The Case of the Mischievous Doll

“Now then,” Mason said, “what did he say about the fact that he couldn’t make you any promises?”

“Oh,” she said, “he told me that if he made any promises to me that that would impair the weight of my testimony so that I’d just have to trust his sense of gratitude.”

Mason smiled and turned to the jury. “That,” he said, “is all.”

Hamilton Burger flushed, said, “That’s all.”

Judge Flint said, “Court will now take a recess until tomorrow morning at nine-thirty a.m. During that time the defendant will be remanded to custody, and the jurors will not discuss the case among themselves or permit it to be discussed in their presence or form or express any opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the defendant.”

Judge Flint arose and left the bench.

Minerva Minden clutched Mason’s arm.

“Mr. Mason,” she said, “I have a confession to make.”

“No, you haven’t,” Mason told her.

“I do, I do. You must know something, you simply must. Otherwise I’ll... I’ll be convicted of a murder I didn’t do.”

Mason’s eyes met hers. “I’m going to tell you something that I very seldom tell a client,” he said. “Shut up. Don’t talk to me. Don’t tell me anything. I don’t want to know anything about the facts of the case.”

“But, Mr. Mason, if you don’t know, they’ll— Can’t you see, the evidence against me is overwhelming? They’ll convict me of a murder that—”

“Shut up,” Mason said. “Don’t talk to me and I don’t want to talk with you.”

Mason got to his feet and motioned to the policewoman.

Mason said as a parting shot to his client, “Don’t discuss this case with anybody. I don’t want you to answer any questions. I want you to sit absolutely tight. Say nothing, not a word.”

Chapter Thirteen

Back in his office Mason paced the floor while Della Street watched him with anxious eyes.

“Can you tell me what’s worrying you, Chief?” she asked.

Mason said, “It’s a tricky situation, Della. I’ve got to handle it in just the right way. If I do exactly the right thing and say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time, that’s one thing. If I misplay my cards, it’s another.”

Abruptly Mason stopped in his pacing. “Della,” he said, “get Paul Drake on the line, tell him I want to know every circumstance connected with the holdup of the bank at Santa Maria.”

“Is that pertinent?” Della Street asked.

“That’s pertinent,” Mason said. “Tell Paul I want a complete report listing every circumstance, every bit of evidence. Nothing is too minute, nothing is to be discarded.

“Have him charter a plane, fly an operative up there. Get busy. Work with witnesses.”

“You want the report by morning?” Della Street asked.

“I want the operative who makes the investigation to be back here by morning,” Mason said. “I want him in the courtroom where I can talk with him. Tell Paul to spare no expense, to charter a plane.

“Also tell Paul I want a complete report of all unsolved stick-ups between San Francisco and Los Angeles on the fifth, sixth and seventh of September. He can start collecting those by long distance telephone.

“Have him call police chiefs at the various cities. I want everything I can get.”

“But, look here,” Della Street said, “you can’t get around Jasper’s testimony about the gun, the conversations and the place where the body was found unless you—”

“All that testimony isn’t going to hurt the defendant,” Mason said.

“What!” she exclaimed.

“The murder of Dorrie Ambler doesn’t mean anything in this case,” Mason said, “unless the jury believes Minerva told them to murder her. If I can open up a doubt on that one point, then I can blast Jasper’s testimony. The death of Dorrie Ambler doesn’t mean a thing unless Minerva Minden told them to kill her.

“Even if Minerva Minden had an argument with Dorrie Ambler and killed her in the heat of passion, it wouldn’t have anything to do with this case unless it corroborated Jasper’s testimony, and if he is lying about being told to murder Dorrie Ambler, then he could be lying about the murder of Billings.”

Della Street shook her head. “You could never get a jury to believe that. They’d convict Minerva anyway.”

“If I play this right,” Mason said, “the judge is going to have to instruct the jury to return a verdict of not guilty.”

“He’d never dare to do that on a technicality,” Della Street said.

“Want to bet?” Mason asked.

Chapter Fourteen

Hamilton Burger was on his feet as soon as court had convened the next morning and Judge Flint had taken the bench.

“If the Court please,” he said, “in the case of the People of the State of California versus Minerva Minden I have one more piece of evidence to put in. I have here a certified copy of the firearms register showing the purchase by Minerva Minden of a thirty-eight-calibre Smith and Wesson revolver, Number C-48809.

“This is a sales record kept in accordance with law and is, I believe, prima-facie evidence of the matters therein contained. I offer this in evidence.”

“We have no objection,” Mason said. “The matter may go in.”