The Case of the Cautious Coquette

Chapter 28

At two o’clock when court reconvened, Hamilton Burger, apparently worried, said, “Your Honor, a peculiar situation has developed in this case. I had every reason to believe that it would be possible to connect this murder weapon with Mr. Perry Mason by reason of his fingerprint, and with the defendant by reason of the fact that I expected to be able to show Mr. Mason was with her at the garage at about the hour the man must have been murdered. That identification evidence has been made a football because of certain ingenious legal trickery, but I want to call to the Court’s attention that it is merely an ingenious legal trickery. The witness ordinarily would have made an absolute identification.”

“Well, of course,” Judge Osborn said, “that’s the vice of identification evidence. The witness saw a tall man wearing a light tan topcoat and a gray hat. He didn’t see the man’s face except vaguely and at a distance. A great number of men would answer that description. The description of the woman, because of the identification of her wearing apparel, which is more unusual, is, of course, much more persuasive; but there were probably thousands of tall men wearing light topcoats in the city at the hour the witness, Goshen, saw the couple at the garage.”

“But there’s only one Perry Mason who could have left a fingerprint on the inside of that gun belonging to his client,” Burger said.

“You haven’t proved the weapon belonged to his client yet,” Judge Osborn said.

Hamilton Burger said, “I admit, Your Honor, the case has become somewhat complicated, but if the Court will bear with me I think the Court should appreciate the trickery by which the identification witness was confused.”

Judge Osborn smiled. “The Court will bear with you as long as you’re putting on proof, Mr. Burger.”

“Very well. Call Sadie Milford.”

Sadie Milford, a well-upholstered woman in the early forties proved to be the manager of the apartment house where Lucille Barton had her apartment. She testified that the garages went with the apartments. That they were kept locked. That the apartment at 208 was entitled to a garage. That duplicate keys to the apartment and to the garage had been given Lucille Barton when she moved in.

“Who had these keys?”

“Lucille Barton.”

“Do you have any receipt showing that to be the case?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was that signed by Lucille Barton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In your presence?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want it introduced in evidence,” Hamilton Burger said.

“No objection,” Mason said.

“Do you care to cross-examine?”

“Yes.”

Mason took the receipt, said, “And you did deliver Lucille Barton these four keys, two to the apartment, and two to the garage?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “That’s all.”

Burger’s next witness was a service-station operator who testified that at a little after six o’clock on the evening of the fifth Lucille Barton had driven her automobile into the service station. It was a Chevrolet sedan with a light brown body. He had found the timing so out of adjustment that the car constantly skipped and backfired. He had changed the adjustment of the timing device, and while with the time and the tools available he hadn’t been able to make a thoroughly workmanlike job of it, he had smoothed the car out so that it ran without backfiring.

“What time did she drive the car in there?” Hamilton Burger asked.

“About six-fifteen, or six-twenty.”

“Who was driving it?”

“Miss Barton.”

“Had you seen her before?”

“Yes, she buys gasoline from me regularly.”

“And by Miss Barton you mean the defendant sitting there at the counsel table with Mr. Mason?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s all,” Burger said.

“That’s all,” Mason announced, smiling. “No questions.”

“Call Stephen Argyle,” Burger said.

Argyle took the stand, gave his residence as 938 West Casino Boulevard, his age as fifty-five, stated that he had employed Hartwell L. Pitkin during his lifetime as chauffeur. That Pitkin had been in his employ on the day of his death.

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Pitkin?” Burger asked.

“Shortly after five o’clock.”

“Where was he at that time?”

“In front of the office of Mr. Perry Mason. That is, in front of the building where Mr. Mason has his office. I was waiting to see Perry Mason. I suddenly remembered that it was Hartwell’s night off. Despite the fact that I was thoroughly annoyed with him, I went down and told him he could take the car and go home.”

“And do you know what happened after that?”

“I only know that I found the car at my residence when I returned there.”

“What time?”

“Sometime... oh, it was after I got back from calling on a patient in the hospital where I made an adjustment and...”

