The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret

Chapter Twenty

Perry Mason said, “Now, Mrs Bancroft, if you’ll just sit down here behind this table facing the representatives of the press, I’m going to ask you to tell your story.”

Bancroft tugged at Mason’s sleeve. “Mason,” he said in a whisper, “do you think this is wise? To me it seems suicidal.”

“I think it’s wise,” Mason said. “It may be suicidal, but it’s a calculated risk.”

The lawyer turned to Mrs Bancroft. “Now, go right ahead, Mrs Bancroft. I’m going to ask you a few preliminary questions first... You were being blackmailed by Gilly?”

“Yes. I had paid him the sum of one thousand dollars.”

“When?”

“About the eighth, I think it was.”

“I’m going to ask you to avoid telling what the blackmail was about, but I am going to ask you this. Was it because of anything you had done?”

“No.”

“It was because of some information which he threatened to release, which you felt would affect the happiness of other people?”

“That’s right.”

“Now then, after you had paid Gilly this money, when did you next see him?”

“Aboard my yacht, the Jinesa, on the tenth.”

“You had been aboard the yacht previously with someone else?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“With Irwin Victor Fordyce.”

“You had taken him down to the yacht?”

“Yes.”

“And he was the young man that Drew Kirby had seen with you that night?”

“Oh now, just a minute, just a minute,” Robley Hastings interposed. “I’m here representing the press but I don’t like to have you lead the witness into all these statements. You couldn’t do it in court and I don’t think you should do it here.

“I now see why you have staged this elaborate press interview. It’s so you can put words in the witness’ mouth.”

Mason said, “You’re here as a representative of the press, not as the district attorney. I’m conducting this interview in my own way. Now sit down and shut up.”

“As a representative of the press I don’t have to either sit down or shut up,” Hastings said.

“All right,” Mason said, “I’m running the show. I’m giving the conditions under which Mrs Bancroft will tell her story. How about it, gentlemen, do you want her to go ahead and tell it my way, or do you want to have the interview called off because the district attorney, who is here masquerading as a representative of the press, thinks that my questions are irregular?”

A chorus of voices said, “No! No! Handle it your way. We want the story. We’d like to question her afterwards.”

“You can question her all you want afterwards,” Mason said, “but she’s going to tell her story under conditions which are fair to her. And she isn’t going to be browbeaten by the district attorney, nor am I going to be browbeaten by him.”

“Let her go ahead,” one of the reporters said.

“I still protest,” Hastings said. “I—”

“Shut up, Hastings!” one of the newspaper reporters interrupted. “You keep on talking and you’re going to kill a hell of a good story. Now shut up!”

“How dare you talk to me that way?” Hastings asked.

“I dare to talk to you that way because I’m a working newspaperman. I’m a representative of an out-of-town newspaper but still in the county. My rag fought against you when you were running for office and we’re going to fight against you when you run for office again. In the meantime you’re not going to kill a good story with a lot of courtroom technicalities.”

Hastings started to say something, then subsided into silence.

“Now then, go on, tell us what happened,” Mason said to Mrs Bancroft. “What were you trying to do with Fordyce? Why did you take him down to the yacht club?”

“Because I wanted him to take our yacht and go to Catalina in it.”

“Why?”

“I wanted him where Gilly couldn’t find him.”

“And why did you want him where Gilly couldn’t find him?”

“Because I thought Gilly had... well, I thought Gilly wasn’t to be trusted. I thought Gilly would try to find him and get information from him and use that information against me and against people I care for.”

“All right, what happened?” Mason said.

“I wanted to get some money for him. I didn’t have very much money in my purse, so I went to some friends who I knew kept cash on hand. I’m not going to mention their names but they cashed a three-thousand-dollar cheque for me. They don’t want to be brought into this and it’s very understandable why they don’t.”

“Why don’t they?” Mason asked.

“Because they keep several thousand dollars in cash in the house all the time and if that word got around it would simply make them a target for holdups.”

“That’s very understandable,” Mason said. “Now, what happened? You got the money and rowed back to the boat. What happened when you got aboard?”

“The motor was running, idling. I tied up the dinghy and boarded the boat and went down to the cabin. Then I saw this figure up in the bow, pulling in the anchor chain. I thought that it was Fordyce. I switched on a light in the cabin. The man at the bow of the boat saw the light, made a half-hitch of the anchor chain around the bitt in the bow of the boat, turned and came back to the cabin.

“Before he entered the cabin he had engaged the clutch and the boat was running forward at slow speed, dragging an undetermined amount of anchor chain.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“It was then I realized that this man was not Fordyce, but was Gilly. I asked him where Fordyce was, I asked him what he had done with Fordyce, and he made no answer.”

“What was the weather?” Mason asked.

“There was a heavy fog.”

