The Case of the Queenly Contestant

Chapter Sixteen

Judge Dean Elwell took his position on the bench, glanced at his court calendar, said, “The case of the People of the State of California versus Ellen Calvert, also known as Ellen Adair, defendant.”

“Ready for the defendant,” Perry Mason said.

Stanley Cleveland Dillon, the chief trial deputy of the district attorney’s office, stood up with impressive dignity.

“We are ready for the people,” he said. “And the people respectfully wish to point out that this is a preliminary hearing solely for the purpose of determining whether a crime has been committed and whether there are reasonable grounds to determine that the defendant has committed that crime.”

Judge Elwell said with some acerbity, “The Court understands the rule of law, Mr. Dillon.”

“I know the Court does,” Dillon said. “But I wanted to point out the position that the prosecution will take when it comes to combating the harassing, delaying tactics which are so much a part of the defense in some of these cases.”

“We won’t go into any personalities,” Judge Elwell ruled. “Call your first witness.”

Stanley Dillon, who prided himself upon having sent more defendants to their deaths than any other trial deputy in the State of California, was visibly annoyed at Judge Elwell’s treatment.

Of late, there had been some criticism that Dillon regarded defendants in criminal cases as so much game to be stalked. Then an irate defense attorney had remarked that if it had been legal Dillon would have disinterred the bodies, mounted the heads of the various defendants whom he had sent to the gas chamber, and had them arranged as trophies in his study.

Criticism of this sort bothered Dillon and caused him to explain that he was only doing his duty as a public servant. He claimed that he took no personal satisfaction whatever in securing verdicts of death in the criminal cases he had prosecuted. He was very conscious of public relations.

Now he was well aware of the crowded courtroom.

Not only had the case attracted much public attention because of newspaper publicity and the issues involved, but the two half brothers of Harmon Haslett, Bruce and Norman Jasper, were present in court, as were “Slick” Garland, the troubleshooter, and Jarmen Dayton, the detective.

Ellen Adair sat beside Mason, still maintaining that air of queenly dignity, divorcing herself as a person from the proceedings in which she was the accused.

“I am, if the Court pleases, going to make this as brief as possible,” Dillon said. “I will call Lieutenant Tragg as my first witness.”

Lieutenant Tragg came forward, took the oath, seated himself comfortably in the witness stand, and gave his name, address and occupation to the clerk.

“I am going to ask you, Lieutenant, very briefly to tell the Court what you found when you were called to a duplex dwelling at 163S Manlay Avenue on the fifth of the month. I will ask you to describe briefly what you found.”

“Very well,” Lieutenant Tragg said. “We found a house with a front door which was closed and locked with a spring lock. The back door, however, was unlocked and partially open. We found a typical duplex bungalow, and in the bedroom of the bungalow, where all windows were closed and locked, we found the body of the occupant of the duplex.”

“Her name, please.”

“Agnes Burlington.”

“What was the condition of the body, Lieutenant?”

“It was clothed in a garter girdle, a bra, stockings and shoes.”

“How was the body lying?”

“Somewhat on its left side, generally in a face-down position.”

“What was the condition of the body medically.”

“The medical examiner can tell you more about that,” Lieutenant Tragg said. “But, generally, rigor mortis appeared to have formed and disappeared. There was postmortem lividity.”

“What did the postmortem lividity indicate?”

“That the body had not been moved after death.”

“You took photographs?”

“We took many photographs, showing the position of the body and the surroundings.”

“Now, when you moved the body, what did you find?”

Lieutenant Tragg knew that he was dropping a bombshell in the lap of the defense. He couldn’t resist glancing at Perry Mason to see how the defense lawyer would take the information.

“We found a thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver under the body.”

Mason jerked bolt upright in his chair. “May I ask the court reporter to read that last answer?” Mason asked.

“Very well,” Judge Elwell ruled.

The court reporter read the answer: “We found a two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver under the body.”

“Was that revolver the fatal weapon?” Dillon asked.

“I object, if the Court pleases,” Mason said. “This calls for a conclusion of the witness, and no proper foundation has been laid for his examination as a ballistics expert; nor has there been any evidence that the decedent met her death by means of a gunshot wound. Therefore, the question assumes facts not in evidence.”

“Oh, if the Court please,” Dillon said, “this is simply an attempt to expedite matters. I suppose that I could ask Lieutenant Tragg as to the cause of death and he could state that it was a bullet wound, but defense counsel would probably object on the ground that I had not qualified him as an autopsy surgeon.”

“Go ahead; ask him,” Mason invited.

“What was the cause of death?” Dillon asked.

“A gunshot wound.”

Dillon said wearily, “At this time I’ll withdraw Lieutenant Tragg from the stand temporarily and put on the autopsy surgeon.”

“Just a minute,” Mason said. “I have a few questions I would like to ask of Lieutenant Tragg on cross-examination before he steps down.”

“You’ll have an opportunity to cross-examine him when I’m finished,” Dillon said irritably.

“But I would like to cross-examine him now as to certain phases of the testimony he has already given. If you are going to ask him to step down from the stand, I think that I have that right,” Mason said.

“All right, all right, all right,” Dillon said testily. “I have no objection.”

Mason said, “You found a gun under the body of the decedent, Lieutenant Tragg?”

