The Case of the Curious Bride

Chapter 16

Judge Frank Munroe, of the Domestic Relations Department of the Superior Court, strode from his chambers to the bench, adjusted his glasses and peered down at the crowded courtroom. A bailiff intoned the formula which marked the opening of court. Simultaneously with the banging of Judge Munroe's gavel, doors on opposite sides of the courtroom opened and officers brought Rhoda Montaine through the one door, Carl Montaine through the other. Both were in custody, Carl Montaine as a material witness, Rhoda Montaine as the defendant in a murder case. It was the first opportunity either had had to see the other since their arrest.

"The case of Montaine versus Montaine," said Judge Munroe. "John Lucas, a deputy district attorney, representing the plaintiff; Perry Mason representing the defendant."

Rhoda Montaine gave an involuntary exclamation, stepped swiftly forward. The restraining arm of a deputy barred her way. "Carl!" she exclaimed.

Carl Montaine, his face bearing the evidence of sleepless nights and worried days, clamped his lips in a firm line, held his eyes straight ahead, marched toward the chair which had been prepared for him, sat down beside the deputy, leaving his wife standing, with incredulous dismay in her eyes, her face ghastly white. From the courtroom came a low murmur which was silenced by the peremptory gavel of a bailiff. Rhoda Montaine walked blindly toward the chair which had been reserved for her. Her teardimmed eyes made it necessary for the deputy at her side to guide her with a hand at her elbow.

Perry Mason, spectator of the silent drama, said no word, made no move. He wanted the full force of what had happened to impress the spectators; and he was careful not to intrude upon the stage. It was Judge Munroe who broke the tension of the courtroom.

"Both parties," he said, "to this action are in custody. The defendant is charged with murder. It is rumored that the plaintiff will appear as a witness for the People in the murder case. The Court notices that the action is filed on behalf of the plaintiff by a counsel in the district attorney's office. The Court wishes to announce, therefore, gentlemen, that there will be no deviation from the issues in this case. The action before the Court is one to annul a marriage, on the ground that there was a prior husband living. Counsel for neither side will be allowed to crossexamine opposing witnesses for the purposes of eliciting information which may subsequently be used in the trial of People versus Rhoda Montaine. Is that understood, gentlemen?"

Perry Mason bowed his head in silent assent. John Lucas flashed a glance of triumph at him. There could be no question but what the charge from the judge amounted to a distinct victory for the district attorney's office. Perry Mason could always have his client refuse to answer questions on the ground that the answer might incriminate her. The judicial admonition, therefore, amounted to a curtailment of Mason's right to crossexamine Carl Montaine.

"Call Carl Montaine as the first witness for the plaintiff," said Lucas.

Carl Montaine dug his hand into the shoulder of his father, who occupied a seat at the counsel table immediately adjacent to his son. The boy then marched with steady dignity to the witness stand, held up his right hand, was sworn, and then glanced inquiringly at Lucas.

"Your name is Carl W. Montaine?"

"Yes."

"You reside here in the city, Mr. Montaine?"

"Yes."

"You are acquainted with the defendant, Rhoda Montaine?"

"Yes."

"When did you first meet her?"

"At the Sunnyside Hospital. She was employed by me as a nurse."

"You subsequently went through a marriage ceremony with her?"

"Yes."

"Can you give the date of that?"

"The eighth day of June."

"Of this year?"

"Yes."

Lucas turned to Perry Mason with a wave of his hand.

"You may inquire," he said.

Perry Mason's smile was urbane. "No questions," he said.

The witness had apparently been carefully coached, in anticipation of a rigid crossexamination. Lucas had been in tense readiness to jump to his feet with an objection, should Mason ask any important questions. Both men showed their surprise.

"That's all," said Judge Munroe sharply. "Step down, Mr. Montaine."

Lucas was on his feet. "Your Honor," he said, "under the Code of Civil Procedure, we have a right to call the defendant to the stand for crossexamination as an adverse party, and in advance of any examination on the part of her counsel. I therefore desire to call Rhoda Montaine to the witness stand."

"Just what," asked Perry Mason, "do you expect to prove by this witness?"

Lucas frowned. "I don't believe," he said, "that it is necessary for me to disclose my plan for procedure nor the purpose of my examination."

"In view of the Court's statement," said Perry Mason, smilingly polite, "I was about to state that I thought we would stipulate whatever you wished to prove from this witness."

"Will you stipulate," asked Lucas, his voice harsh, driving and hostile, "that on the eighth day of June, when the defendant went through a marriage ceremony with Carl Montaine, she had previously been party to a marriage ceremony with another man; that this man's name was Gregory Lorton, alias Gregory Moxley, who was killed on the morning of June sixteenth of the present year?"