“And the boat was running in this fog?”

“Yes.”

“Apparently on any course, or just aimlessly?”

“Apparently on some course which this man had set.”

“What happened?”

“I became frightened. I started backing up and he moved slowly toward me. I asked him again where Fordyce was and he started for me with his hands outstretched as though he intended to choke me.”

“Now, that’s a conclusion,” Hastings said. “You don’t know that he intended to choke you.”

“Shut up!” the out-of-town reporter said. “We’ll question her after she gives her story.”

Mrs Bancroft said, “Well, he certainly looked as though he intended to choke me. He had his hands outstretched and his attitude was menacing in the extreme.”

“What did you do?” Mason asked.

She said, “I was frightened stiff. Then I remembered that I had a gun in my purse.”

“What gun?”

“My husband’s gun.”

“Where did you get that?”

“From a dresser by the side of the bed. The gun was always kept in a drawer in that dresser.”

“And what did you do with it?”

“I pulled it out and pointed it at him and said he was to stop.”

“Was the gun cocked?”

“It was a six-shooter and I cocked it; I knew enough to do that.”

“How did you know enough to do that?”

“Because my husband wanted me to know how to shoot in case of necessity. When we were up at the mountain cabin he always had me shoot several shots at a target there.”

“With this gun?”

“With this same gun.”

“All right,” Mason said, “what happened?”

“The man hesitated a moment, then he started for me again and I was paralysed with fright.

“At that particular moment the dragging anchor struck on the bottom and brought the boat to an abrupt halt; that is, it gave the boat a momentary jar and... I have no conscious recollection of pulling the trigger, but the jar caused me to lose my balance and I did pull the trigger.”

“And what happened?”

“I shot him.”

“Where?”

“Right in the chest.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s where the gun was pointed when it went off and he fell forward.”

“What did you do?”

“Even while he was falling I was running. I dashed to the side of the boat and jumped overboard.”

“Why did you jump overboard?”

“Because I was frightened.”

“What were you frightened of?”

“Of Willmer Gilly.”

“But if you had just shot him and he was dead, why were you frightened of him?”

“I... I don’t know. I guess I... I guess at the time I wasn’t certain I had killed him. I just wanted to get off the boat.”

“What happened to the gun?”

“I’m not certain. I was fumbling, trying to get it back in the purse when I jumped. I think I heard it hit the deck and then splash into the water.”

“And where was the purse?”

“On my arm. That is, I had the strap around my wrist.”

“You don’t know that you took the gun overboard with you?”

“I think I did. I tell you, I think I remember hearing it hit on the deck and then splash.”

“And your purse?”

“I know I lost my purse when I went overboard because it was on my wrist when I jumped and it slid off.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went in over my head and started swimming and then of course tried to get my bearings. Then I saw a light on the shore and started for shore.”

“How far did you swim?”

“Only a few strokes, and then I thought the water might be shallow and put my feet down and sure enough the water wasn’t much over my waist. I was able to wade along on the bottom.”

“And then what did you do?”

“I waded ashore.”

“Did you know where you were when you got ashore?”

“I knew where I was before I got ashore.”

“How?”

“There was a wharf near the boat and I recognized it.”

“What kind of a wharf?”

“It was a wharf where they sell oil and gasoline. It is the wharf that’s only about two or three hundred yards from the parking station at the yacht club.”

“Is it the first gasoline wharf to the north of the yacht club?”

“Yes.”

“How close was the boat to that?”

“Well, Mr Mason, I guess, as I think back on it, the tide was coming in, and after the anchor struck something solid and held, the boat started to swing with the incoming tide, and it had swung toward the wharf — I don’t think I was over thirty or forty feet from the wharf when I went in the water. I was within twenty or thirty feet of the wharf when I recognized it. By that time I was just wading ashore.”

“And what did you do?”

“I walked to the parking lot. I keep the keys to my automobile under the floor mat because sometimes I’ve forgotten my purse or lost the car keys, so I got the car keys out from under the mat and started the car.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I drove home. I got out of my wet clothes and... well, I told my husband what had happened.”

“And what did he do?”

“He said that I was completely hysterical, that it would be a bad thing for me to get in touch with the police at that time, particularly until we knew what had happened, that he was going to go down and look at the boat and see if I had actually killed Gilly and if so he would notify the police.

“He prevailed on me to take some pills. They were very strong pills that had been given him as a sedative because of very painful symptoms which sometimes came on him unexpectedly in the middle of the night. He had those pills in reserve. And he gave me a double dose to quiet me.”

“And what happened?”

“I was nervous for a while, then the pills began to take effect. I felt deliciously warm and relaxed, and the next thing I knew it was just about daylight and my husband was standing over me and said, ‘Phyllis, take this water and swallow this pill.’”

