The Case of the Runaway

Chapter 14

By the time court convened at 10:00 A.M. word had passed around that the case of the People of the State of California versus Mynna Davenport was no ordinary preliminary and the courtroom was jammed.

Talbert Vandling grinned at Mason as Mason, accompanied by Paul Drake and Della Street, entered the courtroom.

“Thanks for the tip on Mabel Norge.”

“Did you get her?”

“We nailed her.”

“What’s her story?” Mason asked.

“She hasn’t any.”

“What do you mean?”

“She came here in company with a San Bernardino deputy sheriff. By the time she arrived here she’d decided she wasn’t going to talk. She’s retained an attorney here who advises her to keep quiet.”

“Serve a subpoena on her?” Mason asked.

“Sure.”

“How about Los Angeles?”

Vandling smiled and shook his head. “They’re being very, very coy. They want us to dispose of the matter up here.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go ahead for a while. I can always dismiss. And then, of course, I may have something up my sleeve that I don’t care to disclose to you at the moment since we’re in adversary positions.”

“Why should we be?” Mason asked.

“Because you’re attorney for the defense and I’m attorney for the prosecution.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to convict the murderer of Ed Davenport.”

“So do I.”

“There may be a difference of opinion. You think your client is innocent.”

“Don’t you?”

“Hell, no.”

Mason said, “Give me a little elbow room and I’ll disclose some facts that will startle you.”

“You can have all the elbow room you want.” Vandling said, “as long as you’re disclosing facts.”

“Thanks.”

“Now wait a minute,” Vandling said. “You wouldn’t try to be slipping one over on me, would you?”

Mason shook his head. “I’m trying to get Myrna Davenport acquitted but I want to apprehend the murderer of Ed Davenport.”

Vandling said, “The district attorney in Los Angeles gave me quite a briefing about you. He told me you were tricky, shrewd, diabolically clever, and while he didn’t say in so many words that you were crooked he intimated that you’d cut your grandmother’s throat in order to obtain an advantage for a client.”

“Why not?” Mason asked, grinning. “After all, I’m supposed to represent my clients. Then again you’re not my grandmother.”

Vandling said, “If I can convict your client of this murder, Mason, and I think she’s guilty, I’m going to do it. If you can get her released you’re going to do it. Those things are understood. Otherwise I’m willing to ride along with you.”

Mason said, “I’m accepting your assurance that you don’t want to convict her unless she’s guilty.”

“I don’t.”

“How about riding along and doing some exploring to find out who is guilty?”

“That’s okay by me,” Vandling said. “I told you I was going to take a chance on you, Mason. I’ll co-operate.”

“Here we go,” Mason said. “Here comes the judge.”

Judge Siler entered the courtroom, the bailiff pounded the court to order, the spectators were seated and Mason, leaning across to Vandling, said. “Call Mabel Norge as your next witness. See what she has to say.”

“Will she jerk the rug out from under me?”

The rug’s already been jerked out from under you,” Mason told him. “You’re in the air. It’s just a question of what you fall on that’s going to count.”

“I’d like to fall on my feet.” Vandling said.

“Try calling Mabel Norge.”

Vandling regarded Mason for a moment, then said, “If the Court please, I want to recall Dr. Renault, but I would like to interrupt his testimony for a moment to call another witness.”

“No objection on the part of the defense,” Mason said

Judge Siler merely nodded.

“Call Mabel Norge,” Vandling said.

Mabel Norge reluctantly arose, bent over for a few final words with an attorney who was seated next to her, then marched up to the witness stand and was sworn.

“You were employed by Edward Davenport during his lifetime?” Vandling asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“When did you see him last?”

“On the eleventh.”

“That was Sunday?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where did you see him?”

“In Paradise.”

“And after that what happened?”

“Mr. Davenport was driving to Los Angeles. He left Paradise around noon and intended to drive as far as Fresno that evening.”

“Did Mr. Davenport leave you any final instructions when he left?”

“I don’t know what you mean by final instructions,” she said, hurrying her speech as an indication she was trying to get her story in before she was stopped either by Court or counsel. “Mr. Davenport had left me instructions that in the event of his death I was to see that the contents of an envelope were delivered to the authorities. He told me that his wife was trying to poison him and—”

“Just a minute,” Judge Siler said.

“Yes,” Vandling observed. “What Mr. Davenport may have told you would not be binding on the defendant, unless, of course, the defendant was present at the time.”

“We have no objection,” Mason said. “Let’s get the conversation into the record.”

“For what purpose?” Judge Siler said. “It would be hearsay.”

