The Case of the Musical Cow - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Erle Stanley Gardner (Chapter 19) #20

Chapter 19

Sun came pouring in through the west windows of the sheriff’s office. A fly droned in lazy circles over the desk.

Rob Trenton sat motionless. The lawyer whom Merton Ostrander had secured to represent him was seated on Rob’s right. He was a thin-faced, quick-eyed, fast-talking individual who interjected comments from time to time, always winding up his remarks with the same formula, “Of course, gentlemen, I’m merely pointing out a discrepancy. Anything I say is not binding on my client, and my client refuses to make any statement at this time.”

The smuggler whom the sheriff held under arrest, the same one who had decoyed Rob into the car, who had helped overpower him and hold him prisoner, sat at the sheriff’s right. There was an air of smug cunning about him. So far he had failed to make any statement within Rob’s hearing, but from references made by the sheriff, the man had evidently told a detailed story of what had happened.

Rob wondered what that story was.

A stenographer entered the office, carrying a typewritten statement, which she handed to the sheriff. The sheriff took it, cleared his throat and said to the smuggler, “I will now read your statement to you. This isn’t in your exact words. It’s boiled down, but it’s taken from what you said. If there’s anything you want to change about it, you speak up right now and change it. If it’s wrong we want to fix it so it’s right. Do you understand that?”

The smuggler nodded.

The sheriff read slowly so that there would be ample opportunity to make corrections:

My name is Sam Joyner. I am fifty-two years of age. I am the registered owner of a houseboat, the Lady-Lou.

About two months ago I was approached by a man whom I only know as Big Jim. He wanted to rent my houseboat. He said he wanted to do some entertaining. At the time, I thought it was just a question of a few wild parties, but after a while I began to believe it was something more sinister. I should have gone to the police right then, but I didn’t. I rode along because the rent was good and because it was only my word against theirs. I didn’t participate in any of the profits from smuggling. They paid me a flat rent for the boat, and permitted me to keep one cabin for my own use. However, I lived aboard and, by keeping my ears open, got to know what was going on.

Last night things came to a showdown. Harvey Richmond, who I now understand is connected with the State Narcotics Division, forced his way aboard and tried to make an arrest.

A man, whom I only met yesterday, who gave the name of Rob Trenton, had smuggled in a shipment of heroin that had been concealed by him in an automobile which he had arranged to drive for a young woman who was on the ship with him. After he had smuggled this dope shipment ashore he buried it. He told the smugglers where he had buried it and they went to get it. I understand one of the gang was arrested when he went to dig it up.

This man Trenton was aboard my houseboat last night. Harvey Richmond evidently had been keeping the boat under observation. I didn’t know this. I had decided to terminate the lease on the boat and notify the police. I went ashore but left my car parked clown under a little wooden shed on an adjoining farm which I rent as a garage. I had gone to it and then recalled some personal belongings I wanted on the boat.

It was as I was returning to the boat that I heard a car drive up at high speed. Then, when I was almost to the boat, I saw this man, Rob Trenton, run off the houseboat and to the pier. I saw him cast loose the lines that held the houseboat, then someone tried to stop him. I think it was Harvey Richmond, but I can’t be sure. He called to Trenton to stop and surrender. Robert Trenton raised a gun and fired twice. Richmond, or whoever it was, fell back to the deck. I turned and started to run through the darkness to my car. I had gone about twenty yards when I looked back over my shoulder and saw the first flames coming up from my boat. I debated whether to notify the police and finally decided against it because I thought no one knew I had been aboard the boat, so I got in my car and went to my home.

That is all I know.

“Now that’s true?” the sheriff asked.

“So help me, that’s true,” Sam Joyner said.

The sheriff handed him a pen. Sam Joyner signed the statement.

“Now,” the sheriff said, “write underneath that: ‘I, Sam Joyner, have made the above statement as my free and voluntary act and without any coercion of any sort.’ If that is the case, sign that declaration. If it isn’t, just tear the thing up.”

“That’s the case,” Sam Joyner said.

“All right. Write it.”

Joyner wrote and signed the statement as requested.

Rob Trenton, who had been listening incredulously, said, “That’s a lie! That whole statement is false. This man was one of the...”