“Never mind anything about that case,” Hamilton Burger said.

“Well, I was defrauded by Mr. Perry Mason into making a settlement that cost me several thousand dollars,” Argyle snapped.

“That’s neither here nor there,” Burger said, soothingly. “Just try to control yourself and tell us what happened.”

“Well, it must have been around nine-thirty or ten o’clock when I returned home. The car was there.”

“You may cross-examine,” Burger said.

“How do you know it was there?” Mason asked.

“Why it... it had to be there. The garage door was closed...”

“But you didn’t look for the car as soon as you returned home.”

“No.”

“How did you get home, by the way?”

“My companion drove me home, an adjuster for the insurance company which carries my insurance.”

“You arrived home when?”

“Somewhere around nine-thirty or ten o’clock.”

“And went to bed at what time?”

“Oh, I would say around eleven.”

“And when did you have occasion to look in the garage for the car?”

“About two o’clock the next morning. I received a call on the telephone and the police told me about what had happened to my chauffeur. They asked me questions and said they were coming out. I got up and dressed, and was headed for the garage about the time the police arrived.”

“Your car was in the garage?”

“That’s right.”

Mason said, “You evidenced some animosity toward me, Mr. Argyle.”

“Personally,” Argyle said, “I think you’re beneath contempt.”

“Why?”

“You knew that I had reason to believe my chauffeur had been in an automobile accident. You talked me into making a settlement of a claim which was entirely spurious. I warn you, Mr. Mason, I am going to sue for fraud and...”

“Oh, it was your chauffeur whom you thought was driving the car?”

“Naturally. I knew I wasn’t driving it. However, I was legally liable for the acts of my employee.”

“Is all this material?” Judge Osborn asked.

“I think it shows motivation and bias on the part of the witness,” Mason said.

“Let’s go into it by all means,” Burger announced, rubbing his hands. “I’d like now to show the entire facts.”

Mason said, “You shall have the entire facts, Mr. Burger. Suppose you tell your side of the story, Mr. Argyle.”

Argyle said, “Around three o’clock on the afternoon of the fifth, Mr. Mason came to my house. Mr. Pitkin was present at the interview. Mr. Mason stated that he had indisputable evidence that my car had been engaged in a hit-and-run accident in which a client of his had been seriously injured. He pointed out that there were bumps on the fenders of my car and... well, I thought he was right.”

“Why did you think I was right?” Mason asked.

“Because my chauffeur had been in trouble with the car on that date. He’d tried to get rid of it and had reported it as being stolen. He had advised me the car had been stolen and insisted I join him so he could explain the circumstances to the police. I went with him to the place where he said he had left the car. The man had been drinking and seemed terribly nervous about something. I was skeptical but badly worried myself, fearing my man might have been in some scrape which would involve me. I returned to my club and telephoned police my car had been stolen. Actually I don’t think the car was ever stolen at all. It was recovered by the police in the downtown business district where it had been parked in front of a fireplug.”

Mason said, “And on the strength of what I had told you, you decided that it would be cheaper for you to hunt up Finchley and make a settlement behind his attorney’s back, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t think any such thing.”

“But that’s exactly what you did, isn’t it?”

“As soon as I realized a man had been seriously hurt I naturally wanted to do something about it. I felt very much concerned about the whole thing. I went to your office. I kept trying to see you. You were out — apparently calling on your client, Lucille Barton.”

“Do you know that?” Mason asked.

“No, I don’t know it.”

“Have you any reason to think that’s where I was?”

“Well, I understood from the police... I’ll withdraw that. The answer is no, I don’t know.”

“All right,” Mason said. “You were at my office and were told I was out.”

“Yes.”

“And where was your chauffeur then?”

“Sitting in my Buick automobile in front of your office building, waiting.”

“You had found a parking place there?”

“My chauffeur had. He had let me out at the entrance to the building. There were no parking places available near the building. I told him to keep driving around the block until he found a parking place right near the entrance of the building. He located one almost immediately.”

“So you were waiting for me?”

