“What else do you want, Perry,” the detective asked, holding the phone, “anything?”
Mason, who had resumed pacing the floor, said, “What’s the name of Harley Drexel’s daughter?”
Drake looked at his notebook. “Helen.”
“She goes to college in the east?”
“Yes.”
“And is home for the summers.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s the date Minerva filed her action for divorce?” Mason asked.
“September fifteenth,” Drake said promptly.
“All right,” Mason said, “it takes six weeks to establish a residence in Nevada, so that means Minerva was in the Drexel house during the summer months. If Helen was home for her vacation there’s a darn good chance the two women got to know each other. The Drexel car was in the parking lot all Monday afternoon. Find out where Helen is now.”
Again Drake passed instructions over the wire.
“Anything else, Perry?”
“Not at the moment,” Mason said.
Drake said into the phone, “Get busy on those angles right away and report as soon as you’ve found out anything.”
The detective hung up the phone.
Mason, pacing the floor, said, “Damn it, Paul, there are a lot of angles to this case. If a lawyer is really going to represent a client he has to do a terrific amount of investigative work, and the more he does the more he has to do.”
“I’ll say,” Drake agreed. “How are your chances on this case, Perry?”
“Right at the present time,” Mason said, “we don’t stand a whisper of a chance of getting Adelle Hastings off at this preliminary hearing. We stand a chance of beating the case when we try it before a jury in the superior court, because there’s no way on earth the prosecution can prove someone didn’t tamper with the evidence, and there’s all the circumstantial evidence in the world to prove that they did.
“The prosecution can’t prove the case against Adelle Hastings beyond all reasonable doubt unless they can show that it was the murder weapon that was in her purse. So far we know there were two guns in the case; one gun that Garvin Hastings bought some time ago, the other one a gun that he bought shortly after his marriage to Adelle.
“Now, there’s every inference that the gun that we’ll refer to as the Adelle gun, which was the last one bought, was the one that he gave her; and we know that the gun we’ll refer to as the Garvin gun was the fatal gun.”
“You’re overlooking the fact that the fatal gun has the defendant’s fingerprint on it,” Drake said.
“No, I’m not,” Mason said. “Remember, the defendant was married to Garvin Hastings and lived in the house with him for some time. Garvin Hastings had that gun. Probably he kept it under the pillow at night. The defendant could have been using nail polish or polish remover, and touched her middle finger to that gun. She could have been eating candy and left a fingerprint. The very nature of that fingerprint is that it is a permanent fixture as far as the gun is concerned. In other words, it could have been made any time.”
Drake said, “That’s a pretty theory, Perry, but you aren’t going to be able to prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove it,” Mason said. “All I have to do is raise a reasonable doubt in the minds of one of the twelve jurors.”
Drake said, somewhat skeptically, “You’re probably the one man on earth who could do it.”
The waiter brought their food. Mason ceased pacing the floor long enough to seat himself at the table and eat sparingly of the light lunch he had ordered.
Suddenly the lawyer snapped his fingers. “I think I’ve got it, Paul,” he said.
“Got what?” Drake asked.
“The answer we’re looking for. Get your office on the line. Tell them to go to the Las Vegas airport and check the persons who rented drive-yourself cars.”
“But what are you looking for?” Drake asked. “What do you expect to find?”
“I’m toying with a theory, Paul. I may be able to convince a jury that my theory is sound.”
“You think you can show them what actually happened?”
Mason said, “I can show them what could have happened, and the prosecution can’t prove it didn’t happen.”
Chapter Fourteen
By two o’clock Judge Fallon’s courtroom was crowded.
Paul Drake whispered to Perry Mason, “Here’s Hamilton Burger coming in to sit in on the case this afternoon. You know what that means. It means they’ve got some sort of a surprise they’re going to throw at you.”
Mason merely nodded.
A policewoman brought Adelle Hastings into court.
Mason turned to her, said in a low whisper, “Adelle, there’s one thing in this case that bothers me.”
“Only one?” she asked.
“Well,” Mason said, smiling, “one main point. When Simley Beason was on the witness stand he was dreading some question the district attorney was going to ask.”
“Poor Simley,” she said, “he wants to protect me and yet he knows the authorities would just love to arrest him for perjury or as an accomplice or something.”
“All right,” Mason said, “you left the Hastings residence about what time on Monday morning?”
“It was early. I guess it was perhaps six o’clock.”
“And where were you during the day?”
“I’m afraid that I am going to have to hold out on you on that point, Mr. Mason. I know a person shouldn’t hold out on his attorney.”
“I’ll ask you one question,” Mason said, looking her directly in the eye. “Were you with Simley Beason?”
Her eyes faltered. “I...”
A bailiff said, “Everybody stand.”
The spectators and attorneys got to their feet.
Judge Fallon entered from chambers, stood for a moment at the bench, then seated himself and nodded.
“Be seated,” he said.
Judge Fallon frowned thoughtfully. “I notice that the district attorney is present in court and sitting at the counsel table. Is it your intention to participate in the prosecution of this case, Mr. District Attorney, or are you here in connection with another matter?”
“I wish to appear in connection with this case,” Hamilton Burger said.
“Very well, the record will so show,” Judge Fallon said “You may proceed with your case, Mr. Ellis.”
Ellis engaged in a brief whispered conference with Hamilton Burger, then said, “If the Court please, while I had announced that I had completed my examination of Mr. Beason, I now find that there are two or three more questions I would like to ask. I therefore ask the Court’s permission to recall him for redirect examination.”
“Permission is granted,” Judge Fallon said. “Return to the stand, Mr. Beason. Remember you’re already under oath.”
Beason got up, started up the aisle, hesitated briefly, then squaring his shoulders marched through the swinging gate in the bar and up to the witness stand.
Hamilton Burger rose to face the witness.
“Directing your attention to Tuesday morning, the fifth of this month, did you and the defendant have breakfast together?”
“Yes.”
“Directing your attention to Monday, the fourth of this month, did you and the defendant also have breakfast on that morning?”
“Now, if the Court please,” Mason said, “this is apparently merely an attempt to smear the defendant. The defendant had been a faithful wife but had been asked to leave the place which she had made into a home and told to go to Las Vegas and get a divorce, that her husband no longer loved her. She followed those instructions to the letter and certainly anything that was done in connection with meeting other men or talking with them, or having meals with them, is entirely justified. The sole purpose of this testimony is to discredit the defendant in the public press.”