There, under crisp, expert questioning by the Man From The Prosecutor’s Office, Blinney’s story and Evangeline Ashley’s story were reduced to sworn signed statements. Scrapings of skin from Miss Ashley were compared to scrapings from beneath the fingernails of Pedro Orgaz by sleepy police technicians, and sampling of Miss Ashley’s lipstick was compared to the smears on the mouth of the dead man. Additional photographs were taken of Miss Ashley’s shoulder and breast wounds by suddenly-wide-awake police technicians. An autopsy was ordered upon the body of the deceased.
At 5:05 A.M. Miss Evangeline Ashley was released upon her own recognizance, on direct instructions from the Prosecutor’s office. She was accompanied home by Mr. Oscar Blinney.
VI
On the morning of the fifth day of March, the last will and testament of Pedro Orgaz, a strange document, was offered and admitted to probate. It was concise and unambiguous. Whatever he owned he devised and bequeathed to his wife, Theresa Columbo Orgaz. He specifically ordered that upon his death there be no services, no funeral, and no attendance, not even by his wife or children.
The preliminary hearing of Evangeline Ashley went smoothly, quickly, politely and co-operatively, without rancor or dispute. Oscar Blinney testified to the screams; and what he saw when he entered Room 203. He testified further that he had called for a doctor and for the police. He was shown the tom clothing and identified them as the clothing Miss Ashley had been wearing when he entered the room.
Lieutenant Andrew Borrelli testified that the police had arrived with a police physician and that there had been no need for the services of a private doctor. He gave his version of the scene in the room and introduced the evidence the bottle-neck and the fragments of the broken bottle. He corroborated Mr. Blinney’s testimony with regard to the tom clothing.
Evangeline Ashley told her story, bearing up superbly, and shedding only a tear or two. The police physician testified to the condition of the deceased and the condition of Miss Ashley with emphasis upon the scratches on her shoulder and bosom. A police photographer authenticated photographs of the wounds upon the body of Miss Ashley. A police technician testified that sampling of Miss Ashley’s lipstick compared exactly with the lipstick-smears on the mouth of the deceased.
Another police technician testified that scrapings of skin from the body of Miss Ashley were identical with the scrapings from beneath the fingernails of the deceased. An expert from the police laboratory gave testimony that autopsy disclosed sufficient alcohol in the stomach and blood of the deceased to substantiate a judgment of thorough intoxication.
And then there was introduced into the record four separate certified copies of convictions in the criminal history of the deceased from the files of the Canadian police.
Complete acquittal of Evangeline Ashley was a foregone conclusion from the first...
And they were inseparable — Evangeline Ashley and Oscar Blinney. He was with her morning, noon, and evening. He was consumed by her, his attentions completely enveloped.
They swam together, walked together, went on trips together, went to restaurants together, went to clubs together, ate together, and drank together. He marveled at her resilience; within a few days she had bounced back; she was gay, smiling, bantering, beautiful. True, she drank a great deal, but after what she had been through, could he blame her? He himself was drinking much more than was his custom.
They were together morning, noon, and evening, and at night he was filled with wild dreams of her. He was certain that she responded to him, physically, although she had made no overt act. He had not kissed her, not once. His innate shyness, the timidity that was so much a part of his nature, smothered and enshackled him. He suffered, and his dreams grew wilder.
On the thirteenth day of March, Evangeline Ashley sold her car. She had inserted an advertisement in a newspaper and a buyer had eventuated. The buyer got a good buy. He paid $3200 for a “used” car which had been purchased four months prior for $5200, the “use” of which had entailed the driving of 2800 miles. The car, in fact, was brand new, but Evangeline Ashley was jubilant. She had asked $3200 and had received $3200.
“Oz,” she said, “tonight we really do the town.”
“Great by me,” said Oscar Blinney.
“On me,” said Evangeline Ashley.
“Pardon?” said Blinney.
“On me,” said Evangeline Ashley. “Oz, you’ve been a brick, just wonderful to me. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone as considerate and kind. And it’s been costing you, pal. Well, tonight, the party’s on me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about two hundred dollars. I’m putting three thousand in my Savings Bank, which shall give me a grand total of eight thousand, but the remaining two hundred bucks — tonight we blow it. The party’s on me, and I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”
“I think that’s silly.”
“That’s the trouble with you. You won’t ever be silly. You’re just too damned serious. Now just listen, and listen carefully. Me? I’m going to the bank, and then I’m going to the beauty parlor, and I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day. Rest, lounge, swim, do as you like. At ten o’clock this evening, you’ll call for me, like a boy-friend, you know?
“You won’t have a long way to go, but, very formal, you’ll call for me. You will have a beautiful orchid for me, and you’ll be wearing dinner clothes. You’re a real handsome guy, but you’re going to look your handsomest. And then we’ll go out and we’ll really turn this town over, but we’ll turn it over, pal. We’ll burn that two hundred bucks, but all of it, and not in one place.”
He called for her at ten o’clock. He was now deeply tanned and the gleaming white dinner jacket provided handsome contrast. The grey eyes seemed greyer. The thick blond crew-cut hair, burnished by sun and freshly brushed, seemed thicker, blonder, and very youthful. He smelled of health and masculine perfume.
She was ravishing in her silver strapless Parisian evening gown (no underwear) and her high-heeled silver pumps (no stockings). In ten days the scars of Pedro Orgaz’s fingernails had disappeared as had the scars (if any) of her affair with Pedro Orgaz. The beauty parlor had added additional tints to the gold-blonde hair and had swung it up into an intricate hair-do that revealed the tiny, close-set, inviting ears. Blue eyes were wide and clear and white teeth flashed in the sensuous sheen of smiling, full-curved, magenta-glistening lips.
It was a night to remember. They drank and drank again in all the clubs, big and little, and ate and drank again, and listened to music and watched entertainment and danced, and she was terribly beautiful, and all the men looked upon her.
And then as they sat at table at the Strain Of Melody and listened to the music and sipped their highballs and looked out through the blue haze upon the dancers, he saw his old friend Ken Burns and he waved and Ken Burns waved in return and Evangeline Ashley waved.
“Do you know Kenny?” said Oscar Blinney.
“Who’s Kenny?”
“The fellow who’s waving.”
“I’m not waving at him. I’m waving at Miss Moore.”
“Who is Miss Moore?”
“The gal who’s dancing with the fellow who’s waving.”
“Oh,” said Blinney and through the churning blur of alcohol it all sounded very reasonable.
Ken Bums worked at the bank with him. Ken Bums had taken his vacation at the same time he had. Ken Bums had gone to visit relatives at Coral Gables. And now Ken Burns was at the Strain Of Melody dancing with a beautiful willowy brunette and Ken was waving and he was waving back and Evangeline was waving at the girl with Ken and it all seemed normal and reasonable. And then Ken and the girl came to them at the table and sat down.