The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

Chapter 20

Mason caught Mae Bagley just outside the Grand Jury anteroom. He nodded his head with a slight inclination toward a bend in the corridor and Mae Bagley followed him around the corner.

“Who’s in there?” Mason asked.

“Just about everybody.”

“Can you remember names?”

She smiled. “I got all the names — that’s why I’m out here waiting for you. I thought you’d like to know before you went in.”

“Good girl!”

She said, “There’s a man by the name of Clovis who I think has to testify about some numbers on some bills. He’s a banker.”

“I know him.”

“And Sam Dixon— You know him all right. And Tom Folsom, and the woman Carlotta Tipton, who I think is going to testify about some phone calls, and Helen Reedley and Orville Reedley. Those last two are staging a typical husband-and-wife act, sitting on opposite sides of the room and glaring across at each other.”

“All right. Now let me tell you something. You must have confidence in me and get this straight and do exactly as I tell you.”

“Anything in the world you say, Mr. Mason.”

“Did Della Street stop you in the corridor and tell you to disregard what I had said about—”

“Della Street?”

“My secretary.”

“Heavens, no, Mr. Mason! She must have gone down to the ladies’ room — I heard someone come out of your door, but I didn’t... ”

“Look here,” Mason said, “you’re lying. You can’t afford to lie to me.”

“No matter who asks me,” she said, “I’d swear, and will always swear, that Della Street never said a word to me.”

“All right,” Mason said. “We’ll let that go. But if she did, don’t pay any attention to what she said. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go to Gulling and tell him that you’ve changed your mind; that you’re going to tell the truth if you can get an agreement giving you complete immunity from perjury, from being an accessory, from everything — but that you want that agreement in writing, and you want it signed by him. Now go to him right away and get that.”

“But what shall I tell him when I once get the agreement?”

“Then,” Mason said, “tell him the absolute truth, every single bit of it. Do you understand? Don’t hide anything, except — well, of course, you don’t need to tell him about any conversation you may have had in the corridor outside my office.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mason — I wouldn’t admit that conversation if Saint Peter himself asked me about it.”

“Good girl!” Mason said. “Now go and get Gulling. I’ll come in a minute or two after you so that it won’t look suspicious.”

“Oh, I’ve been in and out, smoking and walking around. They’ve got me tabbed as the nervous type. That’ll make it look all the more convincing when I go to Gulling. He’ll think I’m cracking under the strain. You’re sure it’s all right? That you want me to do it, Mr. Mason?”

“Yes. Tell them everything — except this: you remember that I didn’t make any suggestions to you about not having Eva Martell sign the register. I just told you I wanted her to have a room where—”

“Yes, I remember that. Not putting her on the register was my own idea.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Tell it the way it happened, and good luck to you!”

A few moments later, when Mae Bagley had had time to enter the room, Mason sauntered in.

Mae Bagley was whispering something to Gulling, and a moment later Gulling whisked her out of the room. The witnesses were kept waiting in hostile silence for a matter of some ten minutes. Then Gulling, looking triumphant, marched through the anteroom to the Grand Jury room and returned almost immediately. “Mr. Perry Mason,” he said.

Mason entered the Grand Jury room.

“Mr. Mason,” Gulling said, “you are called as a witness. The Grand Jury is investigating certain matters in connection with the murder of Robert Hines and with developments arising therefrom. I consider it only fair to tell you that you may be indicted yourself as an accessory or an accomplice to certain crimes. You are, of course, aware of your legal rights. You don’t have to answer any question that might incriminate you; on the other hand, any failure to answer a pertinent question will be considered a contempt.”

Mason settled himself in the witness chair and smiled frostily at Gulling. “Go right ahead, Mr. Gulling. Turn on your heat.”

“I’m not calling for any privileged communication between you and your clients, Mr. Mason, but I am asking specifically whether, after you had learned of the murder of Robert Hines, you did not conceal Eva Martell from the police. Whether you didn’t meet her at the streetcar stop nearest her apartment, put her in your automobile, and take her to a rooming house conducted by Mae Bagley, who is a former client of yours?”

Mason crossed his legs and nodded. “Why, certainly.”

“What!” Gulling shouted.

“Certainly I did,” Mason said. “Except that your entire premise is incorrect. I wasn’t hiding her from the police.”

“Who were you hiding her from?”

“Newspaper reporters,” Mason said promptly. “You know how it is. Those chaps have a way of ferreting people out and getting interviews from them.”