"I will," said Perry Mason.

Lucas showed surprise. Judge Munroe frowned thoughtfully. There was a rustle of motion in the crowded courtroom. "I also desire," said John Lucas, glancing at the Court, "to interrogate this witness as to the identity of a person who was buried in February of nineteen hundred and twentynine under the name of Gregory Lorton."

Perry Mason's smile became a grin. "In view of our stipulation," he said, "that the Gregory Lorton who was married to the defendant in this case was alive at that date, it becomes entirely immaterial in this action who it was that was buried under the name of Gregory Lorton. If you wish to pursue that inquiry in a criminal action, you have your right to do so. And, unfortunately, you also have the right to pursue that inquiry by giving out statements to the newspapers intimating that you suspect this defendant of having poisoned that individual."

Lucas whirled, his face red. "That insinuation is unjustified!" he shouted. "You can't…"

Judge Munroe's gavel banged on his desk.

"Counselor," he said to Perry Mason, "your objection is well taken. Your comments were entirely uncalled for."

"I apologize to the Court," said Perry Mason.

"And to counsel," suggested Lucas.

Perry Mason remained significantly silent.

Munroe looked from face to face. There was, perhaps, the faint twinkle of humor in his eyes. "Proceed," he said.

"That," said Lucas, "is our case," and sat down.

Perry Mason said, "Call Mrs. Bessie Holeman to the witness stand."

A young woman of perhaps thirtytwo years of age, with tired eyes, strode to the witness stand, held up her right hand and was sworn.

"Did you," asked Perry Mason, "go to the inquest which was held over the remains of Gregory Moxley, alias Gregory Lorton, the man who was killed on the sixteenth day of June of this year?"

"I did."

"Did you see the remains?"

"I did."

"Did you recognize them?"

"Yes."

"Who was the man?"

"He was the man whom I married on the fifth of January, 1925."

The spectators gasped with surprise. Lucas half rose from his seat, sat down, then jumped up again. He hesitated a moment, then said slowly. "Your Honor, this line of testimony takes me completely by surprise. However, I move to strike out the answer as not responsive to the question, as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It makes no difference how many prior marriages this man, Moxley, might have had before he married Rhoda Montaine. He might have had two dozen previous wives living. Rhoda Montaine could have filed suit for annulment during his lifetime. She did not. With his death, she becomes a widow. In other words, her marriage is not subject to collateral attack."

Perry Mason smiled. "The law of this state provides that a subsequent marriage contracted by any person during the life of a former husband or wife of such person with any person other than such former husband or wife is illegal and void from the beginning. In the Estate of Gregorson, 16 °Cal., 61, it is held that a void marriage is subject to collateral attack.

"Obviously, Gregory Lorton could not enter into a valid marriage with Rhoda Montaine as long as Lorton's prior wife was living Therefore, the previous marriage of this defendant, being null and void, was no bar to a subsequent valid marriage to Carl Montaine."

"Motion to strike is denied," said Judge Munroe.

"Did you ever secure a divorce from the man who has been variously described as Gregory Moxley or Gregory Lorton subsequent to the fifth day of January, 1925?" asked Perry Mason.

"Yes."

Perry Mason unfolded a legal paper, presented it to Lucas with a flourish. "I show to counsel," he said, "a certified copy of the decree of divorce, and call to the attention of Court and counsel the fact that the decree of divorce was subsequent to the marriage of this defendant to Gregory Lorton. I offer this certified decree in evidence."

"It will be received," Judge Munroe said.

"Crossexamine," announced Perry Mason.

Lucas approached the witness, stared steadily at her and said, "Are you certain of the identity of this man you saw in the morgue?"

"Yes."

Lucas shrugged his shoulders, said to Judge Munroe, "That is all."

The judge leaned over his desk and said to the clerk of the court, "Bring me that one hundred and sixtieth California Reports, and volume sixteen of California Jurisprudence."

There was a restless silence in the courtroom while the clerk stepped into the Judge's chambers, returning with two books which the judge consulted thoughtfully. Judge Munroe looked up from the books and disposed of the case with a single sentence. "Judgment," he said, "must be entered for the defendant. The petition to annul the marriage is denied. Court is adjourned."

Perry Mason turned and caught the eye of the elder Montaine, an eye that was glittering and frosty. There was no expression whatever upon the face of the older man. John Lucas looked crushed. Carl Montaine seemed rather dazed, but C. Phillip Montaine retained his poise. It was impossible to tell whether he was surprised by the decision.

