The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  Mason grinned and said, “I just want you to tell me the truth. I’m investigating the case and trying to find out in good faith just what type of car it was and just how well you saw it and how well you can identify it.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth,” Irving said, “just looking that thing over … Look, I was coming from the other direction. Suppose we go down the road a little bit, turn around and come back.”

  Mason, nudging Della Street, said, “All right, I’ll drive, Della.”

  He got out and walked around the car to slide in behind the steering wheel. Della Street, still keeping her notebook out of sight on her lap, slid over to the right-hand side.

  Mason drove the car down the road, made a U-turn, then came on back, driving slowly.

  “Stop just about here,” Irving said. “Now let me take a look … Shucks, that could be the same car as far as I’m concerned. It has the same lines and—and it’s standing in just about the same place. Right about here is where I stopped my car. I saw that other car from just about this angle. As far as I’m concerned that could be the same car. You understand I can’t identify it and say it is the same car, but I sure can’t say it isn’t.”

  “That’s fine,” Mason said. “That, I think, covers it. That seems to me to be a pretty fair statement of facts. As nearly as you can tell that could be the car standing right there.”

  “That convertible standing right there,” Irving said.

  “By the way,” Mason said, “my eyes aren’t too good. Can you read the license number on it?”

  “Move back just a little bit,” Irving said, “and I think I can.”

  Mason backed the car.

  Irving read the license number, “9 Y 6 3 7 0.”

  “That’s fine,” Mason said, then added, “I guess that covers it.”

  He started the car, drove rapidly back to Oceanside, stopped at the service station, let Irving out, then made a turn back down the highway.

  Della Street smiled and said, “Now there’s a fair-minded witness.”

  “He is now,” Mason said, “but by the time the police got done putting ideas in his mind, he would have felt certain the only car that would have answered the description of the one he saw there was the convertible belonging to Edward C. Garvin.”

  Mason crowded the speed limit until he had left Ocean-side, and then really stepped on the gas. “I want to get there and get that convertible out of the way before the police arrive,” he said.

  Half a mile from the place where he had parked the car, Della Street said, “It looks as though you’re too late, chief.”

  Mason exclaimed under his breath as the glare of a red spot-light shone in the distance on the highway. Then the sound of a siren reached their ears.

  A big police car, followed by a man driving Edward Garvin’s convertible, slid rubber as they braked to a stop in front of the place where Mason’s car was parked.

  “Might just as well go through with it,” Mason said with a grin, and turning off the highway drove up to a point beside his convertible.

  A man, whose vest had a shield bearing the words SAN DIEGO COUNTY, DEPUTY SHERIFF, accompanied by Sergeant Holcomb, came striding across from where the police cars were parked.

  “What’s the idea?” Holcomb demanded belligerently.

  “Just parked my car here for a while,” Mason said.

  “Your car?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What are you trying to do?” the deputy sheriff inquired.

  Mason said, “I’m trying to find out who murdered Ethel Garvin. I understand my client has been taken into custody and charged with that murder.”

  “Come on,” Holcomb said belligerently, “what’s the idea of parking your car here?”

  “Any law against it?” Mason asked.

  “I want to know what the idea is.”

  Mason’s face was a mask of cherubic innocence. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I’m going to be frank with you. I’m trying my best to uncover evidence as to the real facts in the case. I understood there was a man here in Oceanside by the name of Irving who had seen a car parked here. Now, just to show you my willingness to cooperate, I’m going to tell you all about him. His name is Mortimer C. Irving. You’ll find him at the Standard Station—the first one on the right-hand side as you go in to town. He’s a likable chap, and he was down at La Jolla playing poker the night the murder was committed.

  “He was driving back and he saw a car parked there. It had the lights on. Now, quite definitely it wasn’t the car in which the body of Ethel Garvin was found. It was a different type of car. As nearly as he can remember it was a convertible.

  “I’d like very much to find out something more about that automobile but unfortunately Irving can’t tell us very much about it. All he knows is that it was a big convertible. He thinks that it was just about the color and size of this car of mine that I left parked here so he could look it over.”

  “In other words,” Holcomb said, “you forced an identification on him. Is that right?”

  “I didn’t force any identification or anybody or anything,” Mason said.

  “The hell you didn’t,” Holcomb blazed. “You know as well as I do the only way for a man to make an absolute identification of an automobile or a person is to pick one out of a line-up. You planted one car there in the same position and …”

  “And by the way what were you intending to do with Garvin’s car?” Mason asked.

  “We’re looking it over for fingerprints,” the deputy sheriff said.

  Mason bowed and smiled. “Well, don’t let me interfere, gentlemen. If Mr. Garvin let you have the automobile I’m quite certain you’ll find he’s only too glad to co-operate in every way that he can.

  “Incidentally, Mr. Garvin has a perfect alibi for the hours during which the murder was committed … And now, if you’ll pardon me, gentlemen, I’ll be getting back to my office.”

  And Mason moved over to his convertible, opened the door, slid in behind the steering wheel, turned on the ignition, started the motor, and purred away, leaving the two officers standing there, watching him with angry eyes, but hardly knowing exactly what to say under the circumstances.

