Mason abruptly hung up the telephone.
“Mabel Norge left the restaurant hurriedly,” Della Street reported.
“That’s fine,” Mason said, grinning. “If she resorts to flight, it will look like the devil.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Della Street asked.
“If she doesn’t, Vandling will get her,” Mason said. “He’ll think it over for ten or fifteen minutes, then he’ll be afraid not to act. He’ll get hold of the authorities here and tell them to pick up Mabel Norge and question her as a material witness.”
“And what will we be doing?” Della Street asked.
“We,” Mason told her, “will be driving to Los Angeles in order to catch a night plane back to Fresno so we can be on hand in the morning and blow the lid off in case Vandling wants any more action in court.”
Chapter 14
By the time court convened at 10:00 A.M. word had passed around that the case of the People of the State of California versus Mynna Davenport was no ordinary preliminary and the courtroom was jammed.
Talbert Vandling grinned at Mason as Mason, accompanied by Paul Drake and Della Street, entered the courtroom.
“Thanks for the tip on Mabel Norge.”
“Did you get her?”
“We nailed her.”
“What’s her story?” Mason asked.
“She hasn’t any.”
“What do you mean?”
“She came here in company with a San Bernardino deputy sheriff. By the time she arrived here she’d decided she wasn’t going to talk. She’s retained an attorney here who advises her to keep quiet.”
“Serve a subpoena on her?” Mason asked.
“Sure.”
“How about Los Angeles?”
Vandling smiled and shook his head. “They’re being very, very coy. They want us to dispose of the matter up here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go ahead for a while. I can always dismiss. And then, of course, I may have something up my sleeve that I don’t care to disclose to you at the moment since we’re in adversary positions.”
“Why should we be?” Mason asked.
“Because you’re attorney for the defense and I’m attorney for the prosecution.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to convict the murderer of Ed Davenport.”
“So do I.”
“There may be a difference of opinion. You think your client is innocent.”
“Don’t you?”
“Hell, no.”
Mason said, “Give me a little elbow room and I’ll disclose some facts that will startle you.”
“You can have all the elbow room you want.” Vandling said, “as long as you’re disclosing facts.”
“Thanks.”
“Now wait a minute,” Vandling said. “You wouldn’t try to be slipping one over on me, would you?”
Mason shook his head. “I’m trying to get Myrna Davenport acquitted but I want to apprehend the murderer of Ed Davenport.”
Vandling said, “The district attorney in Los Angeles gave me quite a briefing about you. He told me you were tricky, shrewd, diabolically clever, and while he didn’t say in so many words that you were crooked he intimated that you’d cut your grandmother’s throat in order to obtain an advantage for a client.”
“Why not?” Mason asked, grinning. “After all, I’m supposed to represent my clients. Then again you’re not my grandmother.”
Vandling said, “If I can convict your client of this murder, Mason, and I think she’s guilty, I’m going to do it. If you can get her released you’re going to do it. Those things are understood. Otherwise I’m willing to ride along with you.”
Mason said, “I’m accepting your assurance that you don’t want to convict her unless she’s guilty.”
“I don’t.”
“How about riding along and doing some exploring to find out who is guilty?”
“That’s okay by me,” Vandling said. “I told you I was going to take a chance on you, Mason. I’ll co-operate.”
“Here we go,” Mason said. “Here comes the judge.”
Judge Siler entered the courtroom, the bailiff pounded the court to order, the spectators were seated and Mason, leaning across to Vandling, said. “Call Mabel Norge as your next witness. See what she has to say.”
“Will she jerk the rug out from under me?”
The rug’s already been jerked out from under you,” Mason told him. “You’re in the air. It’s just a question of what you fall on that’s going to count.”
“I’d like to fall on my feet.” Vandling said.
“Try calling Mabel Norge.”
Vandling regarded Mason for a moment, then said, “If the Court please, I want to recall Dr. Renault, but I would like to interrupt his testimony for a moment to call another witness.”
“No objection on the part of the defense,” Mason said
Judge Siler merely nodded.
“Call Mabel Norge,” Vandling said.
Mabel Norge reluctantly arose, bent over for a few final words with an attorney who was seated next to her, then marched up to the witness stand and was sworn.
“You were employed by Edward Davenport during his lifetime?” Vandling asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“When did you see him last?”
“On the eleventh.”
“That was Sunday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And where did you see him?”
“In Paradise.”
“And after that what happened?”
“Mr. Davenport was driving to Los Angeles. He left Paradise around noon and intended to drive as far as Fresno that evening.”
“Did Mr. Davenport leave you any final instructions when he left?”
“I don’t know what you mean by final instructions,” she said, hurrying her speech as an indication she was trying to get her story in before she was stopped either by Court or counsel. “Mr. Davenport had left me instructions that in the event of his death I was to see that the contents of an envelope were delivered to the authorities. He told me that his wife was trying to poison him and—”
“Just a minute,” Judge Siler said.
“Yes,” Vandling observed. “What Mr. Davenport may have told you would not be binding on the defendant, unless, of course, the defendant was present at the time.”
“We have no objection,” Mason said. “Let’s get the conversation into the record.”
“For what purpose?” Judge Siler said. “It would be hearsay.”
“I’m not certain,” Mason said, “but that it might come within one of the exceptions to the rule of hearsay evidence. I have no objection.”
Judge Siler hesitated.
“Well,” Vandling said, “I’ll get at it this way, Your Honor. Prior to the last time you saw Mr. Davenport, had he given you an envelope?”
“He had. Yes, sir.”
“And what did you do with that envelope?”
“I placed it in a lockbox in my desk.”
“And did Mr. Davenport give you any instructions in connection with that envelope?”
“Yes, sir. He said that his wife was trying to poison him and that in the event of his death I was to turn this envelope over to the authorities, that his wife had poisoned her cousin and that”
“Now certainly,” Judge Siler said, “this is hearsay.”
“It might be part of the res gestae,” Mason said.