“That’s right. Yes, sir.”

“And that gun was a thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the cylinder?”

“The gun was fully loaded.”

“There were no empty cartridges in the cylinder?”

“No.”

“Had the gun been discharged recently?”

“According to the best tests we could make, the gun had not been discharged in some time.”

“And did you make any attempt to trace the registration of that gun?”

“We did. Yes, sir.”

“And who had originally purchased that gun?”

“The decedent, Agnes Burlington, had purchased it some years ago when she was a nurse in San Francisco and was called upon to go home from nursing jobs at various hours of the night.”

“She had permission to carry the weapon?”

“She did when she purchased it and for some years thereafter in San Francisco; but she did not have a permit to carry the gun at the time of her death.”

“This revolver was a thirty-two-caliber?” Mason asked.

“That’s right.”

“Is it possible that the decedent could have met her death with a bullet from that gun and that thereafter someone could have removed the empty cartridge case and inserted a full cartridge in the cylinder?”

Lieutenant Tragg shifted his position on the witness stand, then said, “I would say not.”

“Why?” Mason asked.

“Well, in the first place, I think she was shot with a thirty-eight-caliber revolver. I think we have the murder weapon. In the second place, I don’t think that this thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson had been fired at any time within the last five or six weeks.”

“You recovered the fatal bullet?” Mason asked casually.

“Now, just a minute — just a minute!” Dillon said. “If the Court pleases, I want to object to this on the ground that it is not proper cross-examination. I haven’t as yet gone into the question of the make or the caliber of the gun which inflicted the fatal wound or the whereabouts of the fatal bullet. I have been stopped by Counsel’s objections. Therefore, defense Counsel has no right to cross-examine the witness on these points.”

“Well, if you want to be technical about it, I presume the Court will have to rule with you,” Judge Elwell said. “The objection is sustained.”

“Very well,” Mason said, “that’s all at this time.”

Dillon said, “I will call Dr. Leland Clinton as my next witness.”

Dr. Clinton — a tall, efficient-appearing individual with an air of icy composure — took the witness stand; gave his name, address and occupation; recited his professional qualifications in response to questions laying the foundation to qualify him as an expert; and was then asked if he had performed the autopsy on the body of Agnes Burlington.

“I did. Yes, sir.”

“Now, then, Doctor,” Dillon said, “I don’t want technical terms; I want to know generally the cause of death.”

“The cause of death,” Dr. Clinton said, “was a gunshot wound. A bullet entered the back to the right of the median line, penetrated the very top of the right kidney ranging upward, penetrated the heart, and emerged from the left side of the upper chest. I can, of course, give you the course of the bullet anatomically with—”

“Not at this time, Doctor,” Dillon said. “I don’t care to clutter up the record with a lot of technical terminology unless the defendant should ask for it. The wound inflicted by this bullet, as you have described it, was sufficient to cause death?”

“Yes.”

“Within what length of time?”

“Death was practically instantaneous — a matter of perhaps two or three seconds.”

“Could the decedent have moved after having sustained this wound?”

“Very briefly perhaps, but I doubt if the decedent could have engaged in many physical activities. From a physical standpoint, death was practically instantaneous.”

“Now, then, the course of the bullet was ranging upward.”

“That is right.”

“So the weapon from which the bullet was fired must have been held at a low angle. If the decedent was standing at the time, the murder weapon must have been pressed close to the body at about the level of the waist or a little lower.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may cross-examine,” Dillon said.

“Were there any powder bums on the body of the decedent at the wound of entrance?” Mason asked.

“No.”

“Then the weapon couldn’t have been held close to the body of the decedent.”

“I didn’t say that it had been.”

“Pardon me,” Mason said. “I thought you said in response to a question by the prosecutor that if the body had been in a standing position, the weapon must have been held at about the level of the waist.”

“That is correct,” Dr. Clinton said. “I am assuming, in answering that question, that it relates only to conditions if the decedent had been standing.”

“But if she had been standing, there would have been powder burns?”

“We would have reasonably expected powder burns — depending somewhat on the distance of the murder weapon from the body of the decedent. The murderer could, for instance, have held the weapon at the level of the floor, and there would have been no powder burns. But ordinarily, if the decedent had been in a standing position, there should have been powder burns — that is, we would have expected to find them.”

“Then your assumption is that the decedent was not in a standing position at the time of her death?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“And what could have been her position?”

“Once we eliminate the question of a standing position, she could have been in any position. She could have been on all fours, she could have been lying on the floor, or she could have been lying in bed.”

“Did you find any evidence of contusions indicating that she had been struck or knocked down?”

“No.”

“And the bullet emerged from the upper left chest?”

“That is correct.”

“What about the contents of the stomach. Doctor?” Mason asked.

“Now, just a moment!” Dillon said. “Here again Counsel is anticipating the prosecution’s case. I would like to put on my case in an orderly manner. I haven’t as yet asked this witness anything about the time of death.”

“Well, you’re going to have to come to it,” Judge Elwell said.

“I would like to present the case in an orderly manner — showing first the fact of death, the cause of death, and then the time of death.”

“I don’t think I care to hear the case piecemeal,” Judge Elwell said, “unless there is some particular reason for putting it on in this manner.”

“I can assure the Court that there is a reason,” Dillon said.

