“Let’s see that check,” Judge Summerville said abruptly.
Mason said, “May I suggest, your Honor, that the check be handled very carefully and only by one corner so that if there are any fingerprints remaining...”
“Quite right. Quite right,” Judge Summerville said.
Mason, holding the check by one corner carried it up to Judge Summerville’s desk. Judge Summerville took the checkbook which had been introduced in evidence from the clerk of the court, and while Medford and Mason leaned over his shoulders, the judge carefully placed the check against the perforations of the checkbook. There was no mistaking the keen interest on the judge’s face.
“It fits,” he said in a tone of finality. “That’s the check.”
“Of course,” Medford started to protest, “that merely means...”
“It means that there is less than one chance in ten million that the jagged, irregular lines of that torn piece of paper would coincide with the place which was torn from the check stub unless that was the check that was torn from the book,” Judge Summerville said sharply.
“Therefore,” Mason interposed, “we are faced with a situation where the decedent evidently started to fill out the stub of a check showing a payment made to Tom Gridley of one thousand dollars, but tore the check which was attached to that stub out of the book and placed it within the leaves of this magazine. It is, therefore, quite apparent that the decedent never intended to fill out the check, but only to fill out a check stub, leaving it to appear that he had made a check to Tom Gridley.”
“What would be the object in doing that?” Judge Summerville asked Mason.
Mason smiled. “At the moment, your Honor, the prosecution is putting on its case, and I will therefore leave the answering of that question to the prosecution. When the defendant puts on her case, she will endeavor to explain any evidence that she introduces. And in the meantime, I suggest that the prosecution explain the evidence it introduces.”
“I haven’t introduced it,” Medford said testily.
“Well, you should have,” Judge Summerville told him sharply, “and the evidence is going to be introduced if the Court has to do it on its own motion. But first we’re going to turn that over to a fingerprint expert and see whether any latent fingerprints can be developed.”
“I would suggest,” Mason said, “that the Court appoint its own expert. Not that the police are at all incapable, but they may be somewhat biased.”
“The Court will appoint its own expert,” Judge Summerville announced. “The Court will take an adjournment for ten minutes, during which time the Court will get in communication with an expert criminologist and see what fingerprints can be developed on this check. In the meantime, the clerk will keep this check in his custody. I suggest that we run a pin through this corner and that the check be handled in such a way that any fingerprints which may remain on it will not be disturbed.”
There was just enough accent on the words “which may remain” to make it apparent that Judge Summerville was expressing judicial irritation that the evidence had not been given proper consideration by the police at a time when there would have been a chance of developing latent fingerprints.
Judge Summerville retired with dignity to his chambers and left Medford free to engage in a whispered conference with Sergeant Dorset and Lieutenant Tragg. Dorset, quite plainly, was angry and irritated. But Tragg was puzzled and cautious.
Della Street and Paul Drake came up to stand beside Mason.
“Looks like a break, Perry,” Drake said.
“It’s about time,” Mason told him. “It certainly has been a hoodooed case.”
“But what does it mean, Perry?”
“Frankly,” Mason said, “I’ll be darned if I know. I guess there’s no question but what that was Faulkner’s handwriting on the check stub.”
“I understand there’s a handwriting expert who will swear to it,” Drake said.
“A good one?”
“Yes.”
“What I can’t understand,” Della Street said, “is why the man should write out the stub of a check and then tear the check out. Of course, Faulkner was equal to anything, and he may have intended to have it appear he had given Tom Gridley a thousand-dollar check.”
“But it wouldn’t make any difference if his books had shown he’d given Gridley twenty one-thousand dollar checks. Not until Gridley cashed the check would there be any actual payment of money. There’s something a lot deeper here than appears on the surface. And I’ve really overlooked a bet.”
Paul Drake said, “I’ve just found out something, Perry. I don’t know whether it will help or not, but somewhere around eight-thirty, the night of the murder, someone rang up Tom Gridley. He said he wanted to talk a little business, but wouldn’t give his name. He said he wanted to ask just one or two simple questions. He then went on to say that he understood Gridley was having a dispute over some money matters with Harrington Faulkner and that Faulkner had offered Gridley seven hundred and fifty dollars for a settlement.”
Mason’s eyes were alert with concentration. “Go on, Paul. What did Gridley say to that?”
“Said he didn’t know why he should discuss his affairs with a stranger, and the man’s voice said he wanted to do Tom a favor, that he’d like to know if Tom would settle for a thousand.”
“Then what?”
“Then Tom, being sick and irritable, said that if Faulkner had a check for one thousand dollars in his hands before noon of the next day he’d settle, if it meant anything to anyone, and slammed up the phone and went back to bed.”
“To whom has he told this?” Mason asked.
“Apparently to the police. He hasn’t held anything back with the police and they’re giving him what breaks they can. They tried for a while to fit that conversation in with the thousand-dollar check stub. Their best guess was that someone was acting as intermediary and had already got the thousand-dollar check from Faulkner and was trying to clean things up.”
“But why?” Mason asked.
“Search me.”
“And that conversation was around eight-thirty?”
“There we run into a snag. Tom Gridley had been in bed with fever. He was terribly nervous and all worked up over his dealings with Faulkner, and Faulkner buying the pet store and all that stuff. He had been just dozing off, and he didn’t notice the time. A while later, after he’d thought things over a bit, he looked at his watch, and it was then around nine ten. He thinks the call was around a little more than half an hour before he looked at his watch. That’s a poor way to fix time. It might have been right around eight-twenty, or it may have been quite a bit later. The point is that Gridley swears it wasn’t before eight-fifteen because he’d looked at his watch at eight o’clock and then had been awake for several minutes before he dozed into a light slumber.
“That’s the story, Perry. The police didn’t think much of it after they found they couldn’t tie it in with the check for one thousand dollars, and particularly since Tom wasn’t certain of the time.”
“It wasn’t Faulkner, Paul?”
“Apparently not. Tom said it was a strange voice, the voice of a stranger to him. The man seemed rather authoritative, as though he knew what he was doing, and Tom had thought it might have been some lawyer Faulkner had consulted.”
“It could have been, at that,” Mason said. “Faulkner had those lawsuits which demanded attention. But why wouldn’t any lawyer have come forward? Hang it, Paul, the conversation must have taken place right about the time Faulkner was murdered.”
Drake nodded, said, “On the other hand, it may have been someone who thought he had a chance to settle things, someone whom the wife had consulted, or perhaps someone Carson had asked to get things straightened out.”