The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

Chapter Fourteen

Mason latchkeyed the door of his private office to find Nancy Gilman plainly impatient and Della Street desperately trying to hold her.

As Mason opened the door Nancy Gilman was on her feet and apparently headed for the exit door.

Della Street, however, between her and the exit door, was saying, “I’m sure he’ll be here any minute and it’s quite important, Mrs. Gilman. He—”

Mason said, “Hello, everybody. Sit down, Mrs. Gilman. I have a few questions.”

Nancy Gilman gave him the benefit of her super-magnetic smile, then suddenly her mouth was firm. “I have a few questions myself, Mr. Mason,” she said.

“What are they?” Mason asked, making a surreptitious motion with his wristwatch to Della, indicating that he was stalling for time.

“I am not going to have Glamis shut up in jail like a common felon simply because they want her as a witness,” she said. “Isn’t there some procedure by which she can put up bail and be released?”

“Quite definitely,” Mason said cheerfully.

“Well, why don’t we do that?”

“Because at the present time I don’t want to get in the position of representing both her and your husband.”

“Then we’ll get some other attorney to represent her,” Mrs. Gilman said decisively.

“Exactly,” Mason said. “That’s one of the things I want to talk to you about. I want you to get a lawyer for her.”

“I think this case has been a farce as far as justice is concerned,” Nancy said. “Here is Hartley Elliott, a man of the highest moral character, a young man whose only fault was being loyal to his friends, thrown into jail for contempt of court. Here is Glamis, a young woman of refinement and delicacy thrown into a cell with hardened prostitutes and exposed to all sorts of indignities simply because the district attorney wants to have her as a witness.”

“Listen,” Mason said, “let me tell you something about the facts of life, Mrs. Gilman. You can get an attorney who can get Glamis Barlow released on bail without the slightest difficulty. You don’t even need to call it bail. You put up a bond for her appearance as a witness and the court lets her out.”

“Well, why don’t we do it?” Nancy asked. “Why haven’t you made arrangements to do it, Mr. Mason? Even if you couldn’t represent both Glamis and Carter you could at least have arranged for some other attorney.”

“Because,” Mason said, “the minute she puts up a bond and steps out of custody as a material witness she’ll be arrested as a codefendant. She’ll then be charged with being an accessory after the fact in the murder or she’ll be charged as a codefendant in the murder. Then Hamilton Burger will file a joint information against Glamis and your husband and try them both for the murder of Vera Martel.

“And once she’s arrested for murder she can’t get out on bail. Once she’s arrested for murder, Hamilton Burger simply has to go through with the case, to save his face if for no other reason. Once she’s arrested for murder she has no sympathy from either the court or the public. But so long as a good-looking girl like Glamis is being held as a material witness at the whim of the district attorney, she has the sympathy of both the court and the public.

“For your information, this way of handling the case is making the judge angry at the prosecutor. “Now then, does that answer your question?”

Nancy Gilman thought that over for a few moments, then when she spoke there was a decided change in her manner.

“I still think it’s the most absurd thing I ever heard of in my life,” Nancy said. “Carter wouldn’t hurt a fly and Glamis has no more idea of what happened than... well, she’s completely innocent.”

“What about those people who were going to testify that they saw her running out of the workshop?”

“Bosh and nonsense!”

“Do you know where Glamis was that morning?”

“I don’t know, no. I was asleep. But I know what Muriell told me, and Muriell said there was absolutely no possibility that Glamis could have got back in the house, got her clothes off and come out to stand in the hall by the time Muriell came down from the attic. It’s absurd!”

“The matter seems to hinge,” Mason said, “on whether you knew Vera Martel in her lifetime.”

“I never heard of the creature.”

“You wouldn’t have paid her any blackmail?”

“I wouldn’t have paid anyone any blackmail, Mr. Mason. If anybody tried to blackmail me I’d kick them down the front steps.

“Look at me, Mr. Mason. Believe me and believe my sincerity. I’ve lived my own life. I haven’t conformed to the conventions. I’ve had an illegitimate child. You know that. I could have married the father of Glamis Barlow in order to give the child a name. When he learned I was in trouble and started trying to save his own skin I lost all respect for him.

I made up my mind that I’d have my own child in my own way. I came out here and disappeared and defied all of his efforts to find me then or later.