“Very well. But that doesn’t prevent Counsel from asking this witness any questions he cares to about the condition of the body; and I will permit questions concerning the contents of the stomach.”

Dillon said, “If the Court is going to permit those questions, I may as well go right ahead and show the time of death.”

“Well, Counsel has asked a question and he’s entitled to an answer,” Judge Elwell said. “The witness will answer the question.”

“The contents of the stomach,” Dr. Clinton said, “showed green peas, scallops, potatoes, and bread.”

“In what state of preservation?” Mason asked. “In other words, how far had digestion progressed?”

“Death had taken place within approximately thirty minutes of the time the meal had been ingested.”

Judge Elwell said, “There was no objection to that question, Mr. Mason; but I think you are probably technically restricted in your cross-examination as to matters which were brought out on direct examination and the physical condition of the body. I understand the prosecutor wants to proceed with evidence showing the time of death.”

“Very well,” Mason said. “Under those circumstances, I have no further cross-examination at this time.”

“All right,” Stanley Dillon said, “I may as well go into the time of death. How long had the decedent been dead before your examination?”

“I would say between twenty-four and thirty-six hours.”

“Could you make it any closer than that?”

“Not from a standpoint of accurate evidence, no. I would be somewhat inclined to fix the time of death as approximately twenty-four hours before the body was discovered.”

“And the body was discovered at about eight-twenty on the evening of the fifth?”

“As to that, I know only by hearsay. I know that I performed my autopsy at seven o’clock on the morning of the sixth; and I would generally fix the time of death as from twenty-four to thirty-six hours previous to my examination.”

“Can you tell whether the body had been moved after death?”

“In my opinion, the body had not been moved after death unless it had been moved almost immediately after the fatal shot had been fired.”

“What causes you to have that opinion, Doctor?”

“Because of postmortem lividity. After death, the blood becomes discolored and settles in the lower part of the body. In other words, after the heart ceases to function, the forces of gravitation take over and the blood has a tendency to settle in the body and become discolored. There was a well-defined postmortem lividity here, indicating that the body had not been moved — unless it was moved very shortly after the fatal wound had been inflicted.”

“I think that’s all at this time,” Dillon said.

“Did you form any opinion as to the caliber of the fatal bullet?” Mason asked.

“These things are very, very tricky,” Dr. Clinton said. “My personal opinion is that the bullet was a thirty-eight-caliber bullet; but the skin is elastic during lifetime and it is difficult without examining the fatal bullet itself to be sure as to its caliber.”

“And there was no fatal bullet in the body?” Mason asked.

“No. The bullet had emerged from the upper left chest, as I stated in my earlier testimony.”

“Thank you, Doctor. That’s all.”

“Now, then, I’ll recall Lieutenant Tragg,” Dillon said.

Tragg again took the stand.

“When did you arrive at 1635 Manlay Avenue, Lieutenant?”

“At eight forty-seven on the evening of the fifth.”

“You made an examination of the premises?”

“I did.”

“Did you meet the defendant there at that time?”

“I did.”

“Did you discuss with her what she had observed and why she had gone there?”

“Generally, yes.”

“And, at that time, your inquiries were simply general. You had not determined upon the defendant as a suspect at that time.”

“That is correct.”

“Did she tell you anything about her time of arrival?”

“She said that she had come there with Mr. Perry Mason and Miss Della Street, Perry Mason’s secretary; that they had found the woman dead and had promptly called police.”

“Did she say anything at any time about having been there earlier?”

“No, sir. She gave us to understand this was her first visit to the place in some time.”

“Did she say anything to you about having taken a diary or any other personal property from the premises?”

“On the contrary, she said they had left things just as they found them.”

“Did you try to develop latent fingerprints?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you able to develop any?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you able to identify any of the latent prints you developed?”

“Yes, sir. There were fingerprints of the decedent, of course; there were fingerprints of some individual who has not been identified; and there were fingerprints of a man named Ralph Corning, who is — so to speak — a boyfriend of the decedent and who had been there earlier in the week but who was out of town on the third, fourth and fifth.”

“Any other fingerprints?”

“Those of the defendant,” the witness said, “and some others that were smudged — but many good fingerprints of the defendant.”

“Where did you find them?”

“Generally, we found them on the bureau drawers, on the doorknob, on the woodwork, on the glass panel of the front door.”

“Inside or outside?”

“Inside. We also found latent fingerprints of the defendant where she had pressed her hands against the glass of the front window.

“I have here a set of photographs all properly identified by markings upon the backs of the pictures, showing the various localities in which we found the fingerprints in question and some enlargements of the fingerprints themselves.”

“Did you at any time, at any place, find a diary which apparently had been kept by the decedent?”

“We did; yes, sir.”

“Where did you find that?”

“We found it in the post office at the General Delivery window on the morning of the sixth.”

“Did you identify it at that time?”

“No, sir; we simply asked for mail that was addressed to the defendant, Ellen Adair. When we found that there was such mail, we secured a search warrant; then we made arrangements with the federal post office authorities and eventually got an envelope open which contained a diary in the handwriting of the decedent.”

“What was the address on that envelope?”

“Ellen Adair, General Delivery.”

“Do you know whose handwriting that was in?”

“I cannot qualify as an expert on handwriting,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “but I have had some experience. The handwriting generally appears to be that of the defendant. I believe it has been submitted to a handwriting expert who will testify later on.”