“But you did go to Mae Bagley’s rooming house with this young woman, and you did tell Mae Bagley you wanted her buried where no one could find her?”

“That’s exactly right,” Mason said.

“Where no one could find her?”

“Right.”

“No one?”

“Right again.”

“Don’t you understand that includes the police, Mr. Mason?”

“The police had already finished with her,” Mason smiled. “They’d taken her statement and let her go.”

“But they wanted her again shortly afterward.”

“Well,” Mason said, “I naturally can’t be expected to read the minds of the police. As I understand it, the charge the Grand Jury is investigating on this point relates to my intention. I am telling you what my intention was. If you want to make anything else out of it, you’ll have to do some proving!”

“The next morning you knew she was wanted by the police because I told you so.”

“You certainly did,” Mason said. “You also told me that I had until twelve o’clock to get her here. I told her to be sure and be at police headquarters and surrender before twelve o’clock. That discharged my responsibility, Mr. Gulling.”

“No, it didn’t. You didn’t get her here by twelve o’clock.”

“Isn’t that rather technical? A cruising radio car picked her up.”

“In a taxicab — which she said she was using to go to police headquarters. But she couldn’t prove it!”

“Come, come, Mr. Gulling,” Mason said, smiling affably. “You’re confusing your cart and your horse. That’s a matter for you to take up with Eva Martell. My only connection with it was that I told her to be up here by twelve o’clock. Even, however, if she had disregarded my advice and made a dash out of the state by airplane, I’d still be in the clear.”

Gulling, recognizing the force of Mason’s argument, said coldly, “We’ll pass that for the moment. There’s also the question of your being an accessory after the fact of the crime of murder.”

“Oh, that,” Mason said casually.

“Yes, that!” Gulling snapped.

“Of course if you want to talk about the murder, this is going to be rather long drawn out. The defendants in the murder case are being tried in a preliminary hearing before Judge Lindale. But, if you’re really interested in finding out something about that murder, you might ask some questions of your witness Arthur Clovis out there.”

“Clovis?” the foreman of the Grand Jury asked. “Isn’t he to be questioned?”

Gulling replied, “Just on the question of the numbers on the bills, for the purpose of identification.”

“You might,” said Mason, “get Clovis to tell you how it happened that he had a key to the Siglet Manor apartment in his possession, and why he was so anxious to get rid of that key, and—”

A deputy sheriff entered the room and said to Gulling, “This message to Mr. Mason has to be delivered immediately.”

Gulling’s face flushed. “Don’t interrupt these proceedings to give messages to the witness. You should know better than that.”

“But they said this was—”

“I don’t care what they said. The Grand Jury is interrogating Mr. Mason.”

Seeing the slip of paper in the deputy’s hand, Mason extended his own hand, said, “Since the interruption has already been made, I’ll take the message,” and coolly clamped his fingers about the folded paper before Gulling could object.

Mason unfolded the paper. The message was in Della Street’s handwriting.

Mason crumpled the sheet and slipped it into his pocket.

“If you’re quite ready to answer questions,” Gulling said, “and can take enough of your valuable time to comply with the requirements of the law, Mr. Mason... ”

“What do you want to know?” Mason asked. “What were you going to say about Arthur Clovis?” the foreman asked.

“Just that he had a key to the Siglet Manor Apartments,” Mason said. “He used to live there.”

“Well, isn’t it natural for him to have a key, if he failed to surrender it when he moved?”

“I just wanted you to know that he had a key to the apartment house in which the body was found.”

“You don’t claim he had anything to do with the murder?”

“Heavens, no! I just wanted you to know the facts.”

“I don’t see what, that fact has to do with it,” Gulling said. “You don’t claim that it was a key to the apartment where the murdered man was found, do you?”

“No, no,” Mason said. “Nothing like that. It’s a key to an apartment now occupied by a Carlotta Tipton, I believe. You might check on that.”

“We know all about her,” Gulling said.

“Girl friend of the dead man,” Mason commented, his tone still casual. “She was quite jealous. Followed him when he went up to meet his death.”

“How’s that?” the foreman asked.

Mason looked at Gulling in surprise. “I thought you’d told him about that.”

“You claim that Carlotta Tipton followed Robert Hines to the apartment of Helen Reedley?”

“That’s right.”

“But she told me she was asleep all afternoon!”

“She told me different,” Mason said, “and in the presence of witnesses.”

“How many witnesses?”

“Three.”

“Disinterested?”

“Two of them were in my employ.”

“And the third?”

“Paul Drake.”

“Your detective?”

“That’s right.”