“Anybody could dig into my past and find a lot of things that showed I’d been untrue to the conventions, but I defy anybody to show that I’ve ever been untrue to myself or to my own best convictions. And as long as I feel that way I’ll throw any blackmailer out of the house.”

Mason said, “If we could establish those facts it might help a lot.”

“What do you mean, if we could establish them?”

Mason said, “Mrs. Gilman, I want you to look me in the eyes. Are you lying?”

She looked him in the eyes and said, “No, I’m not lying. I don’t stoop to falsehoods. I can afford to be myself and I don’t like deceit, I don’t like falsehoods, I don’t like hypocrisy.”

“All right,” Mason said, “here’s my idea. I want you to take a lie-detector test today, right now. I am going to let the newspapers know about the results of that lie-detector test. I want to establish that you did not know Vera Martel and that she was not blackmailing you.”

For a moment Nancy Gilman’s eyes seemed to waver.

“If,” Mason said, “you are telling the truth, if you have a scorn of hypocrisy and of falsehood, you have absolutely nothing to fear. You can pass the lie-detector test with flying colors.”

“But,” she said, “suppose I’m nervous? Suppose the man who gives the lie-detector test doesn’t appreciate the difference between nervousness and the reaction of one who is telling an untruth?”

“The man I have in mind,” Mason said, “is thoroughly competent. He’s not going to be fooled by anything of that sort. He’ll talk with you until he gets your normal level, your normal reactions, and then he’ll ask you questions. If you’re lying, don’t take the test. Just leave the office quietly and I’ll try to do the best I can for your husband. And if you’re lying I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Then if you could prove that you’re not lying,” Mason said, “it might help your husband — and your daughter.”

“Where do I take this lie-detector test?” she asked.

Mason nodded to Della Street. “Take her down to Paul Drake’s office, Della. Cartman Jasper is there, Mrs. Gilman. You’ll take the lie-detector test in a room where you won’t be disturbed, where there are no distractions, where your reactions will be measured by a very delicate machine which registers your blood pressure, your respiration, your electrical skin-resistance.”

“What do all those things have to do with it?”

“If,” Mason said, “you’re a good reactor you can’t tell a falsehood without having a change in blood pressure, probably distinctive changes in the rate and type of respiration and changes in the electrical resistance of your skin. If, as you say, you have scorned falsehoods, if you have never had experience in lying, you’ll make a perfect subject and Jasper will be able to give you a clean bill of health.

“If I can tell the newspaper reporters that you took a lie-detector test, if they can interview Cartman Jasper and find that you never knew Vera Martel, had no reason to fear her and weren’t planning to pay her any blackmail, it will be a tremendous moral advantage. Of course, we can’t use the results of a lie-detector test in court, but the resulting public sentiment which naturally will come from such a test will greatly enhance the difficulties of a district attorney.”

Nancy Gilman turned to Della Street. Her manner was that of royalty. “Please take me to where I am to go, Miss Street,” she said. “I am ready.”

Della Street said, “This way, please,” and left the office.

Five minutes later Della Street was back.

“Everything all set?” Mason asked.

“Everything’s all set,” she said. “Paul Drake has her and Cartman Jasper in his interrogation room. There’s one of those trick mirrors and we can look through and see what’s going on without being seen. The room is bugged so we can hear what’s being said and there’s even a mirror in the ceiling so that you can watch the results of the needles on the polygraph machine as she answers questions.”

Mason grinned. “Let’s go.”

“Do you know just what you hope to accomplish?” Della Street asked.

Mason shook his head. “I’m fighting for time and I’m fighting a tough combination of seemingly insurmountable difficulties and overwhelming evidence. When a lawyer gets in that position the only thing for him to do is to take the initiative and keep moving. Let’s go.”

They walked down the corridor to Drake’s office. The receptionist nodded and, putting her finger to her lips for silence, tiptoed down the corridor and opened a door.

Paul Drake was standing in a darkened room looking through a one-way mirror into a questioning room where Nancy Gilman was seated in front of a polygraph machine. A pressure cuff was around her arm, electrodes on her hand and a coil placed around her chest so as to register the rhythm of her breathing.