“Yes, sir, until I telephoned my insurance carrier about six o’clock and told him I was trying to make a settlement with you on a claim for damages. I had suddenly wakened to a realization that I might be negligent in not reporting to my insurance company.”

“And the insurance carrier suggested to you that you could make a lot cheaper settlement by going out and making a settlement behind my back.”

“My insurance carrier told me to wait there in the lobby and not to talk with you, under any circumstances, until I had seen him. After he arrived, I placed the matter in his hands.”

“But you did go to the hospital and try to make a settlement with my client behind my back, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you mean by behind your back. You weren’t in your office. I certainly tried to communicate with you. I’m not going to wait all day for a lawyer, who’s out gallivanting around with a divorcee, to get back to his office. My time’s valuable!”

“Now, when you made that settlement,” Mason said, “you paid out some money of your own in addition to the settlement made by the insurance company, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I thought the young man was entitled to more money than the insurance company was giving him. I’m not exactly a philanthropist, but on the other hand, I don’t have to make my money by capitalizing on the suffering of a young boy.”

“Very noble sentiments,” Mason said, “but do you want this Court to understand that you not only told your insurance carrier you were liable, but paid out this money of yours purely on the strength of my statement to you that your car had been involved in an accident?”

“Well, I thought you were a reputable attorney. I know different now. At the time, when yo i said you had proof — well, I thought you had it.”

Mason grinned. “Very, very noble and self-righteous, Mr. Argyle. But despite the fact you now consider me beneath contempt, you did go to the doorman of your club and bribe him to swear you hadn’t left the club that afternoon so you wouldn’t be mixed up in anything your chauffeur might have done.”

“That’s not so!”

“You did give the doorman some money?”

“A tip is all.”

“How much?”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“How much?”

“Objected to, Your Honor,” Burger said, jumping up. “This man was deliberately victimized by...”

“Overruled,” Judge Osborn snapped.

“How much?” Mason asked.

“Well, I thought I was giving him five dollars, but I had had a couple of drinks and it was dark. And later on I was short in my cash, so I may have made a mistake and given him more.”

“A hundred dollars?”

“I am afraid so.”

“By mistake?”

“By mistake.”

“You knew you hadn’t been driving the car on the afternoon of the third.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you knew then that the only other person who could have done so was your chauffeur.”

“Well, the car could have been stolen.”

“In which event you wouldn’t have been liable for an accident,” Mason said. “Come, Mr. Argyle, you’re a businessman.”

“Well,” Argyle said, “I see what you’re getting at. As a matter of fact, after you left, I put the thing up to my chauffeur and he broke down and virtually admitted that he had been driving the car and had been involved in that hit-and-run case. Then he admitted he had tried to avoid liability by telling me the car had been stolen.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “Now you have come to the conclusion that statement was false?”

“You mean your statement to me that my car was involved in the hit-and-run accident?”

“Put it that way if you want to.”

“That statement was absolutely and utterly false. A man by the name of Caffee was driving the car that hit that young boy.”

Mason said, “By the way, you and the representative of the insurance company went to Mr. Finchley and threatened to prosecute him for obtaining money under false pretenses unless he returned the money you’d paid him, didn’t you?”

“Well, we explained to him that he certainly wasn’t entitled to the money either by law or equity.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that you’d advised him to keep the money. That it was a voluntary payment and that we couldn’t get it back. That you were going to teach these insurance adjusters not to suck eggs.”

Judge Osborn smiled broadly.

“Exactly,” Mason said. “Now why do you suppose Mr. Pitkin admitted to you he had been engaged in this hit-and-run accident if he actually hadn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Argyle said, “and I wish I did. I’ve been thinking that over, trying to find the answer to it, and I simply can’t figure it out. It now would seem the man was a blackmailer. He doubtless had some reason in that warped mind of his.”

Mason said, “You were anxious to see that your chauffeur had his night off, despite the fact that he had just confessed to you he had been engaged in a hit-and-run driving accident?”

“I can explain that.”

“Go ahead and do so.”

