The Case of the Queenly Contestant

“No,” Mason said, “not the way things are looking now. The district attorney would tear her to pieces on cross-examination. She’s put herself in an impossible position and, so far, the circumstantial evidence is all against her.”

“What can you do if you can’t put her on the stand?”

Mason said, “There’s one nice thing about circumstantial evidence; it’s a two-edged sword. It cuts both ways, and it always tells the truth. The trouble with circumstantial evidence is that sometimes we make an incorrect interpretation because we don’t have all the evidence.

“However, Della, I’m just nursing one theory which I’m hoping against hope will pan out.”

“Want to talk?” she asked.

Mason got up from behind his desk, started pacing the floor. “I want to talk,” he said. “You’re a jury. I’m a lawyer representing the defense.”

“All right,” she said; “go ahead.”

Mason said, “The district attorney tells you that he has unmistakable circumstantial evidence that the defendant came to the home of Agnes Burlington, parked her car in the driveway, and went in to see the woman who was murdered.

“The prosecution has introduced moulage exhibits, and there seems to be no question that the automobile belonging to the defendant was actually driven into the driveway of the Burlington house.

“Now, I’ll ask you the question: when was it driven?

“At first blush you may think we can’t answer that question — that is, that we can’t answer it with reference to the time of death — but I think we can.

“The evidence shows that Agnes Burlington was in the habit of watering her lawn in the evening. She had an underground system, and it was her habit to turn this on so that just a mere trickle of water was coming out from the various outlets. She would then leave this water on until she went to bed, when she would turn it off.”

“Can I ask a question?” Della Street said.

“Jurors can always ask questions,” Mason said, smiling. “What is your question, Miss Juror?”

“How do we know that it was her custom to turn on the water in the evening and turn it off when she went to bed?”

“We don’t as yet,” Mason said, “but I think the evidence indicates that that’s what happened this night, and I think — in fact, I hope — we can show that it was her custom.”

“Go ahead,” Della Street said.

“Now, then,” Mason said, “the particular night in question, the one we’re interested in, Agnes Burlington didn’t turn off the water; she didn’t turn off the electric lights.”

“Why?”

“The answer has to be because she was alive when she turned on the water, she was alive when she turned on the lights; but when the time came when she would normally turn off the water and normally turn off the lights she was dead. Moreover, weather records show there was a violent thundershower on the evening of the fourth. This is an unusual event for this climate; but there was the usual violent wind, the usual brief, drenching rain.

“If Agnes Burlington had been alive after that drenching rain, she would have turned off the water on the lawn. And the noise of the thunder could have prevented any neighbors from hearing the shot.

“Therefore, the water ran all night on the lawn, all the next morning. The lights were on all that night, all the next morning. Then Ellen Adair drove up to see Agnes Burlington.

“We can’t prove the exact time that Ellen Adair parked her car, but we do know that it must have been many hours after Agnes Burlington’s death, because the water, turned on so that it would trickle through the watering system onto the lawn, had soaked the lawn and then had drained down into the driveway so that it had left the driveway so muddy that the soil had retained the prints of the tires on the defendant’s car when she had driven in.

“In other words, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence conclusively shows that Ellen Adair must have driven her car into that driveway twelve to fifteen hours after Agnes Burlington had met her death.”

Mason paused. “How am I doing?” he asked.

“Very well,” Della said. “But won’t Ellen tell you what time she drove in there and left those tracks?”

“Sure she will. She has. She says it was just an hour or two before she came here to the office to tell me about Agnes Burlington.

“I think that’s another lie. She’s either trying to protect her son or is distorting the evidence.

“I have to prepare this case for a jury without relying on any outside help. I have to rely on the evidence.”

“You’re doing fine,” Della Street said. “My verdict is not guilty!”

Mason grinned. “You’re a little too easily persuaded by defense’s arguments, Della. But, so far, that’s our only hope to cling to — that and the hope that the fatal bullet wasn’t fired from the revolver that the police found in the glove compartment of Ellen Adair’s car.”

“Suppose it turns out that the fatal bullet was fired from that gun?”

“Then,” Mason said, “we’ve got to find some dramatic development which is going to indicate innocence; otherwise we’re licked.”