“The way things are right now, I’ve been too credulous,” Trenton said.
“And so,” Dr. Dixon observed sarcastically, “you’ve decided now to go to the other extreme, is that right?”
Trenton thought the matter over for a moment or two, then said, “All right, go ahead. You play ball with me and I’m going to play ball with you. Where’s Linda Carroll? Do you know?”
Dr. Dixon shook his head.
“Have you tried to see her?”
“Quite a few people are trying to see her.”
“Where is she?”
“No one seems to know.”
“Her aunt knows.”
“If her aunt knows, she isn’t telling. She swears she doesn’t know.”
“Linda’s testimony should be able to help me.”
“She’s disappeared.”
“Deliberately?”
“Apparently so.”
Rob Trenton said morosely, “All right, I’ve given you what you wanted. Go ahead and do something. What are you sticking around here for?”
“To answer questions,” Dr. Dixon said smiling.
“Well,” Rob said, getting up out of the chair and walking over to the barred window, “you’ve answered them.”
Chapter 26
A big State Police laboratory truck was parked under the shade of a huge oak on the east side of the river.
Down by the wharf, across the river, a mile away, two uniformed men were moving slowly, studying every inch of the wood.
At length, one of the men said, “Look here, Gerry. See what you make of this.”
He indicated a section of one of the upthrust piles to which mooring lines had been fastened. There was a section of rotted wood above the place where the lines were tied, and a very careful, very close inspection showed that there had been some disturbance in this rotted wood.
Using the tip of his finger, the police officer scraped away this rotted wood until he came to wood of a firmer consistency, then carefully using a knife, he uncovered a round hole.
A field telephone wire ran up to and across the bridge and communicated with the laboratory truck. “Looks like we’ve found a bullet,” Gerry said over the wire. “Better take a look.”
A few moments later, Dr. Dixon, in company with one of the technicians from the laboratory truck, drove across the stage bridge and out to the pier. They examined the hole, then Dr. Dixon nodded.
The men carefully sawed through the pile below the hole. When they removed the section of pile it was split with wedges until a .32 calibre bullet could be seen embedded in a hole which had been neatly split into two parts.
Dr. Dixon handed the bullet to the technician. “Let’s take a look at this,” he said.
They hurried back to the truck. The comparison microscope was mounted so that electric lights furnished an even illumination.
The technician centered a bullet marked “test bullet” on one side of the comparison microscope, and the bullet which had been recovered from the cross-section of pile on the other side. He placed his eyes at the eyepieces of the comparison microscope and began slowly turning a knob which rotated one of the bullets. Abruptly he stopped, turned the knob back a fraction of an inch, then raised his fingers to the screw which adjusted the focus of the microscope.
“Well?” Dr. Dixon asked anxiously.
“They’re the same,” the technician said, “fired from the same gun. Take a look.”
Dr. Dixon settled himself on the stool vacated by the technician, applied his eyes to the microscope, studied the two bullets carefully. “That does it,” he said. “We’ve had to stretch our jurisdiction to get the evidence, but this is it. They were both fired from the same gun.”
“Where does that leave us?” the technician asked.
There was the ghost of a twinkle in Dr. Dixon’s eyes. “That leaves us with three bullets and two empty cartridge cases.”
“Then we’re short one cartridge case.”
“On the contrary,” Dr. Dixon said, “we’re long one bullet.”
Chapter 27
The preliminary hearing of Robert Trenton for the murder of Harvey Richmond was very much of a cut-and-dried procedure so far as the People’s case was concerned.
Having proven the identity of the charred corpse by a chart of the teeth and the testimony of a dentist, Norton Berkeley, the prosecutor, called Dr. Nathan Beaumont to the stand.
Dr. Beaumont, crisply professional, testified that he had been called to the burned houseboat, that he had been shown the charred remains of the deceased by the sheriff; that he had at first decided death was from burning, but in order to make certain, had taken X-ray photographs of the charred body. These X-ray photographs had disclosed the presence of two bullets. He had, therefore, carefully probed for and located the bullets. From their position in the body, he would say that one of them had completely perforated the heart, the other had been immediately above the heart, puncturing a large blood vessel. In the doctor’s opinion, either bullet would have been instantly fatal.
The doctor testified that he had marked these bullets so he could identify them, and had delivered them to the coroner. The two bullets, which he now produced to be introduced in evidence, were the same bullets he had taken from the charred body. He would give it as his opinion that death was produced by gunshot wounds, that in fact he would go further and state death was caused by the two bullets he had produced.
On cross-examination, Staunton Irvine, the attorney representing Rob Trenton, having studied the list of questions which Dr. Dixon had told Trenton to deliver to his attorney, launched a somewhat half-hearted cross-examination.
“Had the investigation stopped when the bullets were found?”
Dr. Beaumont fixed the attorney with a scornful eye and said patronizingly, “I was employed to find the cause of death. I found the cause of death.”
“And then you ceased to investigate, Doctor?”
“Having found that for which I was searching, I ceased searching — which is a natural thing to do.”
“Was there evidence of hemorrhage in the vicinity of the bullets?”
“There was. That is, there was as much evidence as you could expect. The body had been charred, literally cooked.”
“You’re certain that these bullets were the cause of death?”
“As certain as I am that I’m sitting here.”
Dr. Beaumont impatiently glanced at his wristwatch.
“That’s all,” Irvine said.
The doctor was excused. The next witness was a ballistic expert who introduced the .32 automatic into evidence, produced a test bullet which had been fired from it and identified the two bullets as having been fired from that particular .32 automatic.
“Call Merton Ostrander,” the district attorney said.
Merton Ostrander arose and said, “I feel that I can contribute nothing and...”
“Come forward and be sworn,” the district attorney said.
“I prefer not to.”
“Your preferences have nothing whatever to do with it,” the judge said. “Come forward, young man, hold up your right hand and be sworn.”
Ostrander hesitated, then, with quite obvious reluctance, walked down the aisle, opened the swinging gate in the bar which separated the litigants, witnesses and attorneys from the others, and advanced towards the witness-stand, where he was sworn.
“Sit right down there,” the judge said..
“Now then,” District Attorney Berkeley said in a loud, dramatic voice, “I have here, Your Honor, a hostile witness. It’s going to be necessary to ask him some leading questions. He is testifying with obvious reluctance and...”