The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Medford glanced quickly at Mason, not knowing that Paul Drake’s detectives had already tipped Mason off to this point in the evidence, and thinking that he would encounter some expression of dismay.

Mason merely glanced casually at the clock, then looked inquiringly over at Medford.

“Have you finished with the witness?” he asked.

“Cross-examine,” Medford snapped.

Judge Summerville held up his hand. “Just a moment,” he said. “I want to ask your witness a question. Lieutenant Tragg, are you quite certain that the fingerprints you found on that weapon were actually those of Miss Della Street?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

“Showing that she had touched that weapon?”

“That is quite right, your Honor.”

“Very well,” Judge Summerville said in a voice that showed his appreciation of the gravity of the situation, “you may cross-examine, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “You’ll pardon me, Lieutenant Tragg, if I perhaps review some of your testimony, but as I understand it, you have made a very thorough check of the movements of Harrington Faulkner on the afternoon of the day he met his death?”

“From five o’clock on,” Tragg said. “In fact, we can account for every move he made from five o’clock until the time of his death.”

“And he went to the Rawlins pet store sometime after five o’clock?”

“Yes. He went to the bank, got the money and then went to Rawlins pet store.”

“And he was there some time taking inventory?”

“Around an hour and forty-five minutes.”

“And while he was there he noticed this revolver?”

“That’s right.”

“And put it in his pocket?”

“Yes.”

“And then, according to your theory of the case, when he went to his home he took the gun out of his pocket and put it down — perhaps on the bed?”

Tragg said, “The gun was in his hip pocket. He went home, took off his coat and shirt and started to shave. It’s only natural to suppose that he took the gun out of his pocket.”

“Then,” Mason said suavely, “how does it happen that you didn’t find any of Mr. Faulkner’s fingerprints on the gun?”

Tragg hesitated a moment, said, “The murderer must have wiped all fingerprints off the gun.”

“Why?”

“Obviously,” Tragg said, smiling slightly, “to remove incriminating evidence.”

“Therefore,” Mason said, “if the defendant had been the one who committed the murder and had thought enough of the problem of fingerprints to have wiped all fingerprints off the gun, she would hardly have gone ahead after that and left her own fingerprints on it, would she?”

Tragg was obviously jarred by the question. He said, “Of course, you’re assuming something there, Mr. Mason.”

“What am I assuming?”

“You’re assuming that I know something of what was in the defendant’s mind.”

“You’ve already testified to what was in the mind of the murderer,” Mason said. “You have testified that the murderer wiped the fingerprints off the weapon to remove incriminating evidence. Now then, I am asking you if that theory is consistent with the theory that Sally Madison committed the murder.”

Lieutenant Tragg obviously realized the force of Mason’s suggestion. He shifted his position uncomfortably.

“Isn’t it far more likely that she is telling the truth, and that she picked up the gun in order to remove it from the scene of the crime, knowing that it was Tom Gridley’s gun?”

“I’ll leave that up to the Court,” Tragg said.

“Thank you,” Mason announced, smiling. “And now, I want to ask you a couple of other questions, Lieutenant Tragg. It is the theory of the police, I believe, that Harrington Faulkner was writing this check stub and was about to write the name Tom Gridley in the check stub when he was shot?”

“That’s right.”

“The fact that he had written only the first three letters of the last name, and the fact that the checkbook was found where it had fallen on the floor, are the things on which you predicate your conclusion?”

“That, plus the fact that the fountain pen also fell on the floor.”

“Don’t you think that something else might have interrupted the deceased?”

“Such as what?” Tragg asked. “I’d be glad to have you mention something that would cause a man to stop writing in the middle of a name that way.”

“Perhaps the ringing of a telephone?” Mason asked.

“Not a chance in the world,” Tragg said. “That is, if you want my opinion.”

“I’m asking for it,” Mason said.

“If the telephone had rung, the decedent would certainly have finished the name ‘Gridley’ before he answered the telephone. And he wouldn’t have dropped the checkbook on the floor and wouldn’t have dropped the fountain pen on the floor.”

“Therefore,” Mason said, “the thing that prevented the decedent from finishing writing the name ‘Gridley’ was the fatal shot?”

“I think there’s no other conclusion.”

“You have talked with a gentleman named Charles Menlo?”

“Yes.”

“And, without anticipating Mr. Menlo’s testimony, I believe you know that Mr. Menlo will state that he was talking with the decedent on the telephone at the time when someone, apparently the defendant, entered the house and was ordered out by Mr. Faulkner?”

“This, of course, is very irregular,” Medford interposed.