“The woman said—”
“Now, by the woman, whom do you mean?”
“The defendant Vivian Carson.”
“All right, what did Mrs. Carson say?”
“She said, ‘Darling, we can never live this down.’ ”
“And then what? Go on, what was the conversation?”
“Then Morley Eden said, ‘We don’t have to. We’ll never say anything about this to anyone. We’ll let the newspaper people discover the body. Mason has arranged for a press conference out here later on. The reporters will discover the body. I’ll pretend it’s all news to me.’
“Then Vivian Carson said, ‘But what about the knife? That’s the knife from my kitchen,’ and Morley Eden said, ‘We can get another one. We’re not going to let a thing like this come between us now. We have just discovered each other and we’re entitled to happiness without having anything mar it. I’ll fight for our happiness.’ ”
“Then what?”
“Then I heard them moving. I thought they were coming toward the swimming pool. I hesitated for a moment, then crowded in close to the edge of the building where they couldn’t see me unless they came out on the patio and looked around.”
“Then what?”
“Then I heard a door close and realized they had gone out. After that, everything was silent in the house.”
“So what did you do then?”
“I went back down to the trail and climbed slowly and laboriously back up the hill to where I had left my car and drove home.”
“What time did you get home?”
“About... Oh, I guess it was a little after eleven-thirty.”
“And what did you do?”
“I didn’t notify the police. I didn’t know what had happened. I did feel afraid and — well, I felt guilty about spying and about eavesdropping. I didn’t know that a murder had been committed.”
“Now then, I will go back and ask you once more,” Ormsby said. “Did you recognize the nude woman who ran and jumped in the swimming pool?”
“I think I did.”
“If you could avoid the use of the word ‘think’ it would help,” Ormsby said, “because that is susceptible of several interpretations and of course counsel on the other side will try to use the interpretation that is most disadvantageous to you. Now, kindly tell us just what your mental appraisal of the situation is.”
“Well, I... I saw this woman. She was completely nude. I had of course only a fleeting glimpse but I...”
“Do you know who she is?”
“I feel almost positive that it was the defendant Vivian Carson.”
Ormsby turned to Mason with a smile. “Cross-examine, Counselor.”
“Almost certain?” Mason asked the witness.
She nodded.
“You aren’t entirely certain?”
“No.”
“You can’t swear to it?”
“No.”
“There’s at least a reasonable doubt in your own mind as to whether it was the defendant you saw or not?”
“Yes — I suppose it’s only fair to say that there is such a reasonable doubt. I’m just not certain, that’s all.”
“What did you do when you got home?” Mason asked.
“I took a shower.”
“Any particular reason?”
“No. I... Well, I’d been running around through the brush and the ground was dry. I was covered with dust. I wanted a shower and I took a shower.”
“You had a visitor while you were taking the shower?”
“That was just afterward. Are you trying to have me tell about your visit, Mr. Mason?”
“I’m trying to get you to tell the truth,” Mason said. “Did you have a visitor?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“You.”
“And did you have some conversation with me?”
“Just a moment,” Ormsby said. “I object to this as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial and not proper cross-examination. It has not been inquired into on direct examination.”
“But there’s no question about the conversation, is there, Mr. Prosecutor?” Judge Fisk asked impatiently.
“I don’t know. There may be. I can’t tell.”
“The conversation,” Mason said, “is for the purpose of showing that the witness, even at that time, was concealing certain matters and dissembling as to others.”
“She was under no obligation to tell you what she had seen,” Ormsby said.
Judge Fisk looked up at the clock. “Well, we’ll come back to it after a brief noon adjournment,” he said. “It is now slightly after twelve. Court will adjourn, until one-fifteen this afternoon. During that time the jurors are admonished not to form or express any opinion as to the merits of this case, or as to the guilt or innocence of the defendants. Nor are they to discuss the case among themselves, nor suffer anyone to discuss it in their presence. Court will take a recess until one-fifteen P.M.”
As the spectators filed from the courtroom Mason swung around in his swivel chair to face his clients. He motioned the officers out of earshot, signifying that he wanted a moment’s private conference.
“Look here,” Mason said in a low voice, “you’re going to have to tell me what happened.”
Morley Eden doggedly shook his head.
Vivian Carson blinked back tears.
“Let’s take things up specifically,” Mason said. “Did you or did you not park Loring Carson’s car in your garage? Is that woman mistaken on her identification? If she isn’t telling the truth the possibilities that are opened up are enormous. If she is telling the truth I don’t want to waste time and money trying to find the people who actually were parking the car.”
After a moment Eden said, “I’ll tell you this much, Mr. Mason. She’s telling the truth. We parked the car.”
“Why in heaven’s name did you do that?” Mason asked angrily.
“If you knew all the facts,” Eden said, “you’d realize there was nothing else we could do, but if you knew all the facts you wouldn’t — well, you wouldn’t give us a whisper of a chance.”
“You don’t stand much more than that now,” Mason observed thoughtfully.
“We can’t help it. We’re going to have to fight it out along these lines.”
“Why did you park the car in the garage?” Mason asked.
“Because,” Eden said, “it had been parked at the curb in front of Vivian’s apartment, it had been parked in front of a fireplug and had been tagged. We only had a minute in which to act and we didn’t know what else to do. We wanted to get it off the street.”
“That car had been tagged for parking by a fireplug in front of Vivian’s apartment?” Mason asked incredulously.
“That’s right.”
“And you knew, of course, that it was Loring Carson’s car,” Mason said.
“Certainly. And the worst of it is, it had been tagged for parking there at three o’clock in the morning. You know what that means — everyone would have felt certain Loring and I had resumed marital relations.”
“I don’t get it,” Mason said. “But it’s better to have people think you had resumed marital relations than to buy yourself a one-way ticket to the gas chamber.”
“Of course,” she said impatiently, “we know that now. But you have to think of the way we saw things on March fifteenth.”
“Why did he park his car there?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m satisfied it was part of some diabolical scheme that Loring had been hatching up. He took his car and left it parked at the curb in front of the fireplug where he knew it would be tagged.”
“What were you doing in town together?” Mason asked.
Morley Eden looked questioningly at Vivian. She shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Eden said. “We’ve answered all the questions we’re going to answer, Mason. You’ve just got to carry on as a lawyer. Just assume that we are guilty. Let’s assume that we committed a cold-blooded murder and you’re the attorney representing us. As an attorney you’d look for every possible loophole in the evidence. You’d try everything you could. Now you just go ahead and try the case that way. Do the best you can. It’s all we can expect.”