judge, and I propose to see that the respect due to the court is enforced.” There was a moment’s silence while the judge glared angrily at the witness. “All right, go ahead, Mr. Mason,” Judge Haswell said.
Mason said, “During the thirty days prior to the fifteenth of this month, did you deposit any money in any banking institution?”
“I did not.”
“Do you have with you all the twenty-dollar bills that you received during the last sixty days?”
“I have, and I think making me bring them here is just like inviting some crook to come and rob me and—”
Judge Haswell banged with his gavel. “Any more comments of that sort from the witness and there will be a sentence imposed for contempt of court. Now you get out those twenty-dollar bills, Mr. Addey, and put them right up here on the clerk’s desk.”
Addey, mumbling under his breath, slammed a roll of twenty-dollar bills down on the desk in front of the clerk.
“Now,” Mason said, “I’m going to need a little clerical assistance. I would like to have my secretary, Miss Street, and the clerk help me check through the numbers on these bills. I will select a few at random.”
Mason picked up three of the twenty-dollar bills and said, “I am going to ask my assistants to check the list of numbers introduced in evidence. In my hand is a twenty-dollar bill that has the number L 07083274 A. Is that bill on the list? The next bill that I pick up is number L 07579190 A. Are any of those bills on the list?”
The courtroom was silent. Suddenly, Della Street said, “Yes, here’s one that’s on the list — bill number L 07579190 A. It’s on the list, on page eight.”
“What?” the prosecutor shouted.
“Exactly,” Mason said, smiling. “So, if a case is to be made against a person merely because he has possession of the money that was stolen on the fifteenth of this month, then your office should prefer charges against this witness, George Addey, Mr. District Attorney.”
Addey jumped from the witness stand and shook his fist in Mason’s face. “You’re a cockeyed liar!” he screamed. “There ain’t a one of those bills but what I didn’t have it before the fifteenth. The company cashier changes my money into twenties, because I like big bills. I bury ’em in cans, and I put the date on the side of the can.”
“Here’s the list,” Mason said. “Check it for yourself.”
A tense silence gripped the courtroom as the judge and the spectators waited.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand this, Mr. Mason,” Judge Haswell said, after a moment.
“I think it’s quite simple,” Mason said. “And I now suggest the court take a recess for an hour and check these other bills against this list. I think the district attorney may be surprised.”
And Mason sat down and proceeded to put papers in his brief case.
Della Street, Paul Drake, and Perry Mason were sitting in the lobby of the Ivanhoe Hotel.
“When are you going to tell us?” Della Street asked fiercely. “Or do we tear you limb from limb? How could the garbage man have?—”