“You made photographs of the location of the body?”

“We did. Here they are.”

“We ask that all these photographs be introduced in evidence,” Dillon said, “and that the clerk be instructed to give them appropriate exhibit numbers.”

“So ordered,” Judge Elwell said.

“Did you find a revolver in the possession of the defendant?”

“There was a thirty-eight-caliber revolver found in the glove compartment of the defendant’s automobile.”

“Was that revolver loaded?”

“There were five full cartridges and one empty cartridge chamber in the cylinder.”

“No exploded cartridge in that one chamber?”

“No, it was empty. The shell case had been removed.”

“You personally made tests with that gun?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What was your opinion as to when it had been last fired?”

“It had been fired within three days of the time we picked it up.”

“How did you determine that?”

“Chemical analysis of the residue of cartridge primer, residue of gas, condition of the barrel, and the smell of exploded smokeless powder.”

“I think you may inquire on cross-examination,” Dillon said.

Mason said, “There was no bullet found in the body?”

“No, sir.”

“And no bullet found in the room?”

“No, sir.”

“But the bullet had gone entirely through the body of the decedent?”

Lieutenant Tragg, who had evidently been anticipating this series of questions and was fully prepared for them, smiled affably. “Yes, sir. This was one of those cases of which, unfortunately, there are too many — where there is no recovery of the fatal bullet.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mason asked. “What do you mean there are altogether too many such cases?”

Tragg went on glibly with his explanation. “The average cartridge case,” he said, “contains powder which, upon ignition, is used as a propellant. The amount of powder is such that in the average weapon with a barrel of three to five inches the explosive energy is almost all expended in forcing a bullet through the body of a human being, so that quite frequently we find cases where the bullet has gone entirely through the body but has been stopped by the elasticity of the skin when it starts to emerge from the inner tissues and the bullet is trapped just beneath the skin of the decedent.

“At other times there is just enough propellant to push the bullet through the outer skin and then the bullet does not leave the immediate proximity but is trapped within the clothing of the decedent. It either falls out unnoticed in the vehicle which takes the decedent to the morgue or it is spilled out someplace else in the course of transit. Perhaps it may fall unnoticed to the floor of the autopsy room.”

“You say it can be trapped in the clothes,” Mason said.

“Yes, sir.”

“However, in this case,” Mason said, “the decedent was wearing no clothes which could conceivably have trapped a bullet. Is that right?”

“Generally speaking, that is correct,” Tragg said, “but, of course, numerous other things could have happened to the bullet.”

“What, for instance?”

“The bullet could have just emerged from the skin of the upper left chest of the decedent, fallen to the floor, and been kicked around by some of the first people who were on the scene.”

“Officers?” Mason asked.

Tragg said grimly, “I said the first people who were on the scene.”

“And where would the bullet have been kicked to?”

“It could have been kicked under a bureau or under the bed or it could have been picked up.”

“Why would anyone have picked up a fatal bullet?” Mason asked.

Tragg smiled and said affably, “So that it couldn’t be fitted to the fatal gun.”

“That, of course, is surmise on your part,” Mason said.

“You’re asking for surmises,” Tragg told him. “There is also the possibility that the bullet could have been in the pool of coagulated blood which was on the floor and which was scraped up in its entirety and disposed of. The bullet could also have fallen out on the stretcher on which, the body was taken to the car that went to the morgue Then when the body was slid into the wagon the stretcher could have been handled in such a way that the bullet rolled off and fell to the lawn, and since the lawn was soft and muddy the bullet might have been trampled into the ground.”

Mason said, “Was any search made for the bullet after it appeared that it was not in the body?”

Tragg smiled. “We tore everything to pieces inside that room. We looked in every bureau drawer, we shook out every article of clothing that was hanging in the closet, we went through every inch of wall space. We even looked in the upholstery and at the drapes.”

“You say the drapes. Were they pulled?”

“Yes. The decedent was evidently getting ready to take a bath and was undressing at the time of her death. The drapes were drawn, the windows were closed and locked from the inside.”

“What about the ceiling?” Mason said. “If the gun had been held down on the floor and the course of the bullet ranged upward, the bullet might have penetrated the ceiling.”

“We searched that thoroughly,” Tragg said. “We made a very thorough search. We were unable to find the bullet.”

“So you can’t tell that the gun which you found in the defendant’s automobile was the fatal gun?”

“We can’t prove it absolutely — the way we could have if we had recovered the fatal bullet,” Tragg said; “but we are able to prove it by circumstantial evidence. The vacant space in the cylinder from which a cartridge had been removed, the fact that the gun had recently been fired, the fact that the fatal bullet was evidently a thirty-eight-caliber bullet — all of these are circumstances... significant circumstances.”

Mason said, “You have heard the testimony of the autopsy surgeon that the decedent could hardly have moved after the bullet entered her body, that death was practically instantaneous.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet there was a gun found underneath the defendant’s body.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The defendant’s own gun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you in your investigations found how that gun came to be in that position?”

“No, sir; it could have been placed there by someone who took it from a bureau drawer and then pushed it under the body after the decedent met her death.”

