“There is, Your Honor.”
Judge Donahue frowned. “Obviously, Mr. Mason, the district attorney must make certain investigations to find out what happened. He needs to consult certain records. The Court wishes to know what really happened on that shadow box identification. It would certainly seem that the defendant would be equally anxious to have the facts disclosed. Therefore, it seems to the Court the request for a recess is in order.”
Mason said, “I agree with Your Honor in principle but the district attorney has able assistants to handle routine matters. I am entitled to go on with my cross-examination of this witness before she is given time to confer with her friends and think up some new story to tell. A ten-minute recess will give the district attorney ample opportunity to have his assistants get the police records and to confer with Sergeant Holcomb.”
“Very well,” Judge Donahue said, “if the defense wishes to finish the cross-examination of these witnesses, it is entitled to do so. The Court will take a ten-minute recess.”
Paul Drake, pushing his way through the milling spectators, fought to Mason’s side. “Boy, oh boy, are you dishing it out!” he exclaimed. “But they’ve picked up Arthur Sheldon, Perry, so be careful. They may spring him as a witness.”
“Where is he?” Mason asked.
“In the jail. They got him to waive extradition and brought him back. They handled it very secretly. The newspapers are being given the news now.”
Mason said, “I wish he would take the stand. We’re getting somewhere now.”
“And how!” Drake said exultantly. “Gosh, what a wallop, Perry! You’ve knocked them for a loop!”
Chapter number 21
When Court reconvened a nervous, frightened Irene Kilby was on the witness stand and an exasperated District Attorney was quite evidently on the defensive. His manners plainly showed he was thoroughly angered at the police trick, which, by this time, Sergeant Holcomb had apparently confessed.
Mason said, “Now, Miss Kilby, you took the identity of Lois Fenton, you filled her professional engagements, you dressed like her, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You had an agreement with her and you surrendered that agreement to John Callender, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And so far as you know, that was the only copy of that agreement in existence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You wanted to get possession of that agreement, didn’t you?”
“I have already said so. Yes.”
“And you made a search for it?”
“Yes.”
“And isn’t the real reason that you were so anxious to get that agreement because there was a clause in it providing that in the event Lois Fenton’s marriage wasn’t successful, or if at any time she wished to return to fan-dancing, you would step to one side?”
“No, sir.”
“Or words to that effect were in that agreement?”
“No, sir.”
“Think carefully, now,” Mason said. “You’re under oath. And remember, if John Callender had that agreement, sooner or later it is going to show up among the effects of his estate. That is a written agreement. It is signed by Lois Fenton and it is signed by you. Now, just remember that you’re under oath and that a lot more is involved here than your career as a fan-dancer.”
The witness bit her lip.
“Go on,” Mason said. “Let’s try making another answer to that question. Isn’t that the real reason you wanted the agreement?”
The witness shifted her position, glanced helplessly at the district attorney, then met the stern eyes of the judge.
“Well,” Mason said, “isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered, in a low voice.
“Now,” Mason said, “we’re beginning to get somewhere. It was vital to your career to have that agreement, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And as long as John Callender had it, he had you, in a very great measure, in his power, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Now, then,” Mason went on, “let’s go a little farther. This fan which I will show you, the one which has been introduced as People’s Exhibit Number 2 — take a good look at that fan. You will notice the initials ‘L. F.’ on it. You will notice that it was made in St. Louis. You have seen that fan before?”
“Yes.”
“I gave it to you, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night of the murder — that is, you gave it to me on the evening of the sixteenth, and John Callender was murdered shortly after midnight that same night, which makes it the seventeenth.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “Now, what did you do with that fan when I gave it to you? There were two of them, weren’t there?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do with them?”
“I... I gave them...”
“Yes, yes, go on,” Mason said.
“I gave them to John Callender.”
“Now did you give them to John Callender personally, or did you give them to Harry Cogswell to give to John Callender?”
“Harry was to give them to him.”
“As soon as you got possession of those fans in Palomino, you and Harry Cogswell jumped into an automobile and drove just as fast as you could to report to John Callender that I hadn’t found the horse he wanted, that I had found two fans, and in order to support your story you took those two fans to Cogswell, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you gave those fans to Cogswell to deliver to Callender?”
“Yes.”
“And Cogswell arrived at the hotel about one-twenty and went to see Callender, and left the fans?”
“He left one of the fans. I had one.”
Mason said, “For your information, Miss Kilby, and so I won’t take any advantage of you, I will state that I personally saw Harry Cogswell entering Callender’s room at approximately twenty minutes past one on the morning of the seventeenth. Now, is that about the time he went to the room, or do you know?”
“It was right about that time.”
“Where were you?”
“I was outside in the car. He couldn’t find a parking place near the hotel, so I drove around the block and Harry went in to talk with Callender. We probably could have found a parking place if we’d looked around, but we would have had to walk quite a ways, and... well, Callender wanted that fan just as quick as he could get it. He said he had to have it before two o’clock, and he wanted it just as soon as he could possibly get it.”
“Then you had talked with Callender over the telephone?”
“Yes.”
“As soon as I’d given you the fans?”
“Yes.”
“Now,” Mason said, “let’s be frank about this thing, Miss Kilby. You’ve been trying to protect your own interests, but I think you’ve been unnecessarily cautious. Suppose J should tell you that I could prove that when you called on John Callender at 2:23 on the morning of September seventeenth he was already dead, and that when you opened the door you found his body lying on the floor. Would that make you change your testimony about being the one who was in the hotel at that time?”
Irene Kilby looked at him with wide, round eyes, her face showing startled surprise.
Judge Donahue leaned forward and said, “What-was that? Mr. Court Reporter, read me that question. I want to get it.”
The Court Reporter, in a monotone, repeated the question to Judge Donahue.
The Judge frowned, looked at the witness, then at Perry Mason, said to the witness, “Do you understand that question, Miss Kilby?”
“Yes,” she said, hesitantly.
“Can you answer it?”
“I... Yes.”
“You mean that’s your answer?” Mason asked.