“Why?” Mason asked.
“Because I just wondered what was going on. I guess a body is entitled to a little human curiosity. Vivian Carson had left her apartment a few days before, carrying some suitcases, and she hadn’t been back. I just wondered where she had gone and what she had been doing.”
“So you kept an eye on her apartment so you could find out.”
“Yes.”
“Now,” Mason said, “you can’t tell the make of the car that these people parked in the garage, can you? That is, the make and model.”
“No, I can’t. It was a green car. That’s all I know.”
“You don’t know very much about the different makes of cars?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you drive a car?”
“No.”
“You don’t own a car?”
“No.”
“Have you ever owned a car?”
“I haven’t owned a car for some time. I use the bus to do my shopping.”
“And you didn’t by any chance jot down the license number on this car?”
“No.”
“Did you notice whether it was an out-of-state license?”
“I wasn’t looking at the car, I was looking at the woman and the man.”
“You had taken it on yourself to become a self-appointed censor of Vivian Carson’s comings and goings?”
“Well, I’m a decent woman. That’s a decent neighborhood and I want to keep it that way. I’d certainly read enough about her in the papers to want to keep my eyes open and see what was happening.”
“Did you know whether what you had read in the papers was true or false?”
“I didn’t say whether it was true or false. I’d read about her in the papers. You wanted to know why I was keeping an eye on her and I’ve told you.”
“Thank you,” Mason said. “I think that covers the situation very nicely, Mrs. Henley — or is it Miss Henley?”
“It’s Miss Henley!” she snapped. “I said ‘Miss’ when I gave my name to the court officer.”
Mason smiled courteously but significantly and glanced at the jurors.
“Thank you very much, Miss Henley,” he said. “I have no further questions.”
“That’s all,” Judge Fisk said. “Call your next witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”
With the manner of a man announcing a dramatic surprise which is destined to have far-reaching repercussions, Ormsby said, “At this time, Your Honor, I wish to call Nadine Palmer to the stand.”
Nadine Palmer came forward and was sworn. She was wearing a teak-brown suit, a modish hat, and carried a brown leather purse. Her long legs, beautifully tan under gossamer nylons, were accented by highly polished brown shoes.
Her alert eyes were watchful as she settled herself in the witness box and looked quickly from Ormsby to Mason and back to Ormsby, then over at the jury, then once more back to the prosecutor.
“Your name is Nadine Palmer, you reside at 1721 Crockley Avenue?”
“That is right.”
“Are you acquainted with either of the defendants?”
“I am not personally acquainted with either of them, no.”
“Did you know Loring Carson in his lifetime?”
“I had seen him. I don’t remember having talked with him, and when I say I am not personally acquainted with Mrs. Carson I do not mean to imply that I do not know her by sight. I have attended several meetings where she has been present and I know her when I see her.”
“Directing your attention to the fifteenth of March of this year, I will ask you where you were on the morning of that day.”
“I drove to a place known as Vista Point.”
“Now, can you tell us where Vista Point is in relation to the house built by Loring Carson and sold to Morley Eden?”
“It’s about a quarter of a mile — well, perhaps not that far — from the house. The site is so situated that you can look down on the back of the house — the patio, the swimming pool and the property below the swimming pool.”
“It is considerably higher than the house in question?”
“Yes. I don’t know just how many feet, but you can look down on the house. You can see the roof.”
“Can you see the road leading up to the house?”
“No, you can’t see that. You can only see the patio, the swimming pool and the rooms on that side of the house. The house itself obscures the view of the driveway on the other side and it’s impossible to see the road leading to the house because that comes up a slight grade and the house shuts off the view.”
“I see,” Ormsby said. “Now, I have here a map showing Vista Point, and I will ask you if you will first orient yourself with this map and then point out to the jury just where you were on the fifteenth of March of this year.”
After a moment the witness placed a finger on the map. “I was here,” she said.
“What time was it?”
“It was about — well, I guess I got there about ten-fifteen or a little after.”
“And did you wait there?”
“I waited.”
“Did you have any visual aid with you?”
“I had a pair of binoculars.”
“And what were you doing with those binoculars?”
“I was watching the rear of the Carson house.”
“By the Carson house you mean the house that was built by Loring Carson and sold to Morley Eden?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask what was your reason for being there?”
“It was a personal reason. I... I understood that a gentleman who resented some of the things that Loring Carson had done to my reputation was going to insist upon Carson making some sort of a retraction and if Carson was recalcitrant he intended to — well, I believe he said he intended to teach him a lesson.”
“While you were there what did you see — did you see any signs of activity?”
“Yes.”
“Will you describe them to the jury, please?”
“Well, when I first started watching there seemed to be no one home... and...”
“That can be stricken out as a conclusion of the witness,” Ormsby said. “Just state what you saw. Don’t give your conclusions, Mrs. Palmer — just what you saw.”
“Well, I parked my car, got out and looked through the binoculars from time to time. I would look away to rest my eyes and then look back, and if I saw something I thought would interest me I raised the binoculars.”
“And what was the first thing that you saw, the first motion?”
“I saw Loring Carson.”
“Now, where did you see him?”
“He was on the kitchen side of the house.”
“Let’s get this straight as far as the record is concerned,” Ormsby said. “The house was divided by a barbed-wire fence. You saw that?”
“Oh, of course.”
“On one side of the barbed-wire fence was the portion of the house which contained the kitchen. On the other side of the fence was the part which contained a portion of the living room and the bedrooms.”
“That is, generally speaking, correct.”
“Let’s refer, then, to the kitchen side of the house and the bedroom side of the house, just to keep the record straight at this point,” Ormsby said. “Now, where was Mr. Loring Carson when you first saw him?”
“On the kitchen side of the house.”
“You’re positive?”
“I’m positive.”
“What did you do, with reference to watching him?”
“I focused the binoculars on him.”
“Do you know the magnification of those binoculars?”
“Eight-power.”
“Could you see him clearly?”
“Quite clearly.”
“You recognized him?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Could you see what he was doing?”
“He bent down over the swimming pool by the steps. I couldn’t see what he was doing. I kept trying to focus the glasses so as to get the best adjustment possible.”