The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

“These photographs were all taken by you on the premises and all show the condition of the premises as they were at the time you arrived on the scene, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Now you not only acted as photographer, but you also saw the things you photographed?”

“Naturally.”

“And, therefore, are a witness to the things you saw?”

“Yes, sir. I so consider myself.”

“These photographs, then, may be used to refresh your memory as to what you found at the scene of the crime.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I direct your attention to this photograph,” Mason said, handing the witness one of the photographs, “and ask you if you noticed an agateware container in the bathtub. I believe this photograph shows it.”

“I did, yes, sir. It was a two-quart container and was lying submerged in the bathtub.”

“There were two goldfish in the bathtub?”

“Yes, sir.”

“On the floor were three magazines — I believe they are shown in this photograph?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you notice the dates on those magazines?”

“I did not, no, sir.”

Medford said, “As a matter of fact, your Honor, those magazines were carefully marked for identification and are in the possession of the prosecution, but I certainly hope that counsel is not seriously contending that those magazines have any bearing on the murder of Harrington Faulkner.”

Mason said gravely, “I think, your Honor, those magazines will prove a very interesting and perhaps a vital link in the evidence.”

“Well, we won’t waste time arguing about them. We’ll produce them,” Medford said.

“Do you know which magazine was on top?” Mason asked.

“I’m sure I don’t,” Medford said. “And I don’t know which goldfish was lying with his head facing south and which one was lying with his head facing south-southeast. As far as I am concerned, the police investigated the important angles of the case, and as a result of that investigation, reached a conclusion which is so logical it can’t be questioned. That’s all I know and that’s all I want to know.”

“So it would seem,” Mason said dryly.

Medford flushed.

Judge Summerville said to Mason, “Do you contend that the position of the magazine is significant?”

“Very,” Perry Mason said. “And I think if counsel will produce those magazines, we can examine the photographs with a magnifying glass and tell the relative position of those magazines. We can certainly tell which one was on top. This photograph which I hold in my hand shows that rather plainly.”

“All right,” Medford said, “we’ll produce the magazines.”

“Do you have them in court?”

“No, your Honor, but I can produce them after lunch, if the Court wishes to take its noon recess at this time.”

“Very well,” Judge Summerville ruled. “The Court will take a recess until two o’clock this afternoon.”

Spectators, arising from the court benches, made the usual confused sounds of shuffling steps and low voiced comments. Sally Madison, without a word to Perry Mason, arose from her chair and stood waiting calmly for the officers to escort her from the courtroom.

17

Mason, Della Street and Paul Drake sat at lunch in a little restaurant near the courthouse where they ate frequently when trials were in progress. The proprietor knew them and kept reserved for them a small private dining room.

Paul Drake said, “You’re doing okay, Perry. You’ve got Judge Summerville interested.”

“It’s a break for us that we drew Judge Summerville,” Mason admitted. “Some judges like to get preliminary hearings over with as quickly as possible. They adopt the position that there’s nothing very much to worry about because the defendant is going to have a trial before a jury anyway, so go ahead and bind ’em over and let it go at that. Judge Summerville has different ideas. He realizes that the function of the courts is to protect the rights of citizens at all stages of the proceedings, and believes that the function of the police is to investigate and perpetuate evidence while it’s fresh. I happen to know from talking with him off the bench, and in casual conversation, that he is fully aware of the habit the police have of investigating a case until they pick on some person as the guilty one, and then disregard any evidence that doesn’t coincide with their own opinions.”

“Just what can you do?” Della Street asked. “Do you dare to put on all of this evidence, calling these witnesses as your own witnesses?”

“I don’t dare to do anything else,” Mason said.

“Well,” Drake observed, “as I get the sketch, Sally Madison is lying. Her written statement contains falsehoods. She’s lied to the police and she’s lied to you and she’s still lying to you.”

Mason said, “Clients are all human — even the innocent ones.”

“But that’s no reason why they should be permitted to double-cross their own lawyers,” Drake said with feeling. “Personally, I wouldn’t have nearly such a broadminded attitude toward her.”

Mason said, “I’m trying to keep an open mind, Paul. I’m trying to visualize what must have happened.”

“Well, she’s lying about one thing. She didn’t get that money from Genevieve Faulkner.”