“Or conceivably,” Mason said, “the decedent could have been holding it in her hand, pointing it at someone whom she was threatening or someone who had been threatening her, and for the moment had her attention distracted and—”

“And she turned her back,” Tragg supplemented with a grin, “on another person who was holding a thirty-eight-caliber revolver in a threatening position.”

“Exactly,” Mason said.

“I suppose something of that sort is conceivable,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “but I would hardly consider it within the realm of possibility.”

“In this dairy which you recovered,” Mason said, “did you find any significant passages?”

“Lots of them.”

“Anything dealing with the defendant?”

“Yes, there were two entries in which the decedent stated that she had collected from Ellen Adair and that contributions were becoming exceedingly and progressively difficult.”

“That’s all,” Mason said abruptly. “I have no further cross-examination.”

“Call Maxine Edfield to the stand,” Dillon said.

“What is the purpose of this witness?” Judge Elwell asked.

“To show motivation, Your Honor.”

“Very well, I’ll hear this witness,” Judge Elwell said, “but as you yourself pointed out, Mr. Prosecutor, this is just a preliminary hearing for the purpose of determining whether there are reasonable grounds for believing that, first, a crime was committed and, second, the defendant was connected with that crime.

“This is not a hearing before a jury where the prosecution is called upon to prove its case beyond all reasonable doubt; and I may state that, as far as this Court is concerned, the evidence of that diary’s having been removed and mailed in an envelope addressed to the defendant, coupled with the evidence of the gun in the glove compartment of defendant’s car, is sufficient to warrant an order holding the defendant over.”

“I think, if the Court pleases, we would like to either introduce evidence or argue the case,” Mason said.

“I don’t see what there is to argue,” Judge Elwell said. “At this time we aren’t dealing with the credibility of witnesses. The law is that all the testimony of the prosecution is to be taken at its face value for the purpose of this hearing.”

“Am I to be precluded from arguing the case?”

“No, not at all,” Judge Elwell said testily. “I am simply trying to tell you that your argument may not do much good, and I am trying to expedite the hearing. If the deputy prosecutor feels that this witness can show motivation, I will be willing to hear at least some testimony directed to this point.

“Certainly the prosecution doesn’t intend to disclose its entire case at this point — only enough to have an order binding the defendant over for trial in the Supreme Court. You may go ahead, Mr. Prosecutor. Question this witness. What is her name?”

“Maxine Edfield.”

“Very well,” Judge Elwell ruled, “go ahead with your examination.”

Maxine Edfield seemed bursting with a desire to tell her story and, from the first question asked by the prosecutor, launched into a long dissertation.

“Do you,” the prosecutor asked, “know Ellen Adair, the defendant, and, if so, how long have you known her?”

“I know the defendant,” Maxine said. “She is now going by the name of Ellen Adair. When I knew her she was Ellen Calvert, and that is her real name. At that time I was very friendly with her, and she was keeping company with a man by the name of Harmon Haslett, who was the son of Ezekiel Haslett, who was the founder and owner of the Cloverville Spring and Suspension Company.

“At that time she was being intimate with young Haslett, and when he began to cool off she decided to pretend to be pregnant and—”

“Now, just a minute, just a minute!” Judge Elwell interrupted. “I think we’d better go ahead by question and answer and give opposing counsel a chance to object.”

“Let her go, as far as we’re concerned,” Perry Mason said. “I think I can clarify the situation with a few questions on cross-examination, but, as far as her story is concerned, she has told it before and I have heard it. If it will expedite matters to have her tell it now, the defense is perfectly willing.”

“Very well,” Judge Elwell ruled; “there’s a lot of hearsay here.”

“It isn’t hearsay at all,” Maxine Edfield snapped. “I know what I know right from her own lips. She wanted to force Harmon Haslett into marriage, and she talked it over with me in advance.”

“Talked what over with you?” Dillon asked.

“Talked over the fact that she was going to pretend to be pregnant, use the old racket to try and force Harmon to run away with her and get married.”

“She told you this herself?”

“She told me that herself.”

“But it didn’t work, she didn’t get married?” Dillon asked.

“It did not. Harmon Haslett might have fallen for it, but the company had a troubleshooter, a man named Garland — who’s sitting right there in the courtroom — and Mr. Garland put a thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills in an envelope and sent it—”

“Now wait a minute,” Dillon interrupted. “You don’t know what Garland did of your own knowledge.”

“Well, I know that she got the thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and right at that tune young Harmon Haslett took a quick trip to Europe; and there Ellen Calvert was, left with a broken romance, a series of disappointments in her personal career, and a thousand dollars in cash. So she moved west and started over again.”

“Did you hear from her after she left?” Dillon asked.

“I never heard a word from her.”

“How did you happen to get in touch with her again?”

“Through Mr. Lovett, the lawyer.”

“That is Mr. Lovett, sitting here in court?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what happened?”

“He started trying to trace Ellen Calvert and started looking back into her record to find the people she had known. He found that she had been very friendly with me at one time and came to me and asked me about her.”

“And he told you where she was?”

“Yes; he had found her by using detectives, I believe.”

“In any event, he brought you here to Los Angeles?”

“Yes.”

“You may inquire,” Dillon said.

