Mason said, “No, I’m finishing yours.”
“I’m perfectly capable of finishing my own,” the district attorney shouted.
“You try to finish that speech you started,” Mason told him, “and you’ll...”
The coroner’s gavel banged. The sheriff, jumping from his seat, came striding forward.
“We’re going to have order,” the coroner said.
“You can have it from me,” Mason told him, “if you keep the district attorney from making speeches. The facts of the matter are that this young woman, who has been subjected to a nerve strain well calculated to make her hysterical, is suddenly confronted with a gruesome, gory spectacle. Her natural repugnance is interpreted by the district attorney as an indication of guilt. That’s his privilege. But when he starts making a speech about it...”
“I didn’t make a speech about it,” the district attorney said.
“Well,” the coroner observed, “we’re going to have no more speeches made by either side. The coroner is inclined to feel that it’s asking pretty much of any young woman to have a gruesome spectacle like this suddenly thrust in front of her.”
“It was done,” Mason said, “purely as a grandstand, purely for the purpose of capitalizing on Miss Monteith’s overwrought condition.”
“I had no such intention,” the district attorney said.
“What did you have in mind?” the coroner asked.
“I merely wanted to identify the parrot as being the one which had been given to her by her husband on Friday, September second.”
“He can do that,” Mason said, “without throwing all this bloodstained paraphernalia in her lap.”
“I don’t need any suggestions from you,” Sprague said.
The sheriff stepped forward. “If the coroner wants to make any rulings,” he said drily, “I’m here to enforce them.”
“The coroner is going to make a ruling,” Andy Templet announced. “The coroner is going to rule that there’ll be no more personalities exchanged between counsel. The coroner’s also going to rule that there’ll be no more sudden and dramatic production of bloodstained garments, bird cages, or dead birds.”
“But I only wanted to identify the parrot,” the district attorney insisted.
“I heard you the first time,” the coroner told him, “and I hope you heard the coroner. Now, let’s proceed with the inquest.”
“That’s all,” the district attorney said.
“May I ask a question?” Mason inquired.
The coroner nodded assent.
Mason stepped forward and said in a low, kindly voice, “I don’t wish to subject your nerves to any undue strain, Miss Monteith, but I’m going to ask you to try and bring yourself to look at this parrot. I’m going to ask you to study it carefully, and I’m going to ask you whether this is the parrot which your husband brought home to you.”
Helen Monteith made an effort at self-control. She turned and looked down at the lifeless parrot in the cage, then quickly averted her head. “I c-c-can’t,” she said, in a quavering voice, “but the parrot my husband brought home had one claw missing. I think it was from his right foot. My husband said he’d caught the foot in a rat trap, and...”
“This parrot has no claws missing,” Mason said.
“Then it isn’t the same parrot.”
“Just a moment,” Mason said; “I’m going to ask you to make another identification.”
He nodded a signal to Paul Drake, who, in turn, passed the word to an operative who was waiting in the corridor. The operative came through the door carrying a caged parrot.
Amid a silence so tense that the steps of the detective could be heard as he walked down the carpeted aisle, the caged parrot suddenly broke into shrill laughter.
Helen Monteith’s lips quivered. Apparently she was restraining herself from hysteria by a supreme effort.
Mason took the caged parrot from the operative. “Hush, Polly,” he said.
The parrot twisted its head first to one side, then the other, leered about him at the courtroom with twinkling, wicked little eyes; then, as Mason set the cage on the table, the bird hooked its beak on the cross-wires of the cage, and completely circled it, walking over the top, head downward, to return to the perch as though proud of the accomplishment.
“Nice Polly,” Mason said.
The parrot shuffled its feet on the perch.
Helen Monteith turned to regard the parrot. “Why,” she said, “that’s Casanova... The sheriff told me he’d been killed.”
The parrot, tucking its head slightly to one side, said in a low, throaty voice, “Come in and sit down, won’t you? Come in and sit down, take that chair... Squawk... Squawk... Put down that gun, Helen... don’t shoot... Squawk... Squawk... My God, you’ve shot me.”
The spectators stared wide-eyed at the drama of the parrot apparently accusing the witness.
“That’s Casanova!” Helen Monteith exclaimed.
The district attorney said dramatically, “I want the words of this parrot in the record. The parrot is accusing the witness. I want the record to show it.”
Mason regarded the district attorney with a half smile twisting his lips. “Do I understand,” he inquired, “that you’re adopting this parrot as your witness?”
“The parrot has made a statement. I want it in the record,” the district attorney insisted.
“But the parrot hasn’t been sworn as a witness,” Mason observed.
The district attorney appealed to the coroner. “The parrot has made a statement. It was a plainly audible statement.”
“I would like to know,” Mason said, “whether the district attorney is making the parrot his witness.”
“I’m not talking about witnesses,” Sprague countered. “I’m talking about parrots. This parrot made a statement. I want it in the record.”
“If the parrot is to be a witness,” Mason said, “I should have some right of cross-examination.”
“Well,” the coroner ruled, “a parrot can’t be a witness, but the parrot did say something. What those words were can be put in the record for what they’re worth. I think the coroner’s jury understands the situation thoroughly. I never did believe in putting things in a record and then striking them out. When jurors hear things, they’ve heard them, and that’s that. Now, go on with the inquest.”
“I think that’s all the questions I have,” Mason said.
“That’s all,” Sprague said, “except... wait a minute... Miss Monteith, if this parrot is Casanova, then where did the parrot come from that was killed?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“It was in your house.”
“I can’t help that.”
“You must have had something to do with it.”
“I didn’t.”
“But you’re certain this is Casanova?”
“Yes. I can identify him by that claw that’s missing, and by what he said about dropping the gun.”
“Oh, you’ve heard that before, have you?”
“Yes. My husband commented on it when he brought the bird home with him.”
The district attorney said, “Miss Monteith, I’m not satisfied that your violent emotional reaction when this dead parrot was brought before you is purely the result of a nervous condition. Now, I’m going to insist that you look closely at this parrot and...”
Mason got to his feet and said, “You don’t need to look at that parrot, Miss Monteith.”
Sprague flushed and said, “I insist that she does.”
“And I insist that she doesn’t,” Mason said. “Miss Monteith is not going to answer any more questions. She’s been a witness. She’s under a great emotional strain. I think the jury will understand my position as her attorney in announcing that she has now completed her testimony. She has given the district attorney and the coroner an opportunity to ask her all reasonable questions. I am not going to have the examination unduly prolonged.”