Hamilton Burger’s face showed complete, utter surprise.
“Is that generally the background of the prosecution’s case?” Mason asked him.
“We’ll put on our own case,” Hamilton Burger said.
Judge Lennox said, “You may put on your case, Mr. Burger, but the Court is entitled to know generally whether this outline of the background of the case as given by the defendants’ Counsel is correct.”
“It is substantially correct, Your Honor,” Burger said sullenly. “I had assumed Counsel for the defendants would try to keep out this evidence. His statement comes as a surprise.”
Judge Lennox frowned. “I can now appreciate the reason for the comments of the District Attorney concerning testimony regarding other crimes which might furnish in some way a motive for the crime charged in this case.”
Mason sat in the mahogany counsel chair, his long legs crossed in front of him, his eyes thoughtful, speculative, regarding the young man on the witness stand.
“Now on the night in question you were acting both as night clerk and switchboard operator?”
“Yes.”
“And there was a call from room 721 — a woman saying, ‘Call the police’?”
“Yes.”
“Yet you did nothing about that?”
“Certainly I did. The woman hung up. I immediately called back on the phone, and asked what was the trouble. She laughed at me and said to be my age, that it was a gag.”
“You did nothing else?”
“Certainly not. I assumed her boy friend had become a little too wolfish and so she decided she’d throw a scare into him. But she obviously wasn’t worried.”
“Did it occur to you that another woman had answered your ring?”
“Not at the time. In the Keymont you don’t call the police for anything short of a riot. You handle trouble yourself.”
“Yet you did call the police later?”
“When a revolver shot was reported, yes. You can’t overlook a revolver shot.”
Once more Mason regarded the witness with thoughtful speculation.
“Your employers know about your criminal record, Mr. Hoxie?”
“I’ve told you they did.”
“And it’s brought up to you once in a while?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Whenever you are called upon to do something that might be perhaps a little bit irregular?”
“You have no right to examine me about anything except the facts in this case,” the witness retorted.
“Quite right,” Mason said, and, without turning his head, said over his shoulder, “Is Lieutenant Tragg in court?”
“Here,” Lieutenant Tragg said.
Mason said, “Lieutenant, you have a photograph of Robert Claremont, the rookie cop who was murdered in this city something over a year ago. Would you mind stepping forward and showing that photograph to the witness?”
“What does all this have to do with the present case?” Hamilton Burger asked irritably.
“It may have a great deal to do with it,” Mason said, without even turning toward the source of the interruption, but keeping his eyes fixed on the witness. “I take it you gentlemen would really like to solve the Claremont murder?”
“I would,” Lieutenant Tragg said, striding toward the witness stand.
Lieutenant Tragg extended a photograph to Perry Mason.
“Show it to the witness,” Mason said.
Lieutenant Tragg moved up to stand by the witness, holding out the photograph.
The witness looked at the photograph, started to shake his head, then extended his hand, took the photograph, looked at it and held it for a moment.
It was quite obvious that his hand was shaking.
“You say you never forget a face you have once seen,” Mason said, “and therefore you are a valuable asset to the Keymont Hotel. Have you ever seen the face of the man in the photograph?”
“If the Court please,” Hamilton Burger said, “this isn’t proper cross-examination. If Counsel wants to make this man his own witness he...”
“He certainly has a right to test the memory of the witness,” Judge Lennox said. “Any witness who makes the unusual statement that he never forgets a face he has once seen is testifying that he has a memory which is far better than average. Therefore, under the circumstances, Counsel is entitled to test that memory. The witness will answer the question.”
“I can’t...”
“Careful,” Mason cautioned sternly. “Remember you’re under oath.”
The witness once more held up the photograph. This time the trembling of his hand was so obvious that he lowered the hand hastily to his lap.
“Well?” Mason asked. “What’s the answer? Yes or no?”
“Yes,” Hoxie said, in an all but inaudible voice.
“When did you see him?”
“Oh, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, “that is asking too much...”
Lieutenant Tragg whirled to glare angrily at the district attorney.
“I’ll withdraw the objection,” Hamilton Burger said.
“When?” Mason asked.
“If that’s really Claremont’s picture, I guess it was the night I left for Mexico.”
“What time during the night?”
“Early in the evening. There was a little trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“He went up to see a tenant. There was a complaint about a quarrel. I phoned up to the tenant in the room. The noise quieted down.”
“Then what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Were there telephone calls from that room?”
“I can’t remember.”
“You have said you never forget a face. Who was the occupant of that room?”
“A regular tenant.”
“Who?”
“George Fayette, the man who was murdered on the third of this month.”
Perry Mason got up, pushed back his chair, and said, “Thank you, Mr. Hoxie,” then to the bewildered court, “Those are all the questions I have.”
“You mean you’re quitting now?” Judge Lennox demanded incredulously.
“Now,” Mason said, and then added with a smile, “and I think if Court will take a thirty-minute adjournment the examination can best be completed by Lieutenant Tragg and in private.”
Judge Lennox hesitated, frowned, then reached for his gavel. “I think I get your point, Mr. Mason. Court will take a thirty-minute recess. The defendants are remanded to custody.”
And Judge Lennox, with a significant glance at Lieutenant Tragg, promptly left the courtroom for his chambers.
Chapter 18
Mason faced Dixie Dayton and Morris Alburg in a witness room opening off the courtroom.
“All right,” he said, “I want some facts. Where can I find Thomas E. Sedgwick?”
Alburg glanced at Dixie Dayton.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t tell anybody—”
“You’re going to tell me,” Mason said. “We’re going to be able to produce him as soon as Lieutenant Tragg finishes with Frank Hoxie.”
“Mr. Mason, do you know what you’re saying?” Dixie Dayton demanded angrily. “This is a cop murder. The police wouldn’t give him a leg to stand on. He wouldn’t have a ghost of a chance. They’d railroad him to the death house so fast that he wouldn’t know what had happened.”
“Why?” Mason asked.
“Why?” Morris Alburg demanded. “What are you talking about? Are you dumb?”
“I’m not dumb and I’m not deaf,” Mason said. “Why would they railroad him to the death house?”
“Because that’s the way the police are. When you kill a cop the police are all on your neck.”