The first witness for the prosecution was Barney Meister. After being sworn in and establishing that he was Runyon City’s chief of police, he testified that about two-thirty a.m. the previous Monday morning he had been awakened at home by a call from police headquarters informing him that there had been a shooting at the old Runyon place at Rexford Bay. He explained that he had left standing instructions with the desk to inform him of important police matters, no matter what time it was.
“The desk man didn’t have any details,” he added. “He didn’t know who was shot and how bad, only that a woman had phoned in the report. I guess he assumed the matter should be classified as important more because of the address than the occurrence.”
Marshall didn’t consider the comment very funny, but there was a titter from the audience. Judge Gandy rapped his gavel.
The chief went on to explain that a police car had come by his home a few minutes later to drive him to the scene. There he had found Bruce Case lying dead of a gunshot wound, half in and half out of his wife’s bedroom door. He related what Betty had told him to how the shooting occurred.
There was no objection from Henry Quillan to this as hearsay. Marshall guessed that the lawyer was glad to have it in the record, as it might save him from putting Betty on the stand at all, in case he decided not to.
Meister continued by describing his examination of the premises, with the help of Patrolman Nat Thorpe, his taking of the cut-out portion of the screen and his later visit after daylight to find the fragment of rope tied to the air-vent pipe on the roof. He went on to tell of receiving the crime lab report the next day that the screen had been cut from the inside.
“Objection,” Quillan said. “Hearsay.”
The district attorney said, “Your Honor, we intend to put Harold Farroway of the state police crime lab on the stand later, at which time the contents of this report will be verified by the man who made it. We can temporarily dismiss this witness and put Farroway on now, if you wish, but to save time I’d like to continue with the stipulation that we’ll establish the report later.”
The judge glanced at Quillan, who said, “All right, Your Honor, exception in the event the prosecution fails to establish it.”
“Go ahead,” the judge said to Ross.
“Continue your story, Chief,” Ross said.
Meister had little left to tell. He described his return to Betty’s home after reading the lab report and his finding of the coil of rope in the garage.
“A later lab examination showed the fragment found on the roof had been cut from this coil,” he concluded.
“Same exception, Your Honor,” Quillan said.
Arnold Ross turned the witness over for cross-examination.
Rising to his feet, the defense attorney approached the witness stand. “Chief Meister, did you make any attempt to establish the ownership of the coil of rope you found in the garage?”
Meister looked puzzled. “It was in the Case garage. It must have belonged to Mr. Case.”
“I’m not asking for an assumption. Did you trace down where it had been sold and to whom?”
“Of course not. Why should I?”
“Then you really don’t know if it belonged to anyone living in the Case home, do you?”
“I know it was in their garage.”
“But you have no idea who put it there, or when. Is that right?”
“I suppose.”
Quillan said, “You have testified that you searched the inside of the house and the garage. Did you also make a search of the grounds at any time?”
Meister looked puzzled. “For what?”
“For clues. Did you, for example, look behind any of the shrubbery which hugs all four sides of the house?”
“No.”
“Then isn’t it quite possible that a length of rope dropped from the roof might have fallen behind some of that shrubbery and have been lying there all day Monday?”
“Objection,” Arnold Ross said. “He’s asking witness for a conclusion.”
“I withdraw the question,” Quillan said before the judge could rule. “Did you ask anyone in the Case household if they had found a length of rope behind some shrubbery, coiled it up and put it in the garage?”
“Objection!” Ross called.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked. “It seems a reasonable enough question to me.”
Ross subsided and Quillan repeated the question. “No,” Barney Meister said.
“That’s all,” the defense attorney said. “You may step down.”
Chapter XII
The next witness was Harold Farroway of the state police crime lab. When Arnold Ross started to ask him questions designed to establish him as an expert, Henry Quillan interrupted.
“I know Mr. Farroway’s work well, Your Honor. To save time, the defense will stipulate that he is expert in his field.”
Farroway had blown-up microscopic photographs with him. He used them to demonstrate that the screen had been cut from inside and that the rope fragment from the roof came from the coil of rope found in the garage. The photographs, plus his explanations of them, were very convincing.
When the district attorney turned him over for cross-examination, Quillan rose to his feet again.
“Mr. Farroway,” he said. “Were you able to establish by laboratory examination who cut this screen and who tied the rope to the air vent?”
“Of course not,” Farroway said.
“It might, then, have been anyone?”
“Insofar as I know.”
“Even the cat burglar?”
“I object,” the D.A. said. “Counsel is asking for a conclusion.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
“That’s all,” Quillan told the witness.
The prosecution never wants to discharge all its ammunition at a preliminary hearing. Normally it presents only as much evidence as it thinks necessary to convince the judge the accused should be held for the grand jury; if that doesn’t work, it reluctantly unlimbers more guns. Arnold Ross decided to try on the basis of what he had shown so far.
“I have no more witnesses at this time,” he announced.
“Does the defense wish to present any witnesses?” Judge Gandy asked.
“Not at this moment, Your Honor,” Quillan said. “But I would like to present some arguments to the court.”
“All right,” the judge said. “Will both counsels please step forward?”
Gandy, like most judges, preferred to conduct hearings informally, his main purpose being to get both sides’ stories as quickly as possible. A three-way conference between the judge and the two attorneys often eliminated the necessity for much long-winded testimony.
Since all three spoke in conversational tones, they couldn’t be heard by most people in the courtroom. The press section was right next to the rail, though, only a dozen feet from the bench. Marshall could hear the entire exchange clearly.
The district attorney said, “Your Honor, we’ve shown beyond any doubt that the evidence of a prowler being at the Case home the night of the shooting was deliberately planted. This could have been done for no other purpose than to cover up deliberate murder.”
Henry Quillan said, “Counsel’s interpretation of the evidence is just one man’s opinion. Nobody knows just how this cat burglar operates, because he doesn’t leave many clues. He has cut screens before. Have any of them been examined by the state police lab to see from which side they were cut?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous,” the D.A. said.
“Why? You’ve interpreted the evidence your way. Now let me interpret it my way. I suggest that the cat burglar prepares for alternate escape routes before he enters a house. In this case, I suggest he hung a rope before that hall window, just in case he had to use it in an emergency, then entered the house by some other means. I suggest that when the shot alarmed him, he ran to this window, cut the screen in order to get out, not in, and scurried up the rope to the roof. In his haste he cut the rope, meaning to take it with him, but it slipped from his fingers and slid to the ground behind the shrubbery in front of the house. Mrs. Case has a ten-year-old son. It’s quite conceivable that he found the rope the next morning, coiled it up and put it in the garage.”