“I prefer the wife,” Mason said thoughtfully. “It sounds like her. By George, Paul, it must have been someone the wife consulted! I’d certainly like to know where she really was the night of the murder.”
Drake said, “I’ve had men nosing around, but we can’t find a thing. Sergeant Dorset gave her the chance to frame that alibi, and the police are taking it at its face value.”
“I’ll bet Tragg smells a rat,” Mason said.
“If he does, he’s keeping his nostrils from quivering even the least bit,” Drake replied. “He isn’t going to stir up any stink in the department merely because Sergeant Dorset let a woman pull the line that she was going to have hysterics and so get a chance for a frame-up. You know, Perry, if Mrs. Faulkner had said she wanted to go out and see her girl friend before Dorset questioned her, they’d have given her the merry ha-ha, and then really given her a third degree. But she says she feels ill, goes out to the back porch, goes through the motions of being sick, and then starts having hysterics, and Dorset is so anxious to get her out of the way until he’s finished his investigation that when she says she wanted to have one of her girl friends come over and stay with her, Dorset practically jumps down her throat telling her to go ahead.”
Mason nodded, said, “I’m beginning to get an idea, Paul. I think that... Here’s the judge coming back to the bench. Looks as though he had really taken things into his own hands... Bet he’s going to give us the breaks from now on. He’s certainly mad enough at the cops.”
Judge Summerville returned to the bench, once more called court into session and said, “Gentlemen, the Court has arranged over the telephone with one of the best consulting criminologists in the city to take charge of that check and see what can be done toward developing latent fingerprints on it. Now do you gentlemen wish to go on with the case? I am frank to state that in view of the peculiar development, the Court will be inclined to give the defense an adjournment in case the defendant wishes it.”
“I think not,” Mason said, “not at the moment, anyway. Perhaps as the evidence progresses...”
“I don’t think I’d like that,” Medford interrupted. “In other words, the counsel for the defense is adopting the position that we’ve got to go on putting on our case and showing our hand and then, at any moment, when the defendant wants to, the defendant can call for an adjournment. I think if there’s any question about it, we should adjourn the case until after the fingerprints have been developed on that check.”
Judge Summerville said crisply, “The Court’s offer was made to the defense. I don’t think that the prosecution is entitled to ask for an adjournment when a valuable piece of evidence, I may say a most valuable piece of evidence, has been permitted to all but slip through its fingers, and would have gone entirely unnoticed if it hadn’t been for counsel for the defense. Proceed with your case, Mr. Medford.”
Medford took the Court’s rebuke with the best grace he could muster. “Of course, your Honor,” he said, “I am merely presenting the case as developed by the police. It is not the function of my office to...”
“I understand, I understand,” Judge Summerville interrupted, “The fault undoubtedly lies with the police, but on the other hand, gentlemen, it is quite evident that it is not the function of the attorney for the defendant to come into court and point out evidence, the significance of which has been entirely overlooked, both by the police and the prosecution. However, that is neither here nor there. Mr. Mason says that he does not care for an adjournment at this time. The Court will state frankly that it will be inclined to give Mr. Mason a reasonable adjournment whenever it is made to appear that it would prejudice the defendant’s case to go on with the examination before all of the evidence is in on that check. Call your next witness, Mr. Medford.”
“Lieutenant Tragg,” Medford said.
Tragg had never been in better form than when he got on the witness stand. In the manner of an impartial, skillful police officer who is only doing his duty and has no personal interest or animosity in the matter, he began to weave a net of circumstantial evidence around Sally Madison, and then, when he testified to the occasion of picking up Sally Madison on the street and finding the gun and the two thousand dollars in bills in her purse, he sprang the bombshell which Ray Medford had been so carefully preparing.
“Now then, Lieutenant Tragg,” Medford said, “did you examine that weapon for the purpose of developing any latent fingerprints?”
“Certainly,” Tragg said.
“And what did you find?”
“I found several latent fingerprints which retained sufficiently distinct characteristics so that they could be positively identified.”
“And whose fingerprints were they?”
“Four fingerprints were those of the defendant.”
“And the others?” Medford asked in a voice that held just a note of conscious triumph.
“The other two fingerprints,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “were those of Miss Della Street, the secretary of Mr. Perry Mason, and the one who, at the request of Perry Mason, had taken Miss Sally Madison to the Kellinger Hotel in an attempt to keep her from being questioned.”
Medford glanced quickly at Mason, not knowing that Paul Drake’s detectives had already tipped Mason off to this point in the evidence, and thinking that he would encounter some expression of dismay.
Mason merely glanced casually at the clock, then looked inquiringly over at Medford.
“Have you finished with the witness?” he asked.
“Cross-examine,” Medford snapped.
Judge Summerville held up his hand. “Just a moment,” he said. “I want to ask your witness a question. Lieutenant Tragg, are you quite certain that the fingerprints you found on that weapon were actually those of Miss Della Street?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“Showing that she had touched that weapon?”
“That is quite right, your Honor.”
“Very well,” Judge Summerville said in a voice that showed his appreciation of the gravity of the situation, “you may cross-examine, Mr. Mason.”
Mason said, “You’ll pardon me, Lieutenant Tragg, if I perhaps review some of your testimony, but as I understand it, you have made a very thorough check of the movements of Harrington Faulkner on the afternoon of the day he met his death?”
“From five o’clock on,” Tragg said. “In fact, we can account for every move he made from five o’clock until the time of his death.”
“And he went to the Rawlins pet store sometime after five o’clock?”
“Yes. He went to the bank, got the money and then went to Rawlins pet store.”
“And he was there some time taking inventory?”
“Around an hour and forty-five minutes.”
“And while he was there he noticed this revolver?”
“That’s right.”
“And put it in his pocket?”
“Yes.”
“And then, according to your theory of the case, when he went to his home he took the gun out of his pocket and put it down — perhaps on the bed?”
Tragg said, “The gun was in his hip pocket. He went home, took off his coat and shirt and started to shave. It’s only natural to suppose that he took the gun out of his pocket.”
“Then,” Mason said suavely, “how does it happen that you didn’t find any of Mr. Faulkner’s fingerprints on the gun?”
Tragg hesitated a moment, said, “The murderer must have wiped all fingerprints off the gun.”
“Why?”
“Obviously,” Tragg said, smiling slightly, “to remove incriminating evidence.”