Mason turned to smile reassuringly at Conway. “I think we’ve got them, Jerry,” he said.
Conway said, “I don’t see how you figure it. I think we’re licked.”
“What do you mean?”
Conway said, “Our only hope was in getting Giff Farrell to show himself in his true light before the jurors. He came off with flying colors.”
Mason grinned. “You mean I didn’t cross-examine him vigorously enough?”
Conway said, “You’re running the show, Mason. But you must be able to see for yourself what has happened. Farrell’ s testimony is now completely established and he hasn’t even been embarrassed. Why didn’t you ask him about his relations with the dead woman, about those photographs?”
“Because,” Mason said, “if we ever get that far, I am going to force the district attorney to put Gifford Farrell on in rebuttal, and by that time I’m going to have him sketched as quite a villain. When I get done with him then, he’s going to be an entirely different individual from the debonair man who occupied the witness stand this afternoon.”
“Well, I hope so,” Conway said. “However, one thing is certain. I’ve completely lost control of Texas Global.”
Mason patted him on the shoulder. “Take it easy, Conway,” he said. “And remember people are watching you in the courtroom. Don’t act discouraged. Act as though you felt certain right would triumph.”
“You can’t smile in a situation like that,” Conway said. “The bottom has dropped out, and—”
“Don’t grin,” Mason said, “simply look less overwhelmed.”
Conway straightened himself, gave Mason a smile.
Mason clapped him on the back, said in a loud voice, “Okay. See you tomorrow. And by tomorrow night you should be out. Sleep tight.”
Mason picked up his brief case and left the courtroom.
Chapter Thirteen
Mason, Paul Drake, and Della Street were gathered in the lawyer’s office.
Mason said, “What’s new with Farrell, Paul?”
“Not a damned thing,” Drake said. “He’s keeping his nose so clean it shines.”
Mason frowned and said, “Now look, Paul, whoever did this job had to have a female accomplice. She was rather young, good-looking, with a sexy figure that she wasn’t averse to showing.
“This woman who left the hotel must have been the woman that Conway saw in Room 729. That’s the woman who held the gun on him, who really holds the key to the whole plot.
“Now, Farrell has put himself entirely in the power of this woman. She must be someone who’s infatuated with him. Farrell wouldn’t dare let her be where she could cool off as far as he’s concerned. He wouldn’t dare let her conscience start bothering her. He must be seeing her.”
“But he isn’t,” Drake said. “Farrell has been 100 per cent circumspect. He has hardly gone out socially since this case came up. Apparently, he was pretty much broken up by the death of Rose Calvert. He must have been pretty much attached to her.”
“Phooey!” Mason said. “He’s seeing this other woman somewhere... It must be one of the girls in his office.”
“We’ve got a line on every girl in his office,” Drake said. “I’ve got a pile of stuff two feet thick, Perry. I can tell you so much about those girls that it would frighten them if they knew we knew it. One of them is married and living with her husband. One of them is engaged. One of them is going steady. The other is a good-looking babe that Farrell has been out with once or twice, but she’s a girl who’s built for speed, narrow hips and a light chassis. There’s another one that Farrell probably had an affair with at one time, but she’s a tall babe, one of these long, willowy gals.
“Conway says this woman who emerged from the bedroom and then held the gun on him had a figure and was of average height... Don’t worry, if Farrell starts trying to keep any female accomplice in line, we’ll spot her.”
“He’ll have to do it when the case gets a little hotter,” Mason said.
“How’s it going, Perry?”
Mason said, “Well, I’m getting my theory worked into the case so unobtrusively that the prosecution doesn’t even know it’s there. Tomorrow I’ll spring it.”
“Your theory that the body was moved?”
“That’s right,” Mason said. “The body had lain on its left side. There had been just the start of that peculiar discoloration which is known as post-mortem lividity. Rigor mortis had probably set in rather soon. The right hand and right arm were doubled up and probably the left arm was sticking straight out. When the body was moved and placed on that bed, it was necessary for whoever did it to break the rigor mortis in the left shoulder so the arm would hang down somewhat naturally. If that left arm had been sticking out straight as a poker, it would have been a dead giveaway and anyone would have known that the body had been moved. With the body lying on the bed, it became necessary for that left arm to be hanging down. So rigor was broken at the shoulder.
“That Bob King is a miserable liar. He’s trying to bolster up the prosecution’s case, but he’s not doing a good, job of it.
“How are you coming along with your elevator girl, Paul?”
“Swell!” Drake said grinning. “That’s one of the best assignments I ever had. She’s a darned good scout, Perry, and is fun to be with, although at times I do wish she’d quit that everlasting gum chewing.”
“What have you found out from her?”
“I’ve found out all she knows. I can tell you enough stuff about the operation of the Redfern Hotel to make your hair curl. I can tell you things about the bell captains, about the clerks — and I can tell you this: The woman who went up to Room 729 definitely didn’t have any baggage, and that’s the reason she paid in advance.
“My elevator girl says that the bell captain was grumbling. He thought that the girl intended to muscle in on his racket, and he was determined that, if she started entertaining men in the room, he’d have her thrown out unless she decorated the mahogany with a cut.”
Mason paced the floor. “There’s something funny there, Paul. The position of the body on the bed was changed. Now, why would it be changed? Why did someone discharge a gun into the mattress in Room 728? The gun was pushed up against the mattress so it wouldn’t make any loud noise.
“The noise made by a contact wound when a gun is held up against a body or when the gun is pushed up against a mattress of that sort isn’t loud enough to attract attention. It’s not much louder than exploding a paper bag.”
“But why change the position of the body?” Drake asked. “Why juggle guns?”
“That,” Mason said, “is something we’re going to have to find out. Beginning tomorrow, I’m going to start getting some of this stuff in front of the jury, and then I’m going to needle the prosecution by asking it these questions. I’m going to start punching holes in the prosecution’s theory of the case.”
“Enough to get an acquittal for Conway?”
“I think so,” Mason said. “I’m not worried so much about that as I am that the public may take it as a Scotch verdict: guilty but not proven, and Conway will never be able to live it down.”
“He’s not the kind who would try very hard,” Drake said.
“In some ways he’s not a fighter,” Mason admitted. “He gets discouraged and throws in the sponge. He’ll fight like the devil on a business deal, but in a matter of this sort which affects his personal integrity, he feels completely crushed.
“You keep in touch with your elevator operator — what the devil’s her name?”
“Myrtle Lamar,” Drake said.
“She isn’t taking you seriously, is she?” Della Street asked. “You aren’t going to wind up breaking her heart, are you, Paul?”