“A likely story,” Gulling sneered.

“You don’t believe it?”

“No.”

“The jury that tries my client will,” Mason told him, smiling.

“That doesn’t affect your connection with what happened,” Gulling said angrily. “You may draw a red herring across the trail when you get before the trial jury, but you can’t do it here.”

“It’s no red herring,” Mason was sparring for time. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I think that might be a good idea, Mr. Gulling,” the foreman said.

Gulling yielded, though with bad grace. “You will retire to the outer room, Mr. Mason, and—”

“Why not let him stay right here?” the foreman suggested. “I’d like to hear what this woman says when she’s confronted with Mr. Mason.”

“It’s illegal,” Gulling said. “Under the law only the consulting experts can be present.”

The foreman urged impatiently, “I want Mason here. He’s a witness.”

“Not being examined.”

“Then he’s a consulting expert.”

“I warn you it’s illegal.”

“Then we’ll take a recess for a while and just have a sort of informal meeting. Bring her in.”

“You can’t make her swear to her testimony if you’re in recess.”

“Never mind that for the present. Get her in here.”

“Bring her in,” Gulling told the deputy, again yielding with bad grace.

When Carlotta Tipton entered she smiled at the grand jurors, sat down, and carefully arranged her legs so as to show just enough stocking to interest them.

“Mr. Mason says,” Gulling began, “that you admitted to him that you had followed Robert Hines to the Reedley apartment where he was later found murdered. What about it?”

She turned to Mason in surprise. “Mr. Mason said that?”

“He did.”

“Why, Mr. Mason, how could you say a thing like that? I told you particularly when you called there that I had been sleeping all the afternoon; that I knew Robert was acquainted with a Helen Somebody, or had some business transactions with her; but that I didn’t have the least idea who she was. And you could have knocked me down with a feather when I found it was a woman who had an apartment in the same building.”

“You made that statement to Mr. Mason?” Gulling asked.

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Did Mr. Mason have witnesses present?”

“Yes. A flock of people trooped in — people who were working for him. And he told me that he was representing some clients and had to get them out of a murder charge; that if I could help him he’d appreciate it. I told him there wasn’t a thing that I could say or do that would help him. And then he said that if I would say I’d been jealous of Robert it would help, and I told him I couldn’t say that, because I knew that this business with ‘Helen’ — whoever she was — was merely a matter of business. And he asked me if I couldn’t change my testimony just a little bit.”

“He asked you to change your testimony?” Gulling demanded.

“That’s right,” she said demurely.

“You want to ask this witness any questions, Mr. Mason?” the foreman asked Mason.

“Just a moment. Just a moment,” Gulling protested. “That’s irregular.”

“I don’t care whether it’s irregular or not,” the foreman said. “As far as I’m concerned, Perry Mason is a lawyer, and a good one. He might cut a corner by trying to keep a client out of circulation, but if he says this woman said certain things to him, I don’t think he’s lying. And if he’s got three witnesses to back him up, I want to know more about it. It seems to me the district attorney’s office should show a little more concern over the possibility that this witness, Carlotta Tipton, may be the one that’s committing perjury.”

“Nevertheless, Mr. Mason can’t examine witnesses. It’s irregular and it’s illegal.”

The foreman said angrily, “Well, I can ask questions, and Mr. Mason can talk to me. Tell me what questions to ask, Mr. Mason.”

“Ask her what time she went to sleep.”

Carlotta Tipton replied angrily, “I don’t look at my watch every time I go to sleep. It was right after lunch.”

“Took her clothes off and went to sleep while Robert Hines was in the apartment?” Mason asked the foreman. “You might inquire about that.”

“You can’t throw mud at me,” Carlotta exclaimed. “I was fully dressed until after Bob Hines left the apartment.”

Mason caught the foreman’s eye and tapped his watch significantly.

“What time was that?” the foreman asked.

“About five minutes of two.”

“And when did you see Hines again?”

“I never saw him again.”

“You might ask her how long she slept,” Mason said.

“All afternoon,” Carlotta Tipton snapped back at Mason.

“This is highly irregular!” Gulling protested helplessly.

Ignoring him, Mason went on. “You can easily prove that’s a lie. Helen Reedley had the number of the telephone in Miss Tipton’s apartment; Adelle Winters had the phone number of that apartment; and Eva Martell had the number. That apartment was where they were to call Mr. Hines. And that phone was ringing pretty steadily all afternoon — and was answered by Carlotta Tipton.”

“Of course,” Gulling sneered, “Eva Martell and Adelle Winters would swear to anything to save their necks.”

