“It does, in view of the answers the witness has been giving to these questions,” Perry Mason said. “This is a witness who is an attorney. I have a right to impeach his testimony by showing the condition of his eyesight at the time in question. This witness has admitted that he needed glasses and has also admitted that the glasses he put on were insufficient and had been insufficient for years. I also have a right to show his bias and interest, as developed by his evasive answers.”
“I think,” Judge Markham said, “I’ll permit him to answer the question. Who telephoned the oculist, Mr. Duncan, if you know.” Duncan hesitated.
“Go on,” Mason said, “answer the question.”
In a voice which was barely audible, Duncan said, “Mr. Blaine.”
“The deputy district attorney,” Mason inquired, “who has just finished making such a vociferous objection that my question was incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”
A roar of laughter swept the courtroom. Judge Markham frowned, then permitted himself a halfsmile. “That will do, Counselor,” he said sternly, then, looking at the clock, “It has approached the hour of adjournment. I think we have made very good progress for today. Court will adjourn until tomorrow. The Court is going to remand the jury to the custody of the sheriff, who will keep them in his charge and permit no person to approach them or address them, nor will he address them himself, except upon matters not connected in any way with the case. Court is adjourned until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 20
MASON, pacing back and forth across his office, looked frowningly at Della Street. The indirect lights failed to soften the scowl lines which were furrowed across the lawyer’s forehead. “Damn it, Della,” he said, “the thing doesn’t click.”
“Why doesn’t it click?”
“I can’t understand what’s wrong with Mrs. Kent.”
“You haven’t heard anything from her?”
“Not a thing. You’re certain that Pritchard met her?”
“Absolutely. He was making a rush play for me, but he dropped me like a hot potato when I told him about Mrs. Kent’s money.”
“Good looking?”
“I’ll say.”
“Make your heart go pittypat?” he asked.
“Not mine, but he’s a swell looker. He looks like a Venus de Hollywood.”
“Hair?”
“Wonderful, dark rich brown, beautifully marcelled. Lights in it. And they match his eyes. Boyish face, without a line in it. A little trick mustache. He wears his clothes nicely and his lips are fascinating, particularly when he talks. You can see them forming every word so distinctly. And when he dances, he makes you feel like thistledown.”
“She seemed to be falling?”
“Falling is right. She was looking at him with her heart in her eyes.”
“How the devil can a woman get her heart in her eyes?”
“Want me to show you?” she challenged. He took a quick step toward her. Her eyes studied his face appraisingly, “Strictly for the sake of the business?” she added.
His arm was reaching for her when knuckles made a gentle tapping motion on the corridor door. Mason froze into rigid immobility. The knock was repeated. “Bet you five bucks that’s Doris Sully Kent,” he said.
Della Street started for the law library. “I knew something would happen,” she remarked, jerking the door open. “Be sure to switch on the loud speaker, Chief. I’ve got pencils and notebook in there.” She closed the door behind her with a slam.
Mason stepped to the corridor door. Doris Sully Kent smiled up at him. “I knew I’d find you here, Mr. Mason.”
“Come in,” he invited.
She entered the room, smiled sweetly at him, placed herself in a chair so that her blonde hair showed to advantage against the black leather. “Working hard?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted you, but I thought you might be interested.”
“You have a lawyer?”
“Not me. Not now.”
“Well?” he asked.
She extended a glove forefinger and traced little curving lines along the skirt where it was stretched tightly over her leg. Her eyes followed the moving tip of her forefinger. While she spoke she did not once glance at him. “I’ve been thinking things over. I’m willing to admit I started that Santa Barbara action because I knew Pete was going to get married again, and I didn’t see any reason why I should let him dissipate his property on some golddigger. I understand the woman is a nurse. Think of it, Peter Kent marrying a nurse!”
“What’s wrong with a nurse?” Mason asked.
“Everything,” she replied, “so far as Peter Kent is concerned. She has to work for a living.”
“And a mighty fine thing,” Mason said. “I like women who work for a living.”
“It isn’t that. It’s not that I’m snobbish. It’s the fact that she’s after Peter Kent’s money.”
“I don’t agree with you.”
“We don’t need to discuss it, do we?”
“You brought it up.”
“Well, I was just trying to explain to you why I had a change of heart.”
“Do I understand you’re trying to tell me you’ve experienced a change of heart?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I suddenly decided that, even if Peter is a little off mentally, and wants to squander his money, I shouldn’t stop him. If that’s what it takes to make him happy, I want him to be happy.”
“So what?” Mason asked skeptically.
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” she said wearily, “you think I’m coldblooded and mercenary. I do wish I could do something to convince you I wasn’t. I value your good opinion very much indeed, Mr. Mason; more, perhaps, than you realize. I have met lots of attorneys, but I have never met anyone who seemed to be as straightforward, as vigorous, and as… as ruggedly honest as you are. And I could see you didn’t like me. Men usually like me. I want very much to have you like me.”
Mason opened his cigarette case, extended it to her. She took a cigarette, suddenly lifted her eyes to his, smiled and said, “Say ‘thank you.’“
“Thank you,” Mason said, tonelessly. He gave her a light, then transferred the flaming match to the tip of his own cigarette and regarded her quizzically through a cloud of cigarette smoke. “Well?”
“The district attorney wants to put me on the witness stand.”
“To prove what?”
“To prove that Peter tried to kill me with a carving knife.”
“Does he think he can use your testimony?”
“He said, to use his exact words, ‘Somewhere along the line Mason will open the door so I can use you on rebuttal.’“
“Anything else?”
“You’re not making it particularly easy for me.”
“If I knew just what you had in mind,” he told her, “I might make it easier.”
“I want to let Peter have his divorce.”
“Why?”
“Because I think that’s the best thing for him.”
“And just how do you propose to go about it?” he asked.
“I want to dismiss all of my actions. That would clear everything up. The final decree has already been granted, and, if I dismiss everything, that would give Peter a clean slate, wouldn’t it?”
Mason didn’t answer her question directly but said, “Just how much did you expect in return?”
“What made you think I expected anything?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m not mercenary. I don’t want any of Peter’s money, but I’m untrained, I haven’t any profession, I haven’t any skill nor any calling. I can’t even run a typewriter or take shorthand.”
“How much?” he asked.
Some swift emotion flamed in her eyes, then died. “How much would you suggest?” she asked demurely.
“I couldn’t make any suggestion.”
“You could suggest what Peter would be willing to pay, couldn’t you?”
“No.”
“I’d take two hundred thousand dollars in cash. That would enable me to keep on living in the style to which Peter accustomed me.”