“In cash?”
“He said to give you two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“So you went to the safe where Mr. Theilman keeps five hundred dollars for emergencies. You took two hundred and fifty dollars for your own use as expenses and you took two hundred and fifty dollars to pay me. That’s a total of five hundred dollars. Was there any money left in the cash drawer?”
“No.”
“You took it all?”
“Yes.”
“As the prosecution will point out,” Mason said, “immediately after Mr. Theilman’s death you went to the safe and looted the emergency cash drawer of every cent that was in it.”
She was close to tears. “I did only what he told me to do.”
“And what did you do after that — immediately after you emptied the cash drawer?”
“I went to the beauty shop.”
“And were there how long?”
“About five hours.”
“Did you drive to the beauty shop?”
“It’s in the neighborhood of my apartment.”
“Where was your car?”
“Parked on a side street around from the apartment house.”
“When did you actually see your car after you went to the beauty shop?”
“You mean on the fourth?”
“Yes.”
“Not until about five-thirty when I got in it and drove to the airport.”
Mason said, “You’ve got to get on the witness stand and tell that story and when you tell it, you’re hooked... Now look here, Janice, if you were having an affair with Mr. Theilman, I want you to tell me about it and tell me about it now. If you went out there to meet him at that subdivision...”
“Mr. Mason, I tell you, I didn’t. And I know that Mr. Theilman wasn’t there at the time he phoned me. There isn’t a telephone in that office. It was taken out. The nearest telephone is some two miles down the road.”
“Is there any chance, any chance whatever,” Mason asked, “that you could have been deceived by someone who was impersonating Mr. Theilman, someone who told you—”
“Not a chance in the world,” she interrupted. “I know Mr. Theilman’s voice. As a secretary I’m trained to listen to voices on the telephone.”
Mason shook his head. “Janice,” he said, “it’s an impossible combination of circumstances, and the minute you get on the stand and try to make that story stand up they’ll tear you to pieces.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Well,” Mason said, “if that’s your story, that’s your story, but I have a feeling that you’re still holding out on me. I have a feeling that you’re still trying to deceive me and — well, if you are, it’s going to be your funeral, and when I say it’s going to be your funeral I mean it literally.”
She started to cry. “You don’t trust me.”
Mason looked at her thoughtfully and said, “You puzzle me, Janice, but I’m going to present your case to this jury for everything that’s in it.”
“I wish you’d have more confidence in me,” she said.
“I wish I did too, but the physical evidence contradicts your story. You must have gone out there to that subdivision. You must have been there before that thunderstorm started, and you must have driven away after the thunderstorm.”
“I didn’t! I didn’t! I didn’t!” she said.
Mason shrugged his shoulders. “All right, Janice, it’s up to you. But I can’t put you on the stand and let you tell that story. It would be better for you never to take the stand, simply to sit tight and adopt the position that the prosecution has to prove you guilty beyond all reasonable doubt and that they haven’t done it.”
“Please, can’t I do that?” she asked eagerly. “Can’t I keep from going on that witness stand?”
“You’re afraid of the witness stand, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I don’t want them to ask me about — how I felt toward Mr. Theilman — what happened before his marriage. You said I didn’t have to.”
“You don’t have to,” Mason said. “The law gives you that right to remain silent, to force the prosecution to prove you guilty beyond all reasonable doubt without any necessity on your part to prove yourself innocent. But I’m going to tell you something as a matter of practical psychology, Janice. If they make out a case and you don’t go on the witness stand, you’re going to be convicted of first-degree murder.
“Because you’re young and attractive, and because of your loyalty to your employer in the years of association, they’ll probably give you the benefit of the doubt when it comes to fixing the penalty. They’ll give you life imprisonment instead of the gas chamber, but they’ll convict you of first-degree murder.”
“I can’t help it,” she sobbed.
“Dammit!” Mason said. “I’m afraid I can’t either,” and motioned to the officer that the interview was over.
Chapter Thirteen
Back in his office, Mason moodily paced the floor.
Della Street, accustomed to the lawyer’s moods, sat at her secretarial desk and watched him with anxious eyes.
“What will happen if you don’t put her on the stand?”
“Nine chances out of ten she’ll be convicted,” Mason said. “If I put her on the stand, the way things look now, I think it’s a moral certainty she’ll be convicted.
“Apparently, Della, she was in love with Theilman and prior to Theilman’s second marriage they had some week ends together. Janice is trying to cover up the extent of her feeling for Theilman and undoubtedly would like to keep the evidence of those week ends out of the picture. The prosecution’s cross-examination of Janice about those week ends could tear the girl to pieces and wave the remnants in front of the jury — and if they should find she had any of the money that was in that suitcase, even one lone twenty-dollar bill, she’ll be finished.”
“Well, naturally,” Della Street said.
Mason went on, “There’s just too darned much evidence of blackmail here. There was no need to send Theilman two letters. There was no need to send one to his house and one to his office. And if Theilman was going to tell his secretary not to open any letters from A. B. Vidal, then why would he toss the Vidal letter and envelope in the wastebasket where she would be almost certain to notice them?
“And consider the blackmail letter. It simply told Theilman to get the money. It didn’t tell him to get a suitcase and put it in locker FO82.
“Those instructions must have been given over the telephone. If a blackmailer was going to phone his victim, why first send him a letter?
“Janice now indicates this whole blackmail idea may have been an elaborate cover-up so Theilman could get a large sum of cash and put across a business deal.
“The trouble with that is Theilman is dead. He can’t speak for himself. So when Janice starts speaking for him, everyone is going to listen to what she says with downright suspicion. When she tries to make Theilman’s words give her a defense, the jury won’t believe her... And someone got away with a couple of hundred thousand dollars — all in twenties — ready for spending.”
Della Street shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, we’ve got to make it make sense before we’re through with it,” Mason said. “I’ve got to stand up in front of that jury and have a theory of the case that will make sense. What’s more, it’s got to be such a water-proof, airtight theory that this deputy district attorney can’t rip it apart.
“The way it looks now, there wasn’t any blackmailer. Theilman was working some sort of a razzle-dazzle to make it seem he was being blackmailed, but I can’t prove it.
“The minute Janice Wainwright gets on the stand and tells her story as we know that story, she’s sunk, Della... And if they ever find so much as one twenty-dollar bill from that blackmail money in her possession, she’s going to the gas chamber.”