The courtroom buzzed with activity. Newspaper men sprinted for telephones. People milled into curious throngs, every one talking at once. Perry Mason said to the deputy who had Rhoda Montaine in custody, "I want to take my client into the jury room for consultation. You can sit in the door if you wish." He took Rhoda Montaine's arm, piloted her into the jury room, held a chair for her, sat across a table from her and smiled reassuringly.

"What does it all mean?" she asked.

"It means," said Perry Mason, "that Judge Munroe has held your marriage to Carl Montaine absolutely valid and binding."

"Then what?" she asked.

"Then," said Perry Mason, pulling the complaint from his pocket, "you are going to sue him for divorce on the grounds of extreme cruelty, in that he has falsely accused you of murder, in that he has betrayed the confidence you have made to him, in that he has, on numerous times and occasions, treated you in a cruel and inhuman manner. I have listed some of those times and occasions in this complaint. All you have to do is to sign it."

Tears came to her eyes. "But," she said, "I don't want to divorce him. Don't you understand, I make allowances for his character. I tell you, I love him."

Perry Mason leaned close to her, so that his eyes were staring steadily into hers. "Rhoda," he said in a low voice, "you've told your story. You've given the district attorney a signed statement. You can't deviate from that story now. You've got to stand or fall by it. So far, the district attorney hasn't been able to uncover the person who actually did stand on the doorstep and ring the doorbell of Moxley's apartment while Moxley was being murdered, but I have uncovered him. I have uncovered two of them. One of them may be lying. On the other hand, both may be telling the truth. The testimony of either one will get you the death penalty."

She stared at him with consternation in her eyes.

"One of them," Perry Mason went on, "is Oscar Pender, a man from Centerville who was trying to get money from Moxley. This money Pender was to get for his sister. Moxley had swindled Pender's sister out of her savings."

"I don't know anything about him," Rhoda Montaine said. "Who's the other one?"

Mason's eyes bored into hers. He said slowly, "The other one is Doctor Claude Millsap. He couldn't sleep. He knew of your appointment. He got up and drove to Moxley's house. You were there. The lights were out. He rang the bell. Your car was parked around the corner on a side street."

Rhoda Montaine was white to the lips. "Claude Millsap!" she said, in a whisper.

"You got yourself in this mess," Mason told her, "by not doing what I told you. Now you're going to follow instructions. We've won that annulment case. Your husband can't testify against you. The district attorney, however, has given the newspapers signed statements covering your husband's testimony. He's held your husband as a material witness, where I couldn't talk with him; but he's let every newspaper man in town talk with him. Now then, we've got to combat that propaganda. We're going to file this divorce. I've drawn it on the theory that your husband was guilty of cruelty in telling a bunch of lies to the district attorney, lies that linked you with a murder of which you are innocent."

"Then what?" she asked.

"Then," he said, "it's going to make some nice copy for the newspapers, but the main thing is that I'm going to slap a subpoena on Carl Montaine, forcing him to attend at the taking of a deposition. Before the district attorney's office realizes what has happened, they'll find that I've got Carl sewed up. If he doesn't change his story, you may get big alimony. If he does, it's going to look like hell for the D.A.'s office."

There was fear in her eyes as she asked, "Can they use this deposition against me in the murder case?"

"No."

"But," she said, "I don't want a divorce from him. I know he has weaknesses. I love him in spite of those weaknesses. I want to make a man out of him. He's had too much coddling. He's been taught to lean on his father and his ancestors. You can't change a man over night. You can't kick the props out from under him and expect him to stand on his own feet all at once. You can't…"

"Listen," he told her, "I don't care how you feel about Carl. Right at present, you're accused of murder. The district attorney is going to try and get the death penalty and back of the district attorney is a man who has a great deal of intelligence, a great deal of poise, and who is utterly ruthless. He's willing to spend any amount of money that is necessary to get you convicted and get you a death penalty."

"Who do you mean?" she asked.

"C. Phillip Montaine," he told her.

"Why," she said, "he doesn't approve of me, but he wouldn't…"

The officer in the doorway coughed suggestively. "Time's up," he said.

Perry Mason shoved the divorce complaint in front of her, held out his fountain pen. "Sign on that line," he said.

Her eyes stared appealingly into his. "Why," she said, "he's Carl's father! He wouldn't…"

"Sign," Mason said. The officer moved forward. Rhoda Montaine took the fountain pen. The fingers of her hand, brushing against the back of Mason's hand, were cold. She dashed off her signature, raised tearmoistened eyes to the officer. "I am ready," she said.