“I knew that my chauffeur made money on his days and nights off. He had explained to me that he was a member of this chauffeurs’ association and that they worked on their days off, and I knew that it was important that he get up to that association because they make definite bookings. I’m a businessman myself. I knew how I’d feel if I should be waiting for a chauffeur who didn’t show up on time. Letting Pitkin go wasn’t out of consideration for him, but to his associates in the chauffeurs’ association.”

“Now then,” Mason said, “has it ever occurred to you that that’s exactly what did happen, Mr. Argyle?”

“What do you mean?”

“That Pitkin had some definite obligation. Someone for whom he was to work on the evening of the fifth. That in place of taking your car home himself, he made arrangements with some other individual to take it home, and that he went out at once to work on this assignment to which he had obligated himself.”

Argyle paused to think that over, then said, “It could be that such is the case.”

Mason said, “Did you ever have occasion to hire any of those chauffeurs on Pitkin’s day off?”

“Certainly not. If I had wanted to do that, I’d have simply made arrangements with Pitkin to have charged me the regular rate for working overtime, and kept him.”

Mason said, “I’m going to hand you a list of fifteen names and ask you if you know any one of those people, Mr. Argyle.”

“Oh, what’s the use of this?” Hamilton Burger expostulated.

Mason said, “It may explain the reason the chauffeur, Pitkin, confessed he had been in a hit-and-run accident when he actually hadn’t.”

“Oh, very well,” Burger said. “I don’t see the point. It seems to me, Your Honor, we’re not only not getting anywhere with this cross-examination, but that it’s just a general fishing expedition.”

“Fishing in promising waters, however,” the Court said, smiling. “I think perhaps Mr. Mason is even getting an occasional nibble.”

Argyle adjusted his glasses, looked at the typewritten list, scratched his head, said, “It’s going to take me a few minutes to check this list over, Mr. Mason.”

“Very well,” Judge Osborn said. “The Court will take a fifteen-minute recess. You can look at the list during that time, Mr. Burger, and discuss it with the witness. Court will recess for fifteen minutes.”

Judge Osborn returned to chambers.

Mason got up, stretched, yawned with elaborate carelessness, walked over to where Lieutenant Tragg was sitting, and said, “How about stepping over here in the corner for a few minutes, Lieutenant?”

Tragg nodded, and the two men moved over to a corner of the courtroom.

Tragg grinned surreptitiously, and said, “Thanks for your cross-examination of Holcomb. He’s been boasting all over about how he trailed you to a place where Goshen could identify you after I’d fallen down on the job. I guess this will cause him to change his time a little. Not that I am talking to you officially, you understand, Mason, this is just personal.”

“Sure,” Mason said. “And still talking personally, how’d you like to take a ride, Tragg?”

“Where?”

“Out to the residential district”

“Do you think we have time?”

“I think we have lots of time,” Mason said.

“We can’t get out there and back inside of fifteen minutes, can we?”

“I think,” Mason said, “that when Argyle sees that list he’s going to want a little more time. He... here comes Burger now.”

Hamilton Burger, moving with the ponderous dignity of a man who is forced by business exigencies to consult with someone for whom he has a contemptuous hatred, said, “How important is that list of witnesses, Mason?”

“Quite important.”

“Argyle can’t possibly check them until he checks a list of some of his stockholders. He says he has a poor memory for names, but he thinks nearly all these men are stockholders in one of his companies. If you want an answer to that question, the case will have to go over until tomorrow morning.”

“Suits me,” Mason said.

“Well, it doesn’t suit me,” Burger said.

“I want an answer to the question,” Mason insisted.

“Well,” Burger announced after some hesitancy, “very well. On your stipulation, we’ll let it go over until tomorrow morning.”

“Will you explain to the judge?” Mason asked.

“Very well,” Burger said, and swung around on his heel.

“Now,” Mason said to Tragg, “if you are ready to go, Lieutenant — and I think we’d better take your car.”

“Say, do you know what you’re doing?” Tragg asked.

“I hope so,” Mason told him.