Suddenly Della Street said, “Gosh, Chief, I’ve got an idea. If — it’s so simple that it would be a cinch, and so daring it scares me.”
Mason cocked an eyebrow in her direction.
“Look,” Della Street said, the excitement making her voice run the words together, “how do we know she was packing? Everyone takes it for granted she was packing because the clothes were neatly folded and were in the suitcase and on the top of the bureau. But suppose that when it comes to a showdown, we can show that she was unpacking?”
Mason frowned thoughtfully, then his face broke into a smile. “Darling!”
“Just a few little things here and there,” Della Street went on. “Clues that would naturally have escaped the untutored, male eyes of the blundering cops, but things that you could bring out in front of a jury, things that would really mean something, particularly if we have some women members on the jury.”
“We’ll get the women on the jury,” Mason said. “But how are we going to find these little things that will make it appear she was unpacking instead of packing?”
Della Street said, “You leave that to me,” and made a run for her bedroom, emerging presently with a fur coat, and a jaunty hat perched on one side of her head.
“What’s holding us back?” she asked.
Mason said, “My damn conservative disposition.”
“I was afraid of that,” she told him.
Mason got to his feet, took Della Street into his arms and kissed her. She laughed up at him, and he said, “Why it is your feminine charms are never so alluring as when you’ve thought of some piece of skulduggery?”
“It’s a subject we can discuss later,” she said. “Right now we have work to do. Suppose Tragg’s having the place watched?”
“That’s what we’ll have to find out.”
“And if we get caught?”
“We’re just looking for evidence — and if Tragg doesn’t believe that, your feminine charms will have to go to work again,” Mason replied.
“On Tragg? Let’s not get caught,” Della Street said.
Chapter 17
Mason drove his car slowly past the four-flat house.
“Take a good look, Della.”
“I’m looking.”
“All dark?”
“Dark as the inside of a pocket.”
“We’ll drive around the block,” Mason said, “and look for a police car. There’s a chance a guard might be sleeping inside the flat. If so, he’ll have a car parked around here somewhere.”
They cruised slowly around the block, watching the license numbers of the parked cars.
“See anything official?” Della Street asked.
Mason said, “I think we’re in the clear, Della. We’ll circle around a couple more blocks, just to make sure.”
“How strong are we going to go after we get in?” she asked.
Mason said, “Just strong enough to rattle these birds on cross-examination and drive home a point to the jury. When you come right down to it, Della, no one knows whether Rose Keeling was packing to leave town or whether she had been planning on leaving town and was unpacking the suitcases when she was murdered.
“When the trial starts, the D.A. will put Lieutenant Tragg on the stand and ask him what he found when he discovered the body. Tragg will state that he found the body nude, sprawled on the floor in front of the bathroom door with the feet toward the bathroom, the air in the bathroom still steamy, the temperature of the tub warmer than that of the surrounding air, indicating that she had been taking a bath; that he’d found clothes on the bed and all that, and then he’ll go on to state that there were two suitcases open and that she had been packing those suitcases.
“You can leave it to Tragg to slip that in very skillfully before anyone can make an objection. Then I’ll move to strike out the statement that she was packing, on the ground that that was a conclusion of the witness, and the D.A. will say wearily, ‘Oh, yes, that can go out if you insist that it’s a conclusion, Mr. Mason.’ And then he’ll turn to Tragg with a superior smile and say, ‘Just what did you find, Lieutenant? Since Mr. Mason objects to having you say that the girl was packing, just what did you find?’
“And then Tragg will say, ‘I found two suitcases in front of the dresser. There were some folded clothes on the dresser. The fold on the clothes was of exactly the right dimension to enable them to fit into the suitcase when they were placed on top of the clothes already in there. The suitcases contained articles of feminine clothing which we have identified as having belonged to Rose Keeling in her lifetime.’ ”
“Then what?” Della Street asked.
“Then,” Mason said, “the District Attorney will turn to the jury with something of a smirk, as much as to say, ‘You see what a technical chap this Mason is and how he’s trying to resort to all kinds of technicalities in order to keep his client from being convicted.’ Those are little tricks of courtroom technique but they can be used to put a defense attorney at a disadvantage.”
“And after we get in the flat? Then what?”
“Then,” Mason said, “after we get in the flat, we’ll know a lot more than we do now. We’ll let Tragg slip in the statement that she had been packing her suitcases at the time of her death, and make no objection to it. But when we start our cross-examination, we’ll say, ‘Lieutenant, your assumption was that this woman had been packing. How do you know she was packing? How do you know she wasn’t unpacking?’ And Tragg will sarcastically say, ‘She hadn’t been any place, had she? Or do you claim she kept her clothes in her suitcases and then once a week or so she put them in the bureau drawers just to give them a treat?’ And then the judge will frown, the jury smile, and the people in the courtroom laugh.
“And then I’ll start asking him specifically about the articles that were in the suitcase and will bring out the evidence that shows she was unpacking instead of packing. And that will make it appear that I knew what I was talking about all along, that the District Attorney has missed a bet, and, more important than all, it will keep from crucifying Marilyn Marlow with that story she’s telling. In other words, if Rose Keeling had been packing, she never would have invited Marilyn Marlow to come back and play tennis. If she had been unpacking, she could very well have done so. It’s just a little thing, but it may mean the difference between conviction and acquittal in a murder case. In one way Marilyn Marlow’s story has to be a lie, and in the other way it may be the truth. How about this block, Della? Have you seen anything that looks like a police car?”
“Not a thing so far.”
Mason said, “Well, we can’t comb the whole city. We’ve got the key. Let’s take a chance.”
“Okay by me,” Della said. “Where are you going to leave the car?”
“Right in front of the flat,” Mason told her.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Sure it’s dangerous. The whole thing is dangerous. The minute we walk in there, we’re playing into Tragg’s hands. If he should spot us, he’ll arrest us for burglary.”
“But we aren’t taking anything.”
“Burglary,” Mason said, “is a matter of intent.”
“What do you mean?”
“A person who enters a building with intent to commit larceny or any felony is guilty of burglary.”
“You mean if we were caught inside the building, we wouldn’t have any defense?”
“We’d have to convince a jury that our intent in entering the building wasn’t to take anything. That might be quite a job. The police would claim we intended to take something out with us.”