“When did you first see the defendant after you arrived in Los Angeles?” Mason asked.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “I know what you’re trying to get at. I made a wrong identification. After all, I hadn’t seen Ellen for twenty years and you had a ringer, a woman who was almost the spitting image of Ellen. You planted her on me so I made a wrong identification. But that was all that was wrong about my testimony. I just made a mistake about that woman. I thought she was Ellen Calvert, or Ellen Adair, as she calls herself now. But the minute I saw the real Ellen I was absolutely certain. I simply couldn’t have been mistaken with her — but the way I was brainwashed on that identification, I did make a mistake with the first person I saw. But that was a deliberate plant and, anyway, all that was wrong was the identification. That didn’t affect in any way the things that had happened twenty years ago or the things that Ellen had told me.”

Judge Elwell said, “Even making allowances for the fact that this is a preliminary examination and that there is no objection on the part of counsel for either side, it seems to me that this witness is unduly garrulous and that it might be better to restrict the examination to question and answer.”

“That’s what I am doing. I’m answering questions,” Maxine Edfield said. “But I know what he’s going to try to do. He’s going to try to discredit me because he ran this ringer in on me and I identified her. And then he trapped me into making the identification absolutely positive when, actually, I only felt the woman I had identified as Ellen was Ellen. I wasn’t completely sure of it.”

“But you said you were sure?” Mason asked.

“All right, I said I was sure, and I said I was just as certain of my identification as of any other part of my testimony. You trapped me. That’s an old lawyer’s trick. I know now because Mr. Lovett told me. But I didn’t know it at the time. I hadn’t had any experience with lawyers.”

Judge Elwell said, “I’m going to ask the witness to just answer questions and stop — just answer what is required in order to give the information requested.”

“Your expenses were paid by Mr. Lovett?” Mason asked.

“Yes, they were. Mr. Lovett came to me all open and aboveboard, and he wanted me to come out here with him, and I told him I was a working girl, and he said he would take care of my expenses.”

“And he gave you money to cover expenses?”

“He gave me some money, yes.”

“And you used that to pay expenses?”

“Well, some of them, and some of them he paid.”

“You came with Mr. Lovett on the plane?”

“Yes.”

“Who purchased the ticket for your transportation?”

“Mr. Lovett.”

“When you came here you went to a hotel.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Lovett is staying at that same hotel.”

“Yes, he is.”

“And who is paying the hotel bill at that hotel?”

“Why, Mr. Lovett, I suppose.”

“And what about meals?”

“I either sign for meals in the hotel restaurant or I have my meals with Mr. Lovett or sometimes they are sent up to my room.”

“Then how much actual expenses have you paid from the money Mr. Lovett gave you?”

“Well... just incidental expenses.”

“How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you kept an account?”

“Not a detailed account.”

“And what are the incidental expenses?”

“Oh, little things that you can’t charge — newspapers, beauty parlors, and little things like that.”

“You haven’t paid out fifty dollars in incidental expenses, have you?”

“Well, perhaps not.”

“You haven’t paid out twenty-five dollars.”

“Perhaps not.”

“You haven’t paid out ten dollars.”

“Well, perhaps not, but it probably is around that vicinity somewhere.”

“And how much money did Mr. Lovett give you for expenses?”

“I don’t know that has anything to do with it. That’s a private matter between Mr. Lovett and me.”

“How much money did Mr. Lovett give you for expenses?”

Maxine Edfield turned to Judge Elwell. “Do I have to answer that question?”

“I think it’s a proper question. I have heard no objection to it. I think the prosecution considers it as proper cross-examination.”

“All right,” she blazed. “If you have to know, he gave me five hundred dollars.”

“Five hundred dollars for incidental expenses,” Mason said.

“Yes, that’s right,” she flared. “I had to leave my job and come out here.”

“You got a leave of absence from your job, didn’t you?”

“Well, I had a vacation coming.”

“How much of a vacation?”

“Two weeks.”

“And did Mr. Lovett arrange with your employer to extend your two-week vacation if necessary?”

“I don’t know what he did. I know I’m out here on my own on a vacation.”

“Then you are getting paid for your time out here?”

“All right, I’m entitled to it. If I want to spend my vacation out here, that’s my business.”

“Now, then,” Mason said, “did Mr. Lovett offer you some sort of a bonus in case he was successful in his contention and in case your testimony was instrumental in winning his case?”

“He did not!”

“Didn’t he tell you that if your evidence stood up in court his clients would be—”

“Well, that’s different,” she said. “That’s something else again. You asked me about Mr. Lovett.”

“But Mr. Lovett told you that his clients would be grateful?”

“Something like that.”

“Very grateful?”

“Well, they certainly should be. There’s a two-million-dollar estate involved, and they couldn’t ever have found out the truth if it hadn’t been for me and what Ellen told me.”

Mason said, “You say there’s a two-million-dollar estate involved?”

“That’s right. Ezekiel Haslett, Harmon Haslett’s father, died and left all of the stock in the Cloverville Spring and Suspension Company to Harmon. Then Harmon was on a yachting trip and the yacht was wrecked and there have been no survivors. There are two half brothers, Bruce and Norman Jasper, and I believe there’s some funny sort of a will in which Harmon Haslett stated that he had reason to believe he might be the father of an illegitimate child and if that was the case he left all of his estate to the illegitimate child.

“Now, that’s what you were going to try to drag out of me on cross-examination,” the witness said defiantly. “Now I’ve told you all I know, and I’ve told you the truth.”

