“Your Honor,” he said, “we are ready. Now I am going to state to the Court frankly that the death of Hartwell L. Pitkin is to some extent shrouded in mystery, but at this preliminary hearing it is only necessary for us to show that a crime was committed and to show that there is reasonable cause to believe the defendant committed that crime.
“I am very frank to state to Your Honor that I am hoping the evidence in this case will clear up some elements of the mystery and I will further add that before the case is done, we will quite probably ask for a warrant to be issued for at least one other person.”
And Hamilton Burger turned meaningly toward Perry Mason.
“We’re quite ready to proceed, Your Honor,” Mason said. “All we ask is an opportunity to meet the issues and cross-examine the People’s witnesses.”
“I may say,” Hamilton Burger snapped, “that our investigation in this case has been somewhat handicapped by the fact that counsel for the defendant has apparently been active in this case from its inception, even before the murder of Hartwell Pitkin.”
“Go on with your proof,” Mason said. “Don’t try to prejudice the Court.”
“I’m not trying to prejudice the Court,” Burger snapped, his voice and manner showing the seething anger which raged within him. “I’m merely trying to explain to the Court that we have been handicapped in this case from its inception. Our witnesses have been unable to make proper identifications because of tactics used by counsel for the defense.”
“What tactics?” Mason asked in surprise.
“Refusing to stand up so that a witness could identify you, for one thing,” Burger said, raising his voice so that the volume of sound reverberated through the courtroom. “And following that, Your Honor, counsel permitted himself to be secreted in a packing case so that he could be spirited out of his office building through the freight exit in order to thwart the attempts of...”
“That’s not true,” Mason said cheerfully.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Judge Osborn said. “This is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion. If you have evidence, Mr. District Attorney, put it on.”
“He hasn’t any, and he can’t get any,” Mason said.
“Don’t tell me I haven’t and can’t!” Burger shouted, his face darkening. “I’ll show you whether or not I have any such evidence. You give me half a chance, and I’ll prove that you were spirited out of your office building in a packing case so a witness by the name of Carl Evert Goshen couldn’t identify you; that you then went to the Sleepwell Auto Court with a bodyguard, where you tried to hide until the witness found you and made an absolute identification.”
“Go ahead and prove it,” Mason said.
“And the minute I try to prove that in this case you’ll start objecting that it’s not within the issues,” Burger said contemptuously. “Our hands are tied, and you know it.”
Mason said, “If you have witnesses who can prove any such thing, I won’t make a single objection.”
“Come, come, gentlemen,” Judge Osborn said. “The Court has to be considered in this matter. We have a crowded calendar. This is merely a preliminary examination and...”
“If Your Honor will permit me to take up counsel’s offer,” Hamilton Burger said, “I’ll convince the Court that the time consumed by putting on that evidence is the most important time Your Honor has ever spent on the bench. I’ll blast the subterfuge of this scheming attorney wide open. I’ll show him in his true colors. I’ll...”
Judge Osborn’s gavel banged on the desk. “You’ll refrain from these insulting personalities, Mr. District Attorney.”
“I beg the Court’s pardon,” Burger said, controlling himself with difficulty. “I have been led to lose some measure of my self-control by the tactics I’ve encountered in this case. Counsel has made an offer. He’s made it publicly. I don’t think he dares to stand by that offer, but I would like to...”
“You go ahead and put on your proof,” Judge Osborn said. “The Court will not permit its time to be taken up with extraneous matters, but I think you know this Court well enough to know that any legitimate attempt to get at the truth will be welcome.”
“Very well,” Hamilton Burger sneered. “Counsel has stated he won’t object. I’ll lay the preliminary proof of the corpus delicti by showing that Hartwell L. Pitkin was employed by Stephen Argyle as a chauffeur and butler; that on the fifth of this month he was murdered, having been shot with a Smith and Wesson revolver, Number S65088. I’ll call Lieutenant Tragg as a witness.”
Tragg took the witness stand, testified to his official connection with the police and the fact that he was on the homicide squad; that on the fifth he had been called to a garage in the back of an apartment house at number 19 South Gondola; that there he had found the body of Hartwell L. Pitkin.
Tragg then went on to describe the body, the manner in which it had been found, and what had been done.
“There was a gun lying near the right hand of the body?” Burger asked.
“That’s right,” Tragg said. “It was a .38 caliber Smith and Wesson, number S65088. An attempt had been made to remove all the numbers but one number had been overlooked and was still intact. The cylinder contained five loaded shells and one empty shell.”
“Is this the weapon?” Burger asked, producing the gun.
“It is, yes, sir.”
“I ask that it be marked for identification, Your Honor.”
“Very well. It will be so marked.”
“Now, Lieutenant, you say this gun was found near the body?”
“Yes, sir, but a paraffin test showed the decedent had not fired a gun. Also there had been an extensive hemorrhage from a wound in the head. We found this gun lying on top of the pool of blood. There was no blood on the gun except on the underside. There were blood spatters on the hand of the decedent. There were no spatters on the gun and no fingerprints whatever on the outside of the gun.”
“How about the inside of the gun?” Burger asked.
“On the inside of the gun,” Tragg said, “we found a fingerprint which was subsequently identified as being the print of a man’s right index finger.”
“Whose finger?” Burger asked.
“Perry Mason’s finger,” Tragg said.
“You have those fingerprints here?”
“I have them here.”
“Your Honor,” Burger said apologetically, “this is perhaps the wrong way to introduce this evidence. I should technically have produced a photograph of the fingerprint and then prints of Mr. Mason’s fingers and compared them, but in view of the fact that there can’t be any question about the identification of the print, and in view of...”
“I’m not going to object,” Mason interrupted. “Go right ahead. Handle it any way you want to, Mr. District Attorney.”
“Thank you,” Burger said sarcastically. “Now, Lieutenant Tragg, if you have those fingerprints, we’ll introduce them in evidence. People’s Exhibit A, the fingerprint that was found on the inside of the gun. People’s Exhibit B, a print that was taken from Mr. Mason’s right index finger. Now, will you describe the circumstances under which you took that fingerprint of Mr. Mason’s right index finger?”
Tragg said, “That was on Thursday, the sixth. I went to Mr. Mason’s office with a Mr. Goshen...”
“His full name?”
“Carl Evert Goshen.”
“You had there some conversation with Mr. Mason?”
“Isn’t this entirely outside of the issues, Mr. District Attorney?”
“I think I can connect it up,” Burger said. “Mr. Mason is not objecting.”