“Why don’t you place the time as being later than noon?” the coroner asked.
“Those are the little things,” Sergeant Holcomb said, with very evident pride, “which a trained investigator notices, and which others don’t. Now, the body was clothed in a light sweater and slacks. From the observations which I made on the temperature in that cabin, I found that it varies quite sharply. The shade is such that the sun doesn’t get on the roof good until after eleven o’clock. Thereafter it heats up very rapidly until about four o’clock, when once more shade strikes the roof, and it cools off quite rapidly thereafter, becoming cold at night.
“Now, there was a fire laid in the fireplace. That fire hadn’t been lit, which shows that it wasn’t late enough in the evening for it to have become cold. From noon until around four in the afternoon, it would have been too hot for a person to have been comfortable in a sweater. The records show that the fifth, sixth and seventh were three very warm days — that is, it was warm during the daytime. Up there at that elevation it cooled off quite rapidly at night. It was necessary to have a fire in the evening, in order to keep from being uncomfortably cool. That cabin, you understand, is just a mountain cabin, rather light in construction, and not insulated against conditions of temperature, as a house in the city would be.”
“I see,” the coroner remarked approvingly. “Then you feel that Mr. Sabin must have returned and had his second breakfast — or lunch — before the sun got on the roof?”
“That’s right.”
“I think that covers the situation very comprehensively,” the coroner said.
“May I ask a question or two?” Mason inquired.
“Certainly.”
“How do you know,” Mason asked, “that Mr. Sabin didn’t meet his death, say, for instance, on Wednesday, the seventh, instead of on the sixth?”
“Partially, from the condition of the body,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “The body had been there at least six days. Probably, seven. In the heat and closeness of the room, decomposition had been quite rapid. Moreover, there’s another reason. The decedent had had a breakfast of bacon and eggs. Mr. Sabin was an enthusiastic fisherman. He went up to the cabin for the purpose of being there on the opening morning of fishing season. It is inconceivable that he would have gone fishing on that first morning and not caught at least some fish. If he had caught them, there would have been evidences that he’d eaten them for breakfast the next morning instead of bacon and eggs. There were no remains of fish anywhere in the garbage pail, nor in the garbage pit in the back of the house, to which the contents of the garbage pail were transferred each day.”
And Sergeant Holcomb smiled at the jury, as much as to say, “That shows how easy it is to avoid a lawyer’s trap.”
“Very well,” Mason said, “Let’s look at it from another angle. The fire was laid in the fireplace, but hadn’t been lit, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Now, it’s rather chilly there in the mornings?”
“Quite chilly.”
“And at night?”
“Yes.”
“Now, according to your theory, the alarm went off at five-thirty, and Mr. Sabin got up to go fishing, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“And cooked himself rather a sketchy breakfast?”
“A hasty breakfast, you could call it,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “When a person gets up at five-thirty in the morning on the opening day of the season, he’s anxious to get out and get the fish.”
“I see,” Mason said. “Now, when Mr. Sabin came back from his fishing trip, he was in very much of a hurry to get something to eat. We may assume that the first thing he did when he entered the house, and immediately after removing his boots, was to get himself something to eat. Next in order of importance would have been washing the fish and putting them in the icebox. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Yet, according to your theory,” Mason said, “after he got back, he took enough time to lay the fire in the fireplace, all ready for lighting, before he even took care of his fish.”
Sergeant Holcomb’s face clouded for a moment, then he said, “No, he must have done that the night before.” Having thought a minute, he added, triumphantly, “Of course, he did it the night before. He didn’t have any occasion for a fire in the morning: it was cold when he got up, but he went right out in the kitchen and cooked his breakfast, and then went out fishing.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “But he had reason for a fire the night before, I believe.”
“What do you mean?”
“In other words,” Mason said, “we know that he was at the cabin at four o’clock on the afternoon of Monday, the fifth. We can surmise that he remained at the cabin until shortly before ten o’clock in the evening, when he went out to place a phone call. If it was cold Monday evening, why didn’t he light a fire?”
“He did,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “He must have. There’s no evidence to show that he didn’t.”
“Exactly,” Mason went on. “But when the body was found, a fresh fire was laid in the fireplace. Now, according to your theory, he either laid that fire Monday night, in a grate that had just been used — or else he laid it the next day, after he got back from fishing. That is, he took time to lay the fire before he even took care of his fish. Does that seem logical to you?”
Sergeant Holcomb hesitated a moment, then said, “Well, that’s one of those little things. That doesn’t cut so much ice. Lots of times you’ll find little things which are more or less inconsistent with the general interpretation of evidence.”
“I see,” Mason said. “And when you encounter such little things, what do you do, Sergeant?”
“You just ignore ’em,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
“And how many such little things have you ignored in reaching your conclusion that Fremont C. Sabin was murdered by Helen Monteith?”
“That’s the only one,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
“Very well, let’s look at the evidence from a slightly different angle. Take the alarm clock, for instance. The alarm was run down, was it not?”
“Yes.”
“And where was this alarm clock placed?”
“On the shelf by the bed — or rather on a little table by the bed.”
“Quite close to the sleeper?”
“Yes.”
“Within easy reaching distance?”
“Yes.”
“And, by the way,” Mason said, “the bed was made, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“In other words, then, after getting up in the morning, at five-thirty, to go fishing, Mr. Sabin stopped long enough to lay a fire in the fireplace, long enough to make his bed, long enough to wash his breakfast dishes?”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Well, it wouldn’t take a man so very long to make his bed.”
“By the way,” Mason inquired, “did you notice whether there were clean sheets on the bed?”
“Yes, there were.”
“Then, he not only must have made the bed, but must have changed the sheets. Did you find the soiled linen anywhere in the cabin, Sergeant?”
“I don’t remember,” Sergeant Holcomb said.
“There are no laundry facilities there. The soiled laundry is taken down in Mr. Sabin’s car and laundered in the city, and returned to the cabin from time to time?”