Читаем The Fourth Side of the Triangle полностью

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is only one point for you to consider in judging the guilt or innocence of this defendant: Did Lutetia McKell, at precisely 10:23 P.M. on the night of September 14th, shoot Sheila Grey to death in the Grey apartment, or did she not? She did not. She did not, and you now know she did not. And the reason you know she did not is simply that she could not. She had not time.

The case went to the jury at a quarter past eleven on December 23rd, after a brief charge by Judge Hershkowitz (“You are to consider only the question: Did the defendant on the night of September 14th, at 10:23 P.M., fire the shot that killed Sheila Grey? If the defendant did, she is guilty of murder as charged in the indictment. If you find that she did not fire the shot, then you must find that she is not guilty of the crime as charged in the indictment. In making your decision, you must consider the testimony you have heard in this courtroom concerning the accused’s telephone conversation at about that same time. If you hold that testimony to be relevant, you must then consider the matter of timing. This court believes the matter of timing in this case to be all-important...”). At half-past noon the jury had reached a verdict, when the defense attorney and the district attorney had not yet returned from their lunch (the judge, an old hand, had lunch sent into his chambers). Barton and De Angelus, notified, scurried back to the courtroom with their lunches half consumed.

The headline on the tabloid that was first to print the news, FREE LU, was not — as some English-speaking foreigner might have interpreted — an imperative; it was a statement of what the jury had in fact done.

Dane’s mother was acquitted, as her husband before her had been.

Judge Hershkowitz said to the jury, “Your verdict is justified by the evidence... Two indictments have now been returned for the murder of Sheila Grey, and in each case the jury, having seen and heard the evidence, has refused to convict. The killer is, accordingly, still at large. We do not wish an innocent person to be pronounced guilty; at the same time we do not wish a guilty person to escape unpunished.”

This last was taken — accurately — by police, district attorney’s office, and press alike as a juridical nudge to get on with the job, and this time do it right.

The McKells were too overjoyed to weigh nuances. Ashton exclaimed, “What a wonderful Christmas present. We’ll all be together on the Twenty-fifth, and without this nightmare hanging over us. Mr. Barton, how can I express my gratitude?”

The lawyer shook his head. “Don’t thank me, thank that fellow Lattimoore and his uncashed $500 check. All I did was follow through. With that evidence, any kid fresh out of law school could have earned an acquittal.”

The only one present who was not happily jabbering away was Lutetia herself. When Dane asked her why she was so preoccupied, his mother said, “It will always be on my conscience.”

What, Mother?”

“Replacing the blank cartridges in that revolver with live ones. Why did I do it? She would still be alive—”

“Stop it, Mother. This instant.”

It took them a long time to restore her spirits. At one point Dane got the impression that she would have been content to give herself up and stand trial all over again. As he said to his father, “Thank God for the rule of double jeopardy!”

Henry Calder Barton did not leave the courtroom with them. He went over to talk to the district attorney, who was talking to Inspector Queen.

“As His Honor would say, Henry, mazel tov,” De Angelus said sourly.

“What are you congratulating him for?” snarled old man Queen. “A baby could have walked off with this case. Soap!”

Barton grinned. “I couldn’t agree more, Inspector. Uh... Mr. D.A. I know this isn’t the best time in the world to ask if you’ll let my client, that Gogarty boy, cop a plea for manslaughter. But it would save everybody time and money. What do you say?”

De Angelus grunted, “It sure as hell isn’t. Do you realize that lightning has struck me twice in this Grey murder? With Dick Queen here standing under the same tree?”

“Why take it out on Gogarty?”

“Talk to me about it tomorrow. Today I wouldn’t make bargains with my own mother.”

“Why, Teddy, you wouldn’t be disgruntled because two innocent people have been found not guilty, would you?”

“Look, Henry, I’m unhappy, Inspector Queen’s unhappy, everybody’s unhappy except you and the McKells. So let’s leave it at Merry Christmas, huh?”

Ellery was unhappy, too, the impending Christmas never having seemed less Merry. For one thing, he would have to spend it in the hospital; and the half-promise of his doctor that he might be home and hobbling around before the New Year carried exactly as much conviction as half-promises usually do.

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Рекс Стаут, создатель знаменитого цикла детективных произведений о Ниро Вулфе, большом гурмане, страстном любителе орхидей и одном из самых великих сыщиков, описанных когда-либо в литературе, на этот раз поручает расследование запутанных преступлений частному детективу Текумсе Фоксу, округ Уэстчестер, штат Нью-Йорк.В уединенном лесном коттедже найдено тело Ридли Торпа, финансиста с незапятнанной репутацией. Энди Грант, накануне убийства посетивший поместье Торпа и первым обнаруживший труп, обвиняется в совершении преступления. Нэнси Грант, сестра Энди, обращается к Текумсе Фоксу, чтобы тот снял с ее брата обвинение в несовершённом убийстве. Фокс принимается за расследование («Смерть дублера»).Очень плохо для бизнеса, когда в банки с качественным продуктом кто-то неизвестный добавляет хинин. Частный детектив Эми Дункан берется за это дело, но вскоре ее отстраняют от расследования. Перед этим машина Эми случайно сталкивается с машиной Фокса – к счастью, без серьезных последствий, – и девушка делится с сыщиком своими подозрениями относительно того, кто виноват в порче продуктов. Виновником Эми считает хозяев фирмы, конкурирующей с компанией ее дяди, Артура Тингли. Девушка отправляется навестить дядю и находит его мертвым в собственном офисе… («Плохо для бизнеса»)Все началось со скрипки. Друг Текумсе Фокса, бывший скрипач, уговаривает частного детектива поучаствовать в благотворительной акции по покупке ценного инструмента для молодого скрипача-виртуоза Яна Тусара. Фокс не поклонник музыки, но вместе с другом он приходит в Карнеги-холл, чтобы послушать выступление Яна. Концерт проходит как назло неудачно, и, похоже, всему виной скрипка. Когда после концерта Фокс с товарищем спешат за кулисы, чтобы утешить Яна, они обнаруживают скрипача мертвым – он застрелился на глазах у свидетелей, а скрипка в суматохе пропала («Разбитая ваза»).

Рекс Тодхантер Стаут

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