The columnist had pointed out that Perry Mason undoubtedly had some ace up his sleeve, but also pointed out that the lawyer couldn’t be certain whether or not the district attorney would be able to trump his ace. Mason, therefore, in order to emphasize the one play that he had, was deliberately underplaying the rest of the case.
If the lawyer had been completely without any high cards of his own, the columnist pointed out, he would necessarily have had to go into court objecting to this question and that question, moving to strike out answers as not being responsive, engaging in all of the technicalities of a person putting up a last-ditch legal fight.
The columnist went on to point out that the house had been used as a veritable shooting gallery. The police had conducted experiments, the district attorney had conducted experiments, and there even were rumors that Perry Mason, as attorney for the defence, presumably checking some aspect of the case, had purchased a box of blank cartridges. There was, of course, no direct evidence as to what he had done with them, but readers could put two and two together.
The defence attorney’s ace-in-the-hole was probably no part of his own case but would depend upon some masterly cross-examination of a witness for the prosecution. The last witness for the prosecution was Ezekiel Elkins, and Mason had shrewdly jockeyed the district attorney into such a position that Elkins had concluded his testimony on direct examination just as court had adjourned, so that Perry Mason would be able to start his spectacular cross-examination in the morning.
There was, of course, the columnist pointed out, the possibility that Mason intended to recall one of the prosecution’s witnesses for further cross-examination, a strategy which had been followed quite frequently by the defence attorney. But in view of the fact that he had made virtually no objections and offered virtually no cross-examination, the possibility that be would recall a witness was, in the opinion of veteran courthouse attachés, rather unlikely.
In any event, it was quite probable that the morning session of the court would be jam packed with fireworks.
The Court went through the usual preliminary incidents, calling court to order, having the attorneys stipulate that the jurors were all present, that the defendant was in court. Then Judge Sedgwick glanced at the crowded courtroom. “The Court wishes to remind the spectators,” he said, “that this is a court of justice. It is not a theatre. The Court will tolerate no disturbances, no indication of public feeling in this matter. The Court will clear the courtroom if there is any violation of decorum.
“Now then, Mr. Mason, you may proceed with the cross-examination of the witness, Ezekiel Elkins. Mr. Elkins, you will please resume your position on the stand.”
Elkins settled down in the witness chair, cleared his throat, folded his hands and looked at Mason with calm, cold eyes. He had, of course, read the papers, knew what to expect, and gave every outward indication of being prepared for it.
Mason arose to cross-examine the witness.
“You are, or were, in a sense, a business partner of the decedent, George C. Lutts?”
“No.”
“You were on the board of directors of the Sylvan Glade Development Company?”
“Yes.”
“You still are?”
“Yes.”
“You attended the meeting of the directors on the third of June of this year?”
“Yes.”
“At that meeting Mr. Lutts announced that he had sold his holdings in the corporation?”
“Yes.”
“There had been an agreement among the directors that if anyone should desire to dispose of his holdings in the company, he would first give the other directors an opportunity to buy the stock?”
“Yes.”
“That agreement had not been reduced to writing?”
“No.”
“You resented the fact that Mr. Lutts had sold his stock in violation of that agreement?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you say at the directors’ meeting that you thought it was a breach of the agreement?”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t resent it?”
“No.”
Mason smiled at the witness. “You finished giving your direct testimony yesterday, Mr. Elkins.”
“Yes.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Oh, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, “this is not proper cross-examination. It’s incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It’s an attempt to pry into the private affairs of the witness.”
“Sustained,” Judge Sedgwick snapped.
“Were you closeted with the district attorney for more than two hours last night?” Mason asked.
Sedgwick glanced at the district attorney.
“Your Honor, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, “it’s incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It’s not proper cross-examination. If counsel is interested, I will admit that I talked with Mr. Elkins last night. He had already given his direct testimony, and I wanted certain matters cleared up. There’s nothing illegal about a district attorney talking with his own witness.”
Mason said, “I submit, Your Honor, that the objection by the district attorney was not made in good faith but was simply a framework which enabled him to make the statement he did for the purpose of influencing the jury.”
“I resent that,” Hamilton Burger said.
“The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question. Counsel will refrain from personalities,” Judge Sedgwick said.
“What was the question?” the witness asked.
The court reporter read the question, “Were you closeted with the district attorney for more than two hours last night?”
“No,” Elkins said.
Mason smiled, “You mean you weren’t with him for as long as two hours?”
“No.”
“You were with him for two hours?”
“Yes.”
“More than that?”
“Yes.”
“As much as three hours?”
“Yes.”
“More than three hours?”
“No.”
Then Mason said, now sure of his ground, “What did you mean by saying that you weren’t closeted with the district attorney last night?”
“We weren’t in a closet,” Elkins said.
A ripple of laughter in the courtroom was silenced by the frowning of the judge.
“I see,” Mason said. “Now, at the session with the district attorney which took place in his office rather than in a closet, you discussed your cross-examination and what you would say on the witness stand.”
The witness fidgeted.
Hamilton Burger, on his feet, said, “I certainly discussed his position as a witness and told him that he could expect, a most grueling, desperate, last-ditch—”
“That will do, Mr. District Attorney. Sit down,” Judge Sedgwick said. “The witness is being interrogated, not the district attorney.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“We talked about many things,” Elkins said.
“And isn’t it a fact,” Mason went on, “that your answers of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to my questions are because the district attorney warned you, in substance, that you might get into trouble if you volunteered any information or gave full answers; didn’t he say to you in effect that the way to confuse Perry Mason would be to listen to the questions with the utmost care and then answer them in the fewest possible words — answer yes or no wherever it was possible to do so?”
Elkins, for the first time, lowered his eyes. He cleared his throat, glanced at the district attorney.
Judge Sedgwick was also looking at the district attorney.
Hamilton Burger started to get to his feet, then changed his mind and remained seated.
“Can’t you answer that question?” Mason asked.
“Well, he did say something like that,” Elkins admitted.