The witness got up, preparing to leave the witness stand.

“Just a moment, just a moment,” Mason said. “I haven’t yet come to the point I wanted to bring out. Were you acquainted with Agnes Burlington in her lifetime?”

The witness dropped back into the witness stand, glared at Mason, averted her eyes, looked back at Mason, and said defiantly, “I had met her, yes.”

“When did you meet her?”

“I met her on the evening of the third.”

“Where?”

“At her duplex home.”

“And how did you happen to go there?”

“Now, just a minute, just a minute,” Dillon interrupted. “This is all news to the prosecution, and I object to it on the ground that it is not proper cross-examination. We did not bring out anything whatever about the relations of this witness with Agnes Burlington, and I think this part of the testimony is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

“Well, I don’t,” Judge Elwell snapped. “If this witness, with her interest in the case, knew Agnes Burlington, I’d like to find out about it, and I’d like to find out what Agnes Burlington had to do with the case.”

“Answer the question,” Mason said.

“All right,” Maxine Edfield said defiantly. “Mr. Lovett had detectives who had told him about Agnes Burlington, who had been a nurse in a hospital in San Francisco and had been in attendance at a time when a baby boy, who is now named Wight Baird, was born.

“Well, I heard that Ellen was going to rely on this Agnes Burlington to establish her fraudulent claim against the estate of Harmon Haslett.

“Well, I went to see her because I knew that anything she would testify to would be completely false. I wanted to tell her unmistakably and plainly right from the start that I knew Ellen Calvert had been just using the old razzle-dazzle on Harmon Haslett in order to make him think he was going to be a father.”

“And you saw Agnes Burlington?”

“I saw her.”

“Did you get anywhere with her?”

“I told her frankly that if she testified to the fact that Ellen Calvert had had a child, I could prove she was a liar.”

“What else?”

“That was all. She virtually threw me out, told me to mind my own business. The whole interview didn’t take over ten minutes — but I warned her: I told her she could be convicted of perjury if she swore to those lies.”

“What did she say to that?”

“Just told me to get out.”

“I have no further question,” Mason said.

“That’s all,” Dillon said, “and that concludes the testimony of the prosecution, except that I want to formally introduce in evidence the thirty-eight-caliber revolver which the police found in the glove compartment of the defendant’s car.”

Judge Elwell said, “I think there is no question that the circumstantial evidence here is sufficient to bind the defendant over. However, if Mr. Mason has any testimony...”

Mason arose deferentially. “If the Court pleases,” he said, “I would like to call Mr. Paul Drake as my first witness.”

“Very well. Mr. Drake, come forward and be sworn.”

Mason examined Paul Drake. “Your name is Paul Drake. You are a duly licensed private detective and have, from time to time, been employed by me in connection with cases?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now I am going to ask you if, pursuant to my instructions, you found out where the decedent, Agnes Burlington, was accustomed to buying her groceries.”

“I did; yes, sir.”

“Directing your attention to the evening of the fourth of this month, do you know where Agnes Burlington purchased groceries?”

“On the late afternoon of the fourth,” Paul Drake said, “Agnes Burlington purchased a frozen dinner at the Sunrise Special Supermarket, which is approximately two blocks from where she lived.”

“Do you know what she purchased at that time?”

“I know only because of hearsay through talking with a Miss Donna Findley, who is one of the checkers at the market.”

“Very well,” Mason said; “I will ask you to step down and I will call Miss Donna Findley as my next witness.”

Donna Findley, an attractive young woman in her early twenties, took the witness stand, was sworn, and gave her name and occupation.

“Were you acquainted with Agnes Burlington in her lifetime?” Mason asked.

“I was. I was quite friendly with her — that is, in a business way.”

“What do you mean by in a business way?”

“I am a checker at the Sunrise Special Supermarket and Agnes Burlington bought groceries there quite frequently. She would usually check out at my counter, and we’d talk for a minute while I was adding up the total.”

“Do you remember an occasion on the evening of the fourth?”

“Very well,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Agnes bought a loaf of bread, a bar of butter, a carton of milk, and a frozen dinner, of the kind known as the TV Special.”

“Do you know what was in the TV Special Dinner?”

“It was a scallop dinner, containing scallops, green peas, mashed potatoes, and a special sauce for the scallops.”

“How do you happen to remember that?” Mason asked.

“We talked, and I asked her what she was eating that night, and she told me she was having one of the scallop dinners — that she had them from time to time and they were very nice.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “You may inquire.”

“Just this one particular evening,” Dillon asked sarcastically, “you talked with Agnes Burlington about what she was going to eat?”

“No, I talked with her many times. Agnes lived by herself, and she used quite a bit of frozen food.”

“You remember this was the fourth?”

“Very clearly, because I remember that I didn’t see her on the fifth, and then on the sixth I heard about her death.”

“What time was this on the fourth?”

“About five-thirty in the evening, perhaps a quarter to six.”

“How do you fix the time?”

“I am off duty at eight o’clock and — well, I know generally what time it was.”

“You can’t fix the time accurately?”

“Not accurately. I know it was before eight o’clock on the evening of the fourth, and I would say it was about two hours or two hours and a half before I left work.”

“No further question,” Dillon said.

