“Therefore,” Mason said, “if the defendant had been the one who committed the murder and had thought enough of the problem of fingerprints to have wiped all fingerprints off the gun, she would hardly have gone ahead after that and left her own fingerprints on it, would she?”
Tragg was obviously jarred by the question. He said, “Of course, you’re assuming something there, Mr. Mason.”
“What am I assuming?”
“You’re assuming that I know something of what was in the defendant’s mind.”
“You’ve already testified to what was in the mind of the murderer,” Mason said. “You have testified that the murderer wiped the fingerprints off the weapon to remove incriminating evidence. Now then, I am asking you if that theory is consistent with the theory that Sally Madison committed the murder.”
Lieutenant Tragg obviously realized the force of Mason’s suggestion. He shifted his position uncomfortably.
“Isn’t it far more likely that she is telling the truth, and that she picked up the gun in order to remove it from the scene of the crime, knowing that it was Tom Gridley’s gun?”
“I’ll leave that up to the Court,” Tragg said.
“Thank you,” Mason announced, smiling. “And now, I want to ask you a couple of other questions, Lieutenant Tragg. It is the theory of the police, I believe, that Harrington Faulkner was writing this check stub and was about to write the name Tom Gridley in the check stub when he was shot?”
“That’s right.”
“The fact that he had written only the first three letters of the last name, and the fact that the checkbook was found where it had fallen on the floor, are the things on which you predicate your conclusion?”
“That, plus the fact that the fountain pen also fell on the floor.”
“Don’t you think that something else might have interrupted the deceased?”
“Such as what?” Tragg asked. “I’d be glad to have you mention something that would cause a man to stop writing in the middle of a name that way.”
“Perhaps the ringing of a telephone?” Mason asked.
“Not a chance in the world,” Tragg said. “That is, if you want my opinion.”
“I’m asking for it,” Mason said.
“If the telephone had rung, the decedent would certainly have finished the name ‘Gridley’ before he answered the telephone. And he wouldn’t have dropped the checkbook on the floor and wouldn’t have dropped the fountain pen on the floor.”
“Therefore,” Mason said, “the thing that prevented the decedent from finishing writing the name ‘Gridley’ was the fatal shot?”
“I think there’s no other conclusion.”
“You have talked with a gentleman named Charles Menlo?”
“Yes.”
“And, without anticipating Mr. Menlo’s testimony, I believe you know that Mr. Menlo will state that he was talking with the decedent on the telephone at the time when someone, apparently the defendant, entered the house and was ordered out by Mr. Faulkner?”
“This, of course, is very irregular,” Medford interposed.
“I think counsel is simply trying to save time,” Judge Summerville said. “Do you want to object to the question?”
“No, I think not. There’s no question about Mr. Menlo’s testimony.”
“That’s right,” Lieutenant Tragg said.
“Therefore,” Mason went on, “if it had been the defendant who entered the house at that time...”
“She admits that she did,” Tragg said. “Her own written statement covers that point.”
“Exactly,” Mason went on. “And if she found the door open and entered, encountered Harrington Faulkner in the bedroom, talking on the telephone, and if Faulkner then tried to eject her and she snatched up the gun and shot him, she could hardly have shot him while he was writing a check stub in the bathroom, could she?”
“Wait a minute. How’s that again?” Tragg asked.
Mason said, “It’s quite obvious, Lieutenant. The police theory is that Faulkner was telephoning when Sally Madison came into the room. Faulkner still had some lather on his face. He was running water in the bathtub. He ordered the defendant out. There was a struggle. She saw the gun lying on the bed and picked it up and shot him. Now then, if she had shot him while he was struggling with her in the bedroom, she couldn’t have shot him while he was writing that check stub in the bathroom, could she?”
Tragg said, “No,” and then after a moment added, “I’m glad you brought up that point, Mr. Mason, because it makes the murder a deliberate, cold-blooded murder instead of one committed in the heat of rage.”
“Just how do you reason that out?” Mason asked.
“Because Faulkner must have gone back to the bathroom and picked up the checkbook and started writing the check stub when she shot him.”
“That’s your theory now?” Mason asked.
Tragg said, smiling, “It’s your theory, Mr. Mason, and I’m now beginning to think it’s a good one.”
“And when Faulkner fell as the result of that shot, did he upset the table containing the bowl in which the goldfish were swimming?”
“He did.”
“But,” Mason said, “there was an agateware container and one goldfish in the bathtub. How do you account for those?”
“I think one of the fish must have fallen into the bathtub.”
Mason smiled. “Remembering, Lieutenant, that at that time Faulkner was drawing hot water for a bath. How long do you think the fish would have lived in hot bath water and how do you think the agateware container got in the bathtub?”
Tragg frowned, thought for a few seconds, then said, “I’m not a mind reader.”
Mason smiled courteously. “Thank you, Lieutenant, for that concession. I was afraid that you had been trying to qualify as such. Particularly in regard to your comments as to the fingerprints of Della Street on the gun. For all you know, those prints might have been put on the gun before the murder.”
“Not the way you’ve explained it,” Tragg said. “The murderer must have wiped all fingerprints off the gun.”
“Then, the murderer could hardly have been Sally Madison.”
Tragg frowned. “I want to think that over a bit,” he said.
Mason bowed to Judge Summerville. “And that, your Honor, is the point at which I will terminate my cross-examination. I would like to let Lieutenant Tragg think it over a little bit — think it over a whole lot.”
Judge Summerville said to Medford, “Call your next witness.”
“Louis C. Corning,” Medford announced. “Please come forward, Mr. Corning.”
Corning, the fingerprint expert who had lifted the fingerprints from the various objects in Faulkner’s house, testified in detail as to the fingerprints he had found, and paid particular attention to a fingerprint of Sally Madison which had been found on the handle of the satchel under the bed — a fingerprint which was introduced in evidence and marked, “F. P. No. 10.”
“Cross-examine,” Medford said to Perry Mason, as soon as the witness had positively identified that particular fingerprint.
“Why,” Mason asked on cross-examination, “did you use the so-called lifting method?”
“Because,” the witness answered defiantly, “that was the only method to use.”
“You mean that you couldn’t have used any other?”
“I mean that it wouldn’t have been practical.”
“What do you mean by that?”
The witness said, “Attorneys for the defense always try to hold a field day with an expert who has lifted fingerprints. But when you’re called on to investigate a crime of that sort, you have to lift the fingerprints, and that’s all there is to it. Lifting enables you to make a complete examination and a careful examination, and to avoid the mistakes which are sometimes made by the use of too much haste — such as when a person is trying to examine and classify a lot of latent fingerprints in a short time.”