“What did you do?”

“I woke up enough to take another pill.”

Mason turned to the newspapermen. “There you are, gentlemen,” Mason said. “There’s the story. Now, if you have a brief period of questioning, my client will try to answer your questions.”

One of the newspapermen said, “What time was this; that is, when you fired the shot?”

Mrs Bancroft faced him frankly. “I think the coroner was probably right as to the time of death,” she said. “It was right around nine o’clock.”

“Do you mean to tell me you hadn’t seen Gilly prior to that time on that day?” Hastings asked.

“I had not seen him. I was trying to avoid him. It came as a distinct surprise to me to find him aboard the yacht.”

“A likely story,” Hastings said.

“Suppose you let us do the talking,” the out-of-town newspaperman said. “I want to get the facts of this story. Can you tell us something about the reason you wanted this man, Fordyce, to live aboard your boat, Mrs Bancroft?”

She said, “Fordyce was... Well, he was in a position where... No, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that without disclosing something I don’t want to disclose.”

“Did the blackmail have something to do with Fordyce?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that question.”

“You’d paid him a thousand dollars — this man, Gilly?”

“Yes.”

“And your daughter, Rosena, had paid three thousand dollars?”

“My daughter had not confided in me exactly what had happened, but I do happen to know that she also was being blackmailed.”

“Over the same thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then this subject of blackmail was something that affected her happiness as well as your own?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that.”

One of the other newspapermen said, “Do you know where your husband went after you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“He told you he was going down to the boat?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have any talk with him afterwards about whether he had been aboard the boat?”

“Yes. He said he drove down and couldn’t find the boat. He said that he walked out on the wharf. There was a thick pea-soup fog but I had told him that with the incoming tide the boat would be close enough to the wharf so he could see it. In fact, it would have been within... oh, I think ten or fifteen feet of the wharf by the time the tide had swung it around on the anchor.”

“He said he couldn’t see it?”

“Yes.”

“He admitted to you, however, that he went down to the bay after you became unconscious.”

“Yes.”

“And tried to find the boat?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that, that he went down?” Hastings asked.

“I don’t know, but I do know that it was around ten o’clock when I got home and got out of my wet clothes, and after I had told him my story — I guess it must have been ten-thirty or quarter of eleven before I went to sleep.”

“And your husband was with you until you went to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” Hastings said to the newsmen, “since the time of death was fixed at around nine o’clock it would have been impossible for her husband to have taken over and been the one who fired the fatal shot, which I think is the idea Perry Mason is trying to implant in your minds.”

The newspapermen looked at each other.

One of the men said, “I have some more questions but they can keep. This story won’t keep. I want to get it on the wires before I’m scooped.”

“You said it,” one of the other men said. “Let’s go.”

They went pell-mell out of the law library, leaving Hastings, the district attorney, behind.

“I have a few more questions,” Hastings said.

“Don’t you want to get your story on the wire?” Mason asked, smiling.

“No,” Hastings said, “not yet. I want to get some more information.”

Mason smiled at him and said, “Under the circumstances, Mr Hastings, I think your devotion to your occupation as district attorney of this county is more deep seated, loyal and sincere than your devotion to the paper which has temporarily given you a press card so that you could attend this conference.

“I wish to inform you that the interrogation period is over and Mrs Bancroft is not going to answer any more questions.”

Hastings turned to Bancroft and said, “How about you? You went down to the wharf and—”

“Don’t misunderstand us,” Mason said. “This is a press conference to hear the story of Mrs Bancroft. Her husband is not making any statement.”

Hastings said, “This is the same old run-around. You’re going to try to make it appear that her husband went down to the wharf, that there were two guns, that he was the one who shot Gilly and you’ll try to get Mrs Bancroft off and then when we try the husband you’ll make it appear that Mrs Bancroft was the one who fired the shot. As far as I’m concerned, your story crucifies her right now.

“And if she wants to claim self-defence, just let her try and explain why she didn’t notify the police right away.”

“Because,” Mason said, “she didn’t want to expose the matter which had been used as a means of blackmail. She didn’t want to have the police interrogating her about the subject of blackmail and about why she had taken Fordyce down to the yacht in the first place.”

Hastings said, “Let her tell that story on the witness stand where I’ve got an opportunity to cross-examine her and I’ll rip her story to shreds — and when she tries to tell that story, don’t think the Court will let you stand around and put words in her mouth. She’ll tell it according to the rules of evidence, the same as any other witness.

“As far as I’m concerned, this thing has been just a dress rehearsal and an attempt on your part to influence the press into giving her a sympathetic sob-sister background.

“I challenge you to put her on the witness stand tomorrow and let her tell that same story.”

“You prepare your case and I’ll prepare mine,” Mason said. “The press conference is over.”