“Try Helen Reedley,” Mason invited.

There was silence.

Carlotta Tipton broke it to say nervously, “Well, I did wake up long enough to answer the phone once or twice, but I rolled right over and went back to sleep. I didn’t leave that apartment from five minutes to two onward!”

Gulling said coldly, “This hearing is getting somewhat out of hand. It seems to me that we should conduct it—”

The foreman said, “I’m not going to let a lawyer be smeared. I don’t know how the other members feel about it, but if Mason has committed any crime I’m going to indict him. If he hasn’t I’m going to exonerate him. And before I do anything I’m going to make mighty certain that he isn’t being framed!”

Several heads nodded assent.

“Perry Mason is representing two persons who are guilty of robbery and murder,” Gulling said.

Mason said, “Why don’t you let the murder case wait until it’s been tried in court, Gulling?”

“Because I don’t have to. But if this Grand Jury is interested, I can show—”

“Wait a minute!” Mason interrupted.

He was on his feet, his eyes level-lidded with concentration, looking over the heads of the grand jurors, staring into space.

“Well?” the foreman asked after a moment.

Mason said abruptly, “I have a suggestion to make to this Grand Jury.”

“What is it?” the foreman asked.

“Eva Martell and Adelle Winters are being prosecuted for the Hines murder on an information,” said Mason. “I would suggest that while this Grand Jury is in session and has all of the witnesses present, it indict the real murderer.”

“Who?” Gulling asked sarcastically.

“The assumption has always been that Robert Hines was murdered between five minutes of two and ten minutes past two, because at eleven minutes past two Adelle Winters left the apartment, carrying with her the gun with which Hines was killed.”

“Well,” the foreman asked, “what’s wrong with that reasoning?”

“Everything,” Mason said. “It isn’t any of it true. The gun was found buried under garbage. Adelle Winters certainly didn’t push it down into the garbage; yet no garbage was put in after the gun was deposited there. Just consider what that means.”

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Gulling said.

“Yes, it does,” Mason said sharply. “It means that somebody — somebody not Adelle Winters — pushed that gun way down into the garbage because that somebody recognized the possibility that more garbage might have been deposited since the time when Adelle Winters had been seen looking inside. It means, therefore, that some person must have taken the gun out of the garbage can, used it, and put it back — and in putting it back pushed it well down into the garbage.

“Furthermore, it means that the person was somebody who knew that Adelle Winters had been seen at that spot. So far as I know, only two persons knew this. One of them is the detective, Tom Folsom; the other is the man who employed the Interstate Investigators to shadow Adelle Winters — Orville Reedley.”

“Reedley has a perfect alibi for the time when the murder was committed — if that’s what you’re getting at,” Gulling said.

“The time when you think the murder was committed,” Mason corrected. “The time at which the murder was actually committed was some half-hour later than that. Orville Reedley, sitting in the office of the detective agency, got the report that Adelle Winters had left the apartment, had gone directly to the Lorenzo Hotel, had gone to a garbage can and raised the lid. He was curious to learn whether she had put anything into the garbage can. He left the agency’s office, went at once to the hotel — using the alley entrance so as to be safe from observation — and found she had put a gun in the garbage.

“He wondered why Adelle Winters had left the apartment and taken pains to hide a gun so promptly. He took the gun and went up to investigate, knowing that both women were then out of the place. Evidently he had a pass-key he’d got hold of for just such a chance.

“Well, you can see how it looked to Reedley. There was Hines sitting in the bedroom in his shirt sleeves, making himself entirely at home. And remember — Reedley thought that the detectives were following his wife, and that the substituted brunette was the woman with whom he was madly in love. He had a gun in his pocket, and the thought must have suddenly flashed through his mind that, if he pulled the trigger on that gun and eliminated his rival, he had only to go back again to the hotel and push the gun down into the garbage can to make sure that somebody else would pay the penalty for his crime.”

“Any proof of that wild theory?” Gulling asked.

“Fingerprints on the under side of the garbage-can cover,” Mason said curtly. “You had your expert develop those prints, but your reasoning was so sloppy that you failed to check them with the witnesses’ prints. You have your fingerprint expert here, and Orville Reedley is outside. I suggest that in just about five minutes you can determine whether you’ve got proof or not.”

And, moving with calm assurance, Mason walked toward the door. Bowing to the foreman of the Grand Jury, he said, “I guess you gentlemen don’t need me any more.”

The foreman smiled. “Better wait until we get those fingerprints,” he said.