“Ordinarily,” Mason said, “there’s nothing to be gained by putting a defendant on the stand in a preliminary hearing but... Hang it, I wish I knew something more about that ringer who took the part of Amelia Corning.”
“She went to the Union Station,” Drake said, “and simply disappeared. She didn’t go out in any taxicab. Therefore she must have gone out in a private car. Someone was there waiting for her, and she probably simply took off her dark blue glasses, got up out of the wheelchair, folded the wheelchair, and walked around just like any other normal human being.”
Abruptly Mason snapped his fingers.
“What?” Drake asked.
“There’s one thing you didn’t try,” Mason said.
“What?”
“Chartered limousines.”
“What do you mean?”
“For a short trip you take a taxicab,” Mason said. “For a long trip you charter a limousine with a driver. Ring up your office, Paul. Get them to cover the different limousine services. See if they received a call on Saturday afternoon after five o’clock to make a trip to Mojave.”
“To Mojave?”
Mason nodded.
“Why Mojave?” Drake asked.
Mason, suddenly excited, got up from his chair and began pacing the floor. “I’ve got an idea, Paul,” he said. “It’s a terrific idea.”
“You mean that there never was any other woman? That your client, Sue Fisher, was the one who was masquerading as Amelia Corning and she removed the make-up and—”
“Get your office on the phone,” Mason interrupted him impatiently. “Have them cover the limousine services.”
Drake put through the telephone call, instructed his office to cover the situation, then hung up the telephone.
“Well,” Della Street said, “I don’t know about you folks but I’m going to eat.”
Drake sighed. “I think I better take aboard some groceries while the moment is opportune. Sad experience teaches me that when these cases take unexpected twists, subsequent developments always result in greasy, soggy hamburger sandwiches in place of well-cooked meals. This time I’m going to fool everyone.”
They gave their orders to the waiter, settled down around the table and after the food was served ate in moody silence.
At twenty minutes past one the telephone rang for Paul Drake.
Drake listened, made notes, said, “Okay, I guess that’s it.”
He hung up the telephone, turned to Mason and said, “Okay, Perry, you’re clairvoyant.”
“Go on,” Mason said, his manner showing suppressed excitement. “Let’s have it.”
“Saturday afternoon, five fifteen, the A to Z Limousine Service received a call to have a limousine at the garage entrance at the Union Depot. They were instructed to have the limousine full of gasoline and be ready to make a trip. The driver went there as per instructions and picked up a woman in a wheelchair — a woman who had dark blue glasses. She gave him keys to some lockers at the depot. He went there and picked up her bags and suitcases, put them in the car, and then drove her to Mojave.”
Mason looked at his watch, his eyes narrowed. “All right,” he said, “let’s get back to the courtroom. I’m going to have to do a little cross-examination and then we may know more than we do now.”
“Oh, for the love of Mike,” Drake said wearily, “quit butting your head against a brick wall, Perry. This is a case where there’s only one thing for you to do. Get up the minute court opens and suggest to the judge that while you think your client has a good defense, in view of the evidence that has been received there certainly is enough evidence to warrant binding the defendant over, and ask the court to make the order. In that way you’ll steal some of Hamilton Burger’s thunder and keep him from standing up and making an argument that will be directed primarily to the newspapers.
“That’s all Burger wants. Just an opportunity to stand up and speak his piece. He’ll argue about this young woman with her mask of innocence. He’ll talk about the satanic character that lurks underneath. He’ll thunder denunciations. He’ll intimate that there is still another body waiting to be discovered, and he’ll have his picture in the paper.
“After all, Perry, this thing... this limousine business doesn’t really mean anything. We all know that there was a ringer brought in to take the part of Amelia Corning on Saturday and what more natural than that she should have been brought in from Mojave. I will admit my face is a little red because I didn’t think of that limousine business but the police didn’t think of it either. This driver of the limousine had never been interrogated before.”
Mason didn’t waste time answering Drake. He called the waiter, signed the check, and said, “Come on, let’s get up to the courthouse. We’ve got work to do.”
Chapter 13
Back in the courtroom Mason, waiting for Judge Elmer to return to the bench, said suddenly, “Paul, I want to find out who Endicott Campbell’s female friends are.”
“He doesn’t have any,” Drake said.
“Don’t tell me that,” Mason told him. “Of course the guy has women friends. His wife left him two years ago and—”
“He had one for a while,” Drake said. “That was before Susan Fisher came to the office. This woman was his secretary. She was a married woman. He had quite a crush on her and apparently it was reciprocated. At least, her husband thought so. He made quite a stink about it, threatened to shoot Campbell, and got the woman out of the office.”
“They’re not seeing each other now?”
“No.”
“He doesn’t call on any women?”
“Not since we’ve been shadowing him, Perry.”
“Then he’s wise to the fact that he’s being shadowed. No telephone calls? No women corning to the house?”
“Only one woman has called at the house,” Drake said, “and that’s a friend of Elizabeth Dow, the governess.”
“The fact that she’s a friend of the governess doesn’t keep her from also being a friend of Endicott Campbell,” Mason said.
“Not this one,” Drake said. “Here, I’ll give you the dope on it.” He took a notebook from his pocket, opened it, said, “Cindy Hastings, 1536 Rentner Road. That’s the address of the Tulane Apartments. She’s in 348. A nurse. Built something like Elizabeth Dow, the governess, only a considerably older woman. Angular. English. Flat-footed. Long-legged. Flat-chested. Horse-faced...”
“That’s enough,” Mason said. “Cross her out, but it’s a nice lead. What other friends does the governess have? People about her own age?”
“Apparently none,” Drake said. “At least we’ve been unable to uncover any. I have an idea they’re probably wise to the fact that we have shadows on them. They haven’t given us any inkling that they know but they must have some idea and they’re certainly being circumspect. They—”
A policewoman brought Susan Fisher into the court. As she seated herself behind Mason’s chair she leaned over towards the lawyer and said, “You think I’ve let you down, don’t you, Mr. Mason?”
“Frankly,” Mason said, “I don’t know.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing, Mr. Mason. That testimony is a mass of lies. I never knew Ken Lowry in his lifetime. I never had him in that automobile. I have told you the exact truth at all times I—”
Judge Elmer entered from his chambers and the bailiff pounded his gavel to bring the court to order.
Hamilton Burger seated himself at the prosecution’s table, permitted a swift glance of triumph at Mason, then lowered his eyes to some papers on the desk.