Paul Drake said in a hoarse whisper, “He’s made quite an impression on her already. He got her to select a number between one and ten and then not only told her what the number was but showed her her graph in order to show how her blood pressure indicated the number when he came to it. I think he now has her in the right frame of mind to go ahead with the test.”

Cartman Jasper adjusted the needles on the machine. They could hear his voice through the microphone-speaking device which relayed sounds from the other office.

“Now, Mrs. Gilman, I am going to ask you to answer all of the questions I ask, either yes or no. If it is necessary to make any explanation or to elaborate on your answer, wait until the test is completed. But just answer these questions as I ask them, yes or no. Do you understand?”

Nancy Gilman nodded.

“Please don’t move in any way during the brief period in which I am giving you this test. Sit perfectly relaxed and avoid any muscular movement. Try to think only about the questions and the answers to the questions. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“You are seated comfortably?”

“Yes.”

Jasper, in a toneless voice, said, “Is your first name Nancy?”

“Yes.”

There was an interval of some ten seconds, then Jasper gave the second question. “Are you the mother of a daughter named Glamis?”

“Yes.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Yes.”

“Are you married to Carter Gilman?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever know a person named Vera M. Martel?”

“No.”

“Did you have breakfast this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Has anyone tried to blackmail you during the past three months?”

“No.”

“Of your own knowledge, do you know who killed Vera M. Martel?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in photography?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know a person named Steven A. Barlow?”

“Yes.”

“Would you object if I should ask you an embarrassing personal question while the polygraph tested the truth of your answer?”

There was a moment of silence, then she said, “Yes.”

Cartman Jasper said, “Very well, Mrs. Gilman, we’ll rest for a few moments and then I am going to repeat the same questions again in exactly the same order.”

Mason, who had been looking at the mirror which showed the graph made by the three needles on the chart, said in a puzzled voice, “She’s telling the truth.”

“Unless she doesn’t react,” Della Street said.

“Of course she reacts,” Mason said. “Look at the reaction that took place when Jasper asked her that last test question. She’s a good reactor but...”

“What is it?” Della Street asked.

“When they asked her about her daughter, Glamis,” Mason said, “there was a distinct reaction. Of course, it may be just a matter of adjustment or something that caused an isolated reaction. However, you’ve got it in her pulse, her blood pressure, her respiration and her skin resistance. She’s a very good reactor and something happened there... Let’s see what happens again.”

Once more Jasper went through the questions. Once more there was a very definite reaction when he questioned her about Glamis.

Mason turned to Della Street, said, “He’ll run her through once more. We’d probably better go back to the office. She may want to come and see us when she’s finished, and it wouldn’t be advisable to have her know we were watching.”

Paul Drake followed them to the door. “Do you want to try to break her down, Perry? I think you’re wasting time. I think she’s telling the truth.”

“There’s something about Glamis that bothers her,” Mason said thoughtfully.

“Why shouldn’t there be? Glamis is an illegitimate child and I suppose that beneath Nancy Gilman’s somewhat casual exterior she keenly appreciates the position her indiscretion has put Glamis in.”

Mason nodded. “That probably accounts for it,” he said, “but there certainly was a very definite reaction there. We’ll see what Cartman Jasper says. Tell him to come down to my office after he’s finished, and unless Nancy Gilman wants to see me about something, let her go home. She was, I believe, in something of a hurry.”

Mason and Della Street went back to their office. Twenty minutes later Cartman Jasper came in with the graphs of the examination folded in his hand.

“What do you think?” Mason asked.

Jasper said, “She’s telling the truth all the way through, Mason, as far as the case is concerned. She never knew Vera Martel, she hasn’t been blackmailed, but she’s lying about Glamis Barlow.”

“You mean Glamis Barlow isn’t her daughter?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know,” Jasper said. “I’d have to make up a set of test questions about Glamis and ask her those in order to find out the truth. But there’s something in connection with Glamis that causes her to have an emotional reaction.”

“You knew that Glamis was illegitimate?” Mason asked.

“Paul Drake told me that, but I don’t think that accounts for it, Mason. I think there’s something else. There’s some emotional disturbance there in connection with the statement that she had a daughter named Glamis Barlow.”

Mason frowned thoughtfully. “Now, suppose Glamis isn’t her daughter,” he said.

“That could very well be,” Jasper admitted.

“Gosh, what an opportunity for a blackmailer that would be!” Mason said.