“Hold it!” Rob’s lawyer interrupted. “Don’t say a word, Mr. Trenton, not a word. If you do, you’ll have to explain, have to answer questions. We’ll make a complete statement later. Right now all I want you to say is that you deny this accusation and that it’s false.”

“Of course it’s false! This man kidnapped...”

“That’s all,” the lawyer interposed. “You’ve denied the charge. That’s enough.”

“Every word of that is the truth,” Joyner said doggedly.

“My client says it’s false,” Staunton Irvine, Rob’s lawyer, said promptly.

“Your client’s trying to lie out of a murder rap,” Joyner said.

“How do you know?” Irvine shot the question at him.

“Because I saw him shoot this man. I think the man was Richmond. I don’t know, but I’m pretty certain that’s who it was. Trenton shot twice and hit him both times. Then the boat caught fire.”

“Now then,” Rob’s attorney said, “you don’t know it was Robert Trenton who fired those shots. You can’t swear to it, can you?”

“I can swear to it,” Joyner said.

“And,” the attorney went on, “you don’t know that any of the shots hit Harvey Richmond. You were on the shore, and...”

“That’ll do,” the sheriff said. “Mr. Joyner is not going to be cross-examined at this time. Now then, Mr. Trenton, you’ve heard Mr. Joyner’s statement. Do you care to make any statement?”

Irvine said quickly, “My client denies shooting Harvey Richmond. The claim that he did is absurd. Joyner’s statement is a lie. However, we are not prepared to make any statement of our own at this time.”

“When will you make one?”

“Well, now,” the attorney said, “that depends very much upon the circumstances. Has it ever occurred to you, Sheriff, that this is the wrong jurisdiction in which to try this case? The river is a state boundary. That boat burned and drifted aground...”

“That doesn’t make any difference,” the sheriff said. “According to the testimony of Mr. Joyner, the murder was committed right here in this state and in this county. We’re taking charge. Now then, I’m going to tell you some more things. The charred body of Harvey Richmond was identified by a badge that he carried in his pocket, by a tattoo mark which was still visible, and by his dentist.”

“No comment,” the attorney said.

“Two bullets were found in his body. Either one of those bullets would have been instantly fatal.”

“No comment.”

“Two empty cartridges which had been ejected from an automatic were found on the ground by the pier this morning.”

“No comment.”

“And,” the sheriff went on triumphantly, “the State Police from across the river have co-operated to the extent of making a search of the house of Linda Mae Carroll at 205 East Robinson Street, where your client apparently spent the night, and in the drawer of a locked desk there they found a .32 caliber automatic which had been recently fired, with two shells missing from the cartridge clip. I think you’ll find that ballistics experts will identify the fatal bullets as having come from that gun.”

“I tell you we have no comment,” the attorney said. “Not at this time.”

“When will you have a statement?”

“I can’t tell you. That will depend on developments. I am protecting the interests of my client. He is the victim of a frame-up.”

“Yeah. That’s what they all say. You got any more comments?”

“We are making no statement at this time. I would like to point out to you, however, the utter absurdity of the claim that Harvey Richmond could or would have been aboard that houseboat freely and voluntarily and in a position to have tried to apprehend my client.”

“Why not?” the sheriff asked.

“Because that houseboat had been rented by a gang of smugglers. If Harvey Richmond had been aboard that boat he would have been a prisoner.”

“They weren’t aboard the boat when the shooting took place,” Sam Joyner said hurriedly. “The only two persons I saw were this man Trenton and the man who was killed.”

“You don’t know the others weren’t aboard.”

“Well... no, of course, I didn’t search the boat.”

“And something happened which caused you to get out of there and decide you’d go to the police? Why didn’t you?”

“That’s all,” the sheriff interposed. “Don’t answer that question, Joyner. Don’t answer any more questions. If Trenton isn’t going to make a statement, we’re not going to make any more statements. We’ve accused Rob Trenton of the murder of Harvey Richmond.”

“And that accusation has been denied,” the attorney said.

“Not specifically and categorically.”

“Deny it,” the lawyer said to Rob Trenton. “Deny it specifically and categorically.”

“I deny it,” Trenton said, “specifically and categorically.”

The sheriff jerked a thumb. “Okay,” he said to one of the deputies. “Lock him up. We’ll file murder charges.”