“What?”
“Letting that information slip out.”
“No, I... I’m sorry I said it.”
Mason said, “You’re a damn smart little actress. I don’t know what sort of trap you’re setting for me now, but I’m not going to walk into it.”
She said, “They can never prove that gun was in my possession if you keep quiet.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Arthur Colson told me that.”
Mason said angrily, “That dreamy-eyed goof!”
“He’s smart, Mr. Mason. He’s terribly clever.”
“I daresay,” Mason said sarcastically.
“And he says he won’t ever let them trace that gun into my possession.”
Mason said, “You were engaged to Hollister. He planned to leave on a business trip Monday night. You knew that and you spent that evening with Arthur Colson. I don’t like that story, and a jury won’t like it.”
She said, “It’s the truth. Arthur is just like a brother to me.”
“Did Hollister know Arthur Colson?”
“No. They’d never met.”
Mason said, “I don’t like Arthur’s presence in the case.”
“You just wait,” she flared. “He’ll...”
Mason prompted as she paused, “He’ll do what?”
“Nothing.”
Mason studied her for a few seconds, then said, “That gun has my fingerprint on it. You’re going to have to explain that eventually.”
A cunning smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Arthur Colson told me something about that. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it.”
Chapter 27
As court reconvened, Hamilton Burger, still flushed and angry, but having regained some of his composure, said, “Call Willard Barton to the stand.”
Lucille Barton, sitting at Mason’s side, said under her breath in a whisper, “No, no. Don’t let him do that.”
Mason casually swung around in his chair. “Smile,” he said.
There was panic in her eyes, her lips were trembling.
“Smile,” Mason ordered. “They’re looking at you.”
She twisted her lips in a quivering travesty of a smile.
Willard Barton, a well-groomed, chunky man with a profusion of dark, wavy hair which furnished a contrast with steel-gray eyes, settled himself in the witness chair in the manner of a substantial businessman who is more accustomed to giving orders than receiving them, and who is quite accustomed to being the center of attention.
In a firm, incisive tone he stated his name and address, gave his occupation as that of an investor in potential oil-bearing properties, and then flashed Lucille the first quick glance he had given her since he had taken the stand. It was a glance of swift appraisal that held no emotion whatever. Then his eyes turned back to Hamilton Burger as he waited for the next question.
“You have the same name as the defendant in this case?”
“She has my name, yes, sir.”
“You were married to her at one time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And divorced?”
“Yes.”
“When were you divorced?”
“About eighteen months ago.”
“The decree has become final?”
“It has.”
“You are paying her alimony?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you see her on the evening of the fifth of this month?”
“I did, yes, sir.”
“What timer?”
“About half-past six, perhaps a little later.”
“Where?”
“I was at the Broadway Athletic Club. She telephoned me and asked if she could see me. I told her I’d see her for a moment in the lobby, but I warned her that if she tried to make any scene...”
“Objected to,” Mason said. “Not responsive to the question which has already been asked and answered.”
“Very well,” Burger said irritably. “You saw her there in the lobby of the club?”
“I did, yes, sir.”
“Who was present?”
“Just Lucille and I.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me that something terrible had happened. That she was going to have to get out of the country. She wanted to know if I would give her fifteen thousand dollars in cash as a complete settlement if she’d waive any claims to future alimony payments and give me a complete release.”
“You were paying her alimony?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred dollars a week.”
“Did she tell you why she wanted to leave the country?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why?”
“She said a man had been found dead in her garage. She finally admitted to me the body was that of her first husband, and said the exposure of that fact would ruin her.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Well, naturally, I was trying to get out of paying any more than I had to. I told her I couldn’t raise fifteen thousand dollars in cash. I told her I’d have to put her proposition up to my attorneys to see whether or not she could make a valid agreement under the circumstances. I told her I didn’t think too much of the idea, and I thought the amount was too high.”
“And did she accept that answer as final?”
“No, sir. She told me I’d have to do something fast. She said the offer wouldn’t be open later than midnight. She said she would call me at a little before midnight. That she wanted to take a plane that night. Then, finally, she lowered her figure to ten thousand spot cash.”
“Did she call you again?”
“No, sir. I had seen my attorneys and had made arrangements to accept her proposition, and I had the ten thousand dollars in cash, together with a proper release ready for her to sign. She didn’t get in touch with me.”
“And no one was with her when you saw her?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know a woman named Anita Jordon?”
“I have met her.”
“Was she with the defendant when this conversation took place?”
“No, sir. The defendant was alone.”
“Cross-examine,” Burger said, hurling the words at Perry Mason as though they were a challenge.
“You were paying her two hundred dollars a week alimony?” Mason asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you want the Court to believe that you hesitated about the advisability of settling such weekly payments for fifteen thousand dollars?”
“Well, no, sir, I let her think I was hesitating.”
“In other words, you told her you were hesitating, is that it?”
“I wanted to convey that impression, yes.”
“But you actually were eager to make the settlement?”
“Naturally.”
“But as a good business trader you tried to keep her from seeing that was your attitude.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you told her that you didn’t know whether you wanted to do it or not?”
“That’s right.”
“In other words, you lied to her.”
Barton flushed.
Burger, on his feet, said, “Your Honor, I object to that. That’s an insulting statement to the witness.”
“Oh, I’ll put it this way,” Mason said, “if you’d like a softer term for the same thing. In other words, Mr. Barton, you told your wife a falsehood. Is that correct?”
Barton’s eyes glinted angrily.
“Same objection,” Burger said.
“It can be answered yes or no,” Mason said.
Barton glared angrily at him.
“The question,” Mason said, “is whether you told your wife a falsehood. It can be answered yes or no.”
“About what?”
“About your willingness to make a settlement.”
“I don’t think that’s material.”