Mason said, “If the Court pleases, I would like to find out from Lieutenant Tragg if any search was made of the garbage or trash can of the Agnes Burlington duplex.”

“For what purpose?” Judge Elwell asked.

“To show that the empty carton in which this dinner of scallops, green peas, and mashed potatoes had been contained was found in the garbage.”

“That wouldn’t prove anything,” Dillon said. “Of course it was in the garbage. We now know that she bought a frozen dinner. We know the dinner was in her stomach. Therefore, the container must have been in the garbage. But we don’t know when the dinner was consumed.”

“The assumption would be that it was consumed that night. She told the witness. Donna Findley, that she was going to have it that night,” Mason said.

“And she could have changed her mind,” Dillon retorted. “But it doesn’t make any real difference, anyway, because the mere fact that she was killed within a couple of hours after ingesting that dinner doesn’t mean a thing.”

“It does when one considers it in connection with the water which had been running,” Mason said. “The water was left running all night.”

“So what?” Dillon asked.

“So,” Mason said, “when the defendant’s car left tracks in the driveway it was at a time when the water had been running for many, many hours, indicating that Agnes Burlington was unable to turn off the water because she had been killed.”

“It doesn’t mean any such thing,” Dillon said. “That’s an elaborate, finespun theory. For all we know, that driveway could have been wet for several days or several nights. The autopsy surgeon says that death probably took place on the evening of the fourth, so all Mason is doing is dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on the prosecution’s testimony.”

“The defense has an interesting theory here,” Judge Elwell said, “but I don’t think it can have any influence upon a committing magistrate. I can see where this theory could be worked into a very interesting interpretation of circumstantial evidence to be placed in front of a jury — and, of course, the rule of circumstantial evidence is that if there is any reasonable hypothesis other than that of guilt on which the circumstantial evidence can be logically explained, the jury is required to adopt that hypothesis and bring in a verdict of acquittal, if the case is founded entirely upon circumstantial evidence.

“However, that is neither here nor there as far as this Court is concerned. This Court is called upon only to determine whether a crime has been committed and whether there are reasonable grounds to connect the defendant with the crime.”

Mason arose. “May I ask the indulgence of the Court?”

“Go ahead,” Judge Elwell said, “but please don’t argue the circumstantial evidence, because I don’t think it has any place in this Court. It would seem that the evidence now before the Court is such that the defendant must be bound over.”

Mason said, “I have not been given an opportunity to make a detailed inspection of the premises. I would like to have the case continued until I can make such a detailed inspection.”

“For what purpose?”

“The fact that the fatal bullet was never found is indicative of the fact that something may have been overlooked.”

Dillon said sarcastically, “Do you expect you can find something which was overlooked by the police?”

“I can try,” Mason said. “At least I should have the right.”

Judge Elwell hesitated for a few moments, then said, “It would seem to me that the request is reasonable. The defense cannot uncover any evidence which would be persuasive as far as this Court is concerned; but, on the other hand, it is quite possible that there is evidence which might be of tremendous importance in connection with a jury trial.”

Dillon said, “We object to it, Your Honor. The defendant, accompanied by the defendant’s attorney and his secretary, saw the premises when they discovered the body of the decedent.”

“And were careful not to touch anything but notified the police right away,” Judge Elwell said. “Now the body has been removed and supposedly all of the evidence has been uncovered, and it would certainly seem that the defendant’s attorney is entitled to make a detailed inspection of the premises.”

“We object to it,” Dillon said.

“Why do you object to it, Mr. Prosecutor?”

“Because Counsel is well known for being ingenious and his methods are unconventional.”

“What could he possibly do at this late date?” Judge Elwell asked.

“Suppose he took a revolver with him and found some obscure corner of the room, or perhaps a louver in a ventilator, and fired a bullet and then claimed that this was evidence which had been overlooked by the police?”

“That is tantamount to an accusation of unprofessional conduct,” Judge Elwell said.

“I am making no accusations, but I may say that the police are not finished with the premises as yet.”

“Why not?” Mason asked. “Do you think there is further evidence which hasn’t been uncovered?”

“I don’t know,” Dillon said, “but, as you yourself have remarked, the fact that there is no evidence of the fatal bullet might be significant. Therefore, the police have sealed up the premises just as they found things. We would like to keep them intact, at least until after this hearing.”

Judge Elwell said, “I’m going to make this suggestion. The Court wants to look at the premises to see if there is any possibility that a hole made by the fatal bullet could have been overlooked. From the angle of the shot, it is possible to find that bullet almost anywhere — even in the ceiling.”

“The police have looked in the ceiling. They have looked everywhere,” Dillon said.

“Then there is no reason why the premises should be kept sealed up,” Judge Elwell remarked.

“This Court is going to take a two-hour recess. During that time we will go to the premises and inspect them. The defendant’s attorney will be given every opportunity to inspect the premises, and I would like to have the prosecutor and Lieutenant Tragg present during the inspection so that the Court can question them.

“The Court will also ask the Court reporter to be in attendance and take down anything that is said.”

“Such an inspection can’t do any good,” Dillon protested.

“Well, can it do any harm?” Judge Elwell asked.

Dillon started to say something, then changed his mind.

“It is so ordered,” Judge Elwell said. “Court will take a recess and reconvene at the scene of the murder. We will ask the sheriff’s office to furnish transportation.”