The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“And Randies stayed there with you?”

“I didn’t say he did.”

“But he took you there?”

“Yes.”

“And came and got you this morning and took you back?”

“That’s when it turned out there was something wrong with the bail. He had to protect himself. You can’t blame him for that.”

“Certainly not,” Selby said. “What’s he doing about that, anything?”

“He’s fixing it up. I’m going to get out on bail pretty soon.”

“How soon?”

“Almost any time now.”

Selby said, “Perhaps if you could get this Daphne Arcola to go to the district attorney here and explain that you didn’t hit anyone, he might dismiss the case against you.”

“I don’t think so. He’s an old grouch. He says I’m trying to pull some sort of a runaround. He’s sitting tight about that piece of broken headlight. I tell you, I think someone framed me on that.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how, but I didn’t hit anyone. I’m certain I didn’t.”

“Look here,” Brandon said, “we know that you and Carr had a talk last night and laid some plans for your defense. Now who else was there?”

“You see my lawyer,” Grannis said, “and that’s all I’m going to say. I’ve talked too much already.”

Selby got to his feet. “All right, if that’s the way you feel about it, Frank. I thought perhaps we could help you.”

“Sure,” Grannis said, “I know the way you want to help.” He raised his chin and drew his extended forefinger across his throat.

“All right, if that’s the way you want to have it,” Selby said. “Come on, Rex, let’s go.”

They left the visitors’ room. The El Centro sheriff, waiting for them, asked, “Did you get anything out of him?”

“Something,” Selby said, “but I don’t know just what. I don’t know just what the significance of it is.”

“Boy, that lawyer of his is a smooth one. How do you suppose a guy with no more money than he has managed to get a high-powered lawyer like that?”

“Darned if I know,” Selby said, “but he certainly seems to have a high-powered lawyer.”

“You can say that again.”

“Well,” Brandon asked as they left the jail, “what do you make of Grannis?”

“The kid hates to lie,” Selby said. “He can hardly look us in the eye when he’s talking about what happened last night. And, because he hates to lie, he’s trying to tell the truth as far as he can and then resort to lies when he has to.”

“You don’t believe all of that stuff about the bond, do you?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. I’m telling you, Doug, there’s something funny about that. They got him out for some particular purpose. They were taking a risk on getting him out and they knew it. They didn’t intend to risk their money any longer than was necessary. They had to have him out for some particular purpose and they put up the bail money and got him out. Then, as soon as they’d accomplished that purpose, they put him back in.”

Selby said, “Well, you can gamble on one thing. Frank Grannis, a stranger in California, didn’t pick A. B. Carr as the man to represent him simply by some form of telepathic communication. He got the best criminal lawyer in the country and that wasn’t accident.”

“What do you think it was?” Brandon asked.

Selby said, “I don’t think it was money. I don’t think Grannis has that sort of money. There’s nothing to indicate it.”

“Go ahead, son,” Brandon said, “you’re doing fine. Keep right on talking.”

“Therefore,” Selby said, “Carr is going to do something for Grannis, and Grannis must be going to do something for Carr.”

“Perhaps be a witness?”

Selby nodded.

“But,” Brandon said, “it’s the other way around, Doug. Carr is the one who is digging up the witness.”

“And that,” Selby said, “is the part that simply doesn’t make sense. Grannis should be doing something to help Carr in return for Carr’s legal services. In place of that, Carr seems to be acting purely in the interests of justice and with no thought of compensation — and you know that’s not right.”

Brandon opened the door of the big county sedan, slid in behind the steering wheel. Doug Selby got in from the other side. Brandon backed out of the parking place, said, “Well, we keep running around in circles every time we try to follow old A. B. C.’s back tracks.”

“Wait a minute,” Selby said suddenly. “I wonder if I haven’t got something after all, Rex.”

“What?” Brandon asked.

Selby said, “Remember when we met Horace Lennox at the office last night?”

“Uh-huh.”

Selby said excitedly, “Remember we talked with him about Dorothy Clifton and he said he was going to stay by her, and we asked him if he’d seen the family and he said he’d talked with his mother and Steve?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But,” Selby said, “he didn’t say he talked with Moana.”

“Well, he must have talked with her,” Brandon said. “She was probably even more bitter than his mother. She’s in a position... say, wait a minute.”

“Exactly,” Selby said. “The reason he didn’t talk with Moana is because she wasn’t there. And A. B. Carr was somewhere, and Frank Grannis was somewhere. And whenever we’d start crowding Frank Grannis on where he was, and who else besides his lawyer was with him, he’d shift his eyes and get evasive.”