“I’m not certain,” Mason said, “but that it might come within one of the exceptions to the rule of hearsay evidence. I have no objection.”

Judge Siler hesitated.

“Well,” Vandling said, “I’ll get at it this way, Your Honor. Prior to the last time you saw Mr. Davenport, had he given you an envelope?”

“He had. Yes, sir.”

“And what did you do with that envelope?”

“I placed it in a lockbox in my desk.”

“And did Mr. Davenport give you any instructions in connection with that envelope?”

“Yes, sir. He said that his wife was trying to poison him and that in the event of his death I was to turn this envelope over to the authorities, that his wife had poisoned her cousin and that”

“Now certainly,” Judge Siler said, “this is hearsay.”

“It might be part of the res gestae,” Mason said.

“Res gestae of what?” Judge Siler asked caustically. “This is a most peculiar situation. Counsel for the defendant seems not only willing but anxious to permit the introduction of hearsay evidence damaging to his client, evidence which the Court cannot take into consideration in the case. The Court won’t consider any further evidence as to conversations which took place between the witness and the decedent unless it can be shown that it was in the presence of the defendant.”

“I’d like to cross-examine on it,” Mason said.

Judge Siler shook his head. “The Court is not going to permit the record to be cluttered up with hearsay evidence whether counsel desires it or not. After all, there are certain rules of evidence. The Court thinks that counsel should object to evidence detrimental to his client which is plainly improper as being hearsay.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Mason said.

Vandling glanced at Mason.

Mason grinned back.

“You agreed with Mr. Davenport that you would do certain things in connection with this property upon the happening of certain events?” Vandling continued.

She hesitated a moment, then said, “I don’t think I have to answer that question.”

“Why not?”

An attorney arose from the back of the courtroom. “If the Court please,” he said, “I am representing Miss Norge. I am willing to state certain matters to assist in helping clear up a murder case. I am willing to suggest ideas which we may treat as potential facts, but which my client will not admit under oath.

“I suggest that it may be a fact that Miss Norge, a loyal, competent secretary, was given instructions to do certain things, thinking that by so doing she was helping consummate a mining deal which was of the greatest importance to Edward Davenport.”

“That upon learning of the death of her employer she tried to carry out the last instructions he had given her, but later, having communicated with the district attorney of the county in which she resided, she was advised that under the law all property belonging to the Davenport estate must be impounded for probate.

“Since she felt the widow, who is the defendant in this action, was hostile to her employer’s interests and had poisoned him—please understand I am only relating her sincere feelings which are not evidence in this case—her attitude toward the widow and the widow’s attorneys was non-cooperative.

“Technically some of the things she might have done might have been contrary to statute. I therefore advise her not to answer that question.”

Vandling pursed his lips. “On Monday, the twelfth, you went to the bank at Paradise and made some deposits?”

“I did.”

“And some withdrawals?”

“I did.”

“The withdrawals were in the form of cash?’

“They were.”

“And where is that cash now?”

“My attorney has placed it in a safe-deposit box.”

“Do you claim that cash?”

“I certainly do not.”

“Who owns that?”

“It is a part of Mr. Davenport’s estate, I may state that each deposit that I made and each withdrawal that I made was in accordance with his specific instructions.”

Vandling glanced at Mason.

Mason shook his head.

“That’s all,” Vandling said. “Any cross-examination?”

“Yes,” Mason said. “You have said that everything you did was under instructions given you by Mr. Davenport.”

“That is right.”

“And didn’t Mr. Davenport advise you to take this cash to San Bernardino?”

“Yes.”

“And to await instructions at the Antlers Hotel there?”

“Yes.”

“And to register under the name of Mabel Davenport?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t he advise you that you were to turn this cash over to a certain party no matter what might happen or who might try to stop you or on what ground?”

Mabel Norge’s attorney arose and said, “There again I am forced to advise my client not to answer the question. I will say to the Court and counsel that Mr. Mason’s surmise may well represent a true statement of fact, but I refuse to permit my client to place herself in the position of admitting certain acts or conceding certain facts.”

“That’s all.” Mason said, smiling.

Vandling looked nuzzled

Mason shook his head and said, “I would like to have Dr. Renault recalled for further cross-examination.”

“Take the stand, Dr. Renault.” Judge Siler said.

Mason slowly got up from behind the counsel table, walked over to the witness chair and stood looking down at Dr. Renault.

“Doctor,” he said, “you saw Edward Davenport as a patient on the morning of Monday, the twelfth?”

“I have already stated that several times.”

“And treated him as a patient?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he recited symptoms of arsenic poisoning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You didn’t personally see those symptoms?”

