The Case of the Lazy Lover

19

Mason, Della Street and Paul Drake sat at a luncheon table in a restaurant at the country town where Judge Colton was presiding over the preliminary investigation.

“Well,” Mason said, “at this late date, my client tells me another story, Paul.”

“The same thing that Fleetwood says?”

“Just about. She says her husband was dead when she entered the car after Fleetwood had left it. If she’s telling the truth on that, I don’t know how I’m ever going to get a jury to believe her.”

“I’d say that Allred must have been dead when Fleetwood threw the gun away,” Drake said. “Otherwise, Fleetwood would hardly have thrown the gun. That’s the act of a man who is trying to get rid of a murder weapon. He’d struck Allred on the head hard enough to kill him, and he knew it. The weapon he used had been the barrel of the gun, and when he threw the gun away it was a very natural, logical, and typical effort on the part of a murderer to get rid of the murder weapon.”

“I know,” Mason said, “but I don’t know whether a jury will know. In all probability, the other way is better. If it’s the truth.”

“What other way?” Drake asked.

“Make the jury realize the character of Bertrand Allred. Let the jury feel that Allred was still alive when his wife got in the car; that she started to drive him home; that Allred regained consciousness and started struggling with her, trying to overpower her; that she hit him then and killed him in self-defense.”

“You could make quite a case that way,” Drake said.

“It’s a case that would appeal to the sympathies of the jurors all right, particularly in view of Fleetwood’s testimony. But what bothers me is that I can’t be certain it’s the truth. Mrs. Allred may be trying to climb aboard and ride along on Fleetwood’s story.”

“Well, what do you care? Fleetwood has to give her a free ride — now.”

“But I’m afraid to have her tied to something unless it’s the truth. Believe me, Paul, when you’re in a jam the truth is the only thing solid enough and substantial enough to rely on.”

“Of course, your client hasn’t been on the stand yet,” Drake pointed out. “The only one she’s told her story to is you.”

Mason said, “I’d like to reopen the case. I’d like to cross-examine Fleetwood a little more in detail about his reason for throwing the gun away, and just what he was trying to accomplish. And yet, there was something about the whole story...” Mason pushed the lunch dishes to one side, took the diagram Humphreys had made from his pocket and spread it on the table. He carefully studied the tracks.

“It’s mathematical,” Drake said. “That part of Fleetwood’s story has to be true. It’s corroborated by his tracks.”

Mason, studying the diagram Humphreys had given him, suddenly began to chuckle.

“What is it?” Drake asked.

“Darned if I know, Paul,” the lawyer said, “but I have an idea germinating in my mind. There’s a very strong possibility that Mrs. Allred is still lying to me.”

“You mean now?”

“Right now. That her present story is false.”

“But why would she do that?”

“Because Fleetwood has told such a damn good lie that she thinks there’s no use trying to fight against it, and because by corroborating Fleetwood’s story she stands a better chance of getting the sympathy of a jury than by telling the truth, which no one will believe.”

“What is the truth?” Della Street asked.

“That,” Mason said, “is something I propose to find out after lunch.”