“And what happened?”
“The same thing which always happens whenever we tried to plan anything. Business intervened, and Adler had to go to San Francisco on the eighteenth. He promised to try and get back on the morning of the nineteenth. Then he phoned he couldn’t make it. About noon he phoned again and said he would try to take the four o’clock plane.”
“When Mr. Greeley went to San Francisco, what clothes did the take?”
“He threw a few clothes into a suitcase, and jumped in the car and drove off.”
“In what car?”
“In his car. He leaves it at the airport. I have my own machine.”
“How was he dressed?”
“He was wearing a gray double-breasted suit.”
“Any overcoat?”
“There was an overcoat over his arm, but he wasn’t wearing it.”
“Did he have any evening clothes in that suitcase? That is, did he take his dinner-clothes?”
“As to that I can’t say. He packed the suitcase himself, but I don’t think he...”
“The witness will refrain from stating what she thinks,” Judge Cortright interrupted.
“Did you have any communication with him after he left?” the deputy district attorney asked.
“Yes, several times. He telephoned and asked me to find some papers for him in his desk.”
“But when did you see Mr. Greeley again?”
“He came in Thursday morning, very early in the morning. I don’t know just what time it was.”
“You say he asked you to find some papers?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He telephoned me.”
“When?”
“About four o’clock.”
“From where?”
“From San Francisco.”
“How do you know it was from San Francisco?”
“I heard the operator say that San Francisco was calling, and then Adler came on the line, and said he was at San Francisco. He told me to find the papers he wanted and telephone him at a certain number what was in the papers.”
“You did that?”
“Yes.”
“And telephoned him?”
“That’s right.”
“How did you telephone him?”
“I said that I wanted to put in a call for the number he had given me.”
“You remember what that number was?”
“Unfortunately I don’t. I made a note of it at the time on a little pad by the telephone so I could call him back. He didn’t tell me where the telephone was located, just the number of it. I have found out since. You told me...”
“Never mind what anyone told you,” Judge Cortright interrupted. “As I understand it, he just gave you a number?”
“That’s right.”
“Go ahead, Counselor.”
“But,” Hanley insisted, “you did call long distance, tell the operator you wanted to talk with San Francisco, and give her that San Francisco number.”
“That is right.”
“And did you reach Mr. Greeley?”
“Almost at once. She told me to hold the line, and the call was put through at once. It was at seventeen minutes past five when he came on the line. We talked two and one-half minutes. I always hold a watch on these long-distance calls.”
“Now, did you say you wanted to talk with Mr. Greeley?”
“No. It was just a station-to-station call. He told me to put it in that way.”
“Since you have talked with me, you have asked for your long-distance telephone bill?”
“That’s right.”
“And under the date of the nineteenth, does that call show on your bill?”
“It does.”
“And, using that as a reference, you can find out what this number was?”
“Yes.”
“And since you have told me about it, have you made any attempt to find out where this number in San Francisco is located?”
“I have.”
Hanley said to Mason, “It is a public pay station at the Southern Pacific Depot at Third and Townsend Streets. You can verify it from the telephone company’s records.”
He turned to Mrs. Greeley.
“Now, is there any possibility that it was not your husband with whom you talked?”
She smiled. “Absolutely not.”
“And this call was put through at approximately five-seventeen o’clock in the afternoon?”
“That is right.”
“And when did your husband come home?”
“Sometime after midnight. He told me when I talked with him over the telephone that he would try to catch a night plane. I think he said there was a ten o’clock plane which would get him in shortly after midnight. You see, he had taken his car and left it parked at the airport... Oh, I have already told you that.”
“You don’t know where he had parked his car?” Judge Cortright asked.
“Only from what he told me.”
“But you don’t know of your own knowledge that the car was at the airport?”
“No, of course not. I didn’t go out to look for it, but I do know he was in San Francisco at about four o’clock in the afternoon, and that he was still in San Francisco at quarter past five, because I talked with him on the telephone.”
“You heard your husband come in?”
“Oh, yes. He wakened me, but I didn’t look at the clock. I don’t know just what time it was, but it was... Well, I went to bed at eleven. I hadn’t been asleep very long. I would say it was between one and two that he returned.”
“Was there anything unusual in his manner or bearing when he returned?”
“No.”
“Did you smell liquor on his breath?”
“No.”
“Was he wearing a tuxedo when he returned?”
“No.”
“Was he injured in any way?”
“No, of course not.”
“You may cross-examine,” Hanley said to Perry Mason.
“You don’t know whether the business which took him to San Francisco was that of Mr. Jules Homan?” Mason asked.
“No. I only know it was something unexpected and important.”
“Did the papers which you procured for him have anything to do with Mr. Jules Homan’s business?”
“Well... they had to do with Mr. Homan’s stock. He wanted me to get the list of Mr. Homan’s holdings.”
“Did he say why he wanted them?”
“No. He just asked me to get the list and then read off the stocks over the telephone.”
“That’s all,” Mason said.
Hanley looked at his watch. “Your Honor, my next witness is one who...”
He turned toward the entrance to the courtroom as a man came bustling in. “Mr. Homan, will you please come forward and take the stand?”
Homan carried an alligator-skin brief case in his right hand, and walked with the quick, nervous strides of a man who is in very much of a hurry. He seemed breathless with haste. His name, he stated to the reporter, was Jules Carne Homan. His residence was in Beverly Hills, and his occupation was that of producer of motion pictures. He adjusted his glasses and frowned down at the deputy district attorney, as much as to say, “Well, well, come on. Let us get it over with.”
Hanley said, “Mr. Homan, you are the owner of a certain Buick four-passenger coupe, license number 8V7243, and were such owner on the nineteenth of this month?”
“Yes, sir. That is right.”
“Do you know where your automobile was on the evening of the nineteenth?”
“It was involved in a traffic accident on the Ridge Route.”
“Were you driving that automobile?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know who was?”
“No, sir.”
“Was anyone driving it with your permission, express or implied?”
“No, sir.”
“When had you last seen the automobile prior to the time of the collision, Mr. Homan?”
“I don’t know about the time of the collision — not of my own knowledge.”