“I saw secondary symptoms which could have been identified with the prior initial symptoms which he described. I didn’t see the primary symptoms which he had described which had taken place in my absence.”

“Very neatly answered, Doctor,” Mason said. “Now let me ask you a question which may cause you a little trouble. Did you also see Edward Davenport on the day preceding—on Sunday, the eleventh?”

Dr. Renault said, “That is beside the question. That doesn’t have any bearing on my professional treatment.”

“Oh yes it does,” Mason said. “You saw Edward Davenport when he was registered at the Welchburg Motel here in Fresno under the name of Frank L. Stanton, didn’t you, Doctor?”

“I—do I have to answer that, Your Honor?” Dr. Renault asked.

Vandling, suddenly on his feet, said, “You certainly do.”

“I’m asking the Court,” Dr. Renault said.

“It is a pertinent question. Answer it,” Judge Siler said.

“I—yes, I saw him.”

“And discussed certain matters with him?”

“I talked with him.”

“And you discussed with him certain treatment that you were to give him the next day, Monday, the twelfth, did you not?”

“I refuse to recount any conversation which took place between my patient and me.”

“Why?”

“It’s a privileged communication.”

“Only to the extent that you had to find out necessary symptoms for the purpose of administering treatment”

“My conversation with Mr. Davenport had to do with certain symptoms.”

“Mr. Davenport told you that he wanted to die, didn’t he?”

“I am not going to mention the conversation I had with Mr. Davenport.”

“Mr. Davenport paid you money in order to set the stage so that apparently he could pass away. It was agreed that he was to call you for treatment the next morning and relate symptoms of arsenic poisoning, that you were to help him simulate a state of collapse following arsenic poisoning so that he could apparently pass away while his wife was present. Isn’t that true?”

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

“You have to answer it,” Mason said. “It doesn’t relate to any confidential communication.”

Vandling, on his feet, said, “If that question is answered in the affirmative it indicates a conspiracy, a crime. It is not a privileged communication, Your Honor.”

“It certainly does not call for a privileged communication,” Judge Siler said.

“Then I don’t have to answer,” Dr. Renault said, “because it would incriminate me.”

“Do you refuse to answer on that ground?” Judge Siler asked.

“I do.”

“This is a most unusual situation,” said the judge.

Mason said, “In accordance with this plan which had been worked out and which you and Davenport had carefully rehearsed, you reported that the man was dead. You reported that you would have to call the authorities. You locked up the cabin but didn’t call the authorities immediately, giving Ed Davenport an opportunity to get out of the window and jump in a car which had been conveniently parked immediately adjacent to the window of the cabin in which he was supposed to have died, and drive to a predetermined rendezvous. There was a house trailer parked at this place. Ed Davenport had the key to that house trailer. It was equipped with new clothing so that he could get rid of his pajamas and dress himself, wasn’t it?”

“I refuse to answer.”

“And,” Mason went on, “he told you that he had been embezzling money from his wife’s separate property, didn’t he? And he said his wife had an officious relative who was constantly insisting that Mrs. Davenport demand an accounting and that the game was about up, that he had juggled many thousands of dollars so that he had them in the form of cash, that if he didn’t disappear he would be detected and prosecuted. Didn’t he tell you that and ask you to help him?”

“I refuse to answer on my constitutional rights.”

“And didn’t he tell you that he had poisoned Hortense Paxton, that the authorities now suspected that her death had been murder and that he felt they would exhume the body, that he wanted to have them think he was dead when that happened and that you were to be paid generously to help him?”

“I refuse to answer.”

“And,” Mason went on, “after Davenport went to that house trailer you gave him some whisky containing cyanide of potassium. You knew that he had suitcases containing a large amount of money which he had been accumulating by a process of juggling the assets of his wife. You gave him that whisky and—”

“I did not. I absolutely did not.” Dr. Renault shouted. “I had no idea what the suitcases contained. And if you’re so smart you had better get the other party to the conspiracy, the one who was going to drive the house trailer over to Nevada for him.”

“You are referring now, I take it, to Jason L. Beckemeyer, a private detective at Bakersfield?”

“I am,” Dr. Renault snapped.

Mason turned to Vandling and said, “And now, Mr. District Attorney, I suggest by mutual consent we continue this case, that Dr. Renault be taken into custody and that a warrant be issued for the arrest of Jason L. Beckemeyer. I think that by the time we get done taking a statement from Dr. Renault we’ll find out what actually happened.”

Vandling was on his feet. “The prosecution wishes to announce its indebtedness to Mr. Perry Mason for his excellent co-operation, and at this time, if the Court please, I move to dismiss the case against the defendant, Myrna Davenport.”