  Chapter 15

  Hamlin L. Covington, the District Attorney of San Diego County, sized up Perry Mason as the defense lawyer entered the courtroom, then turned to his chief deputy, Samuel Jarvis.

  “A good-looking fellow,” Covington whispered, “but I can’t see that he’s any wizard.”

  “He’s dangerous,” Jarvis warned.

  Covington, a dignified, tall, powerfully built man, said, “Well, there’s certainly no need to be afraid of him in this case. He probably makes a lot of fast maneuvers, and gets those boys up north all worked up trying to follow him. I’m not going to be tricked into trying to follow him. I’m going to maintain a solid position against which that damned shyster can dash him-self with no more effect than the ocean smashing spray against the Sunset Cliffs.”

  Sam Jarvis nodded, and then grinned, triumphantly. “If Mason only knew what we had waiting for him,” he gloated.

  “Well,” Covington said, with a certain self-righteous dignity, “after all, he has it coming to him. He likes to pull fast ones in court. We’ll cure him.

  “And,” Covington continued, “he’s going to get a citation to appear before the grievance committee of the Bar Association on that automobile identification business. That’s going to slow him down some on cross-examination. The more he tries to mix the witness up, the more he’s going to give the Bar Association a foundation for its complaint.”

  Covington chuckled with satisfaction. “We’ll show him that we do things a little differently in this bailiwick, eh Jarvis?”

  “You bet,” Jarvis agreed. “When he hears …”

  Abruptly the door from the judge’s chambers opened, and Judge Minden entered the courtroom.

  Lawyers, spectators and courtroom attachés stood in a body as the judge wal
ked over to the bench, hesitated a moment, then nodded gracious permission to the crowd to be seated.

  The bailiff, who had pounded the court to order with his gavel, intoned, “The Superior Court of the State of California, in and for the County of San Diego, Honorable Judge Harrison E. Minden, presiding, is now in session.”

  “People of the State of California versus Edward Charles Garvin,” Judge Minden said.

  “Ready for the prosecution,” Covington announced.

  “And for the defendant, Your Honor,” Mason said, smiling urbanely.

  “Proceed with the impanelment of the jury,” Judge Minden told the clerk.

  Covington whispered to Samuel Jarvis, “You go ahead and impanel a jury, Sam. I’m going to keep myself in reserve … Sort of a big gun to blast Mason out of the water. Only we won’t need to do much blasting in this case.”

  “He’ll be blasted all right,” Jarvis said, “whenever we get ready to press the button.”

  Covington stroked his gray mustache. His eyes twinkled with appreciation of the picture his assistant created.

  Judge Minden said, “As the names of prospective jurors are called, you will come forward and take your place in the jury box. Mr. Clerk, draw twelve names.”

  Judge Minden made a brief statement to the jury impanelment concerning their duties, called on the district attorney to advise the jurors of the nature of the case, asked the prospective jurors a few routine questions, then turned them over to the attorneys for questioning.

  Mason varied his usual courtroom technique by asking only the most vague and general questions.

  District Attorney Covington, suddenly suspicious, whispered a warning to Jarvis, forced Jarvis to continue with a long line of searching questions until gradually it dawned on Covington that the district attorney’s office was apparently being maneuvered into the position of trying to get a hand-picked jury, while the defense seemed casually willing to accept any twelve men who were fair.

  Questions concerning the death penalty removed four jurors from the box, but their places were filled, and Mason, smiling, seemed to treat the entire matter as being a mere procedural formality preliminary to an acquittal.

  Nettled, District Attorney Covington took over some of the examination himself, and finally, late that afternoon when a jury had been impaneled, the thoroughly exasperated district attorney realized that Mason had outgeneraled him, because the lawyer, swiftly exercising those peremptory challenges for which no reason need be given, showed that he had somehow acquired a thorough knowledge of the characters and backgrounds of the prospective jurymen.

  “Do you care to make an opening statement, Mr. District Attorney?” Judge Minden asked.

  It had been understood that Jarvis was to make the opening statement, but Covington, angry and flustered, was on his feet in front of the jury, telling them that he expected to prove that the defendant, Edward Charles Garvin, had, as the result of an illegal divorce, found himself faced with a bigamy prosecution, involved in a hopeless maze of domestic entanglements, and so had conceived the idea of extricating himself by the simple but deadly expedient of pulling the trigger of a revolver.

  “I expect to show you, ladies and gentlemen,” Covington said, his voice crisp with denunciation, “that this man deliberately lured his wife into a midnight appointment, an appointment from which he had carefully planned she should never return alive. A cold-blooded, deliberate, well-planned, skillfully executed murder which might never have been uncovered had it not been …”

  A tug at his coattail from Samuel Jarvis made Covington realize suddenly he was telling too much. He paused, cleared his throat, said, “had it not been for the efforts of the police of this county, working in friendly co-operation with those of Los Angeles County.

  “I shall not, however, ladies and gentlemen, dwell at any great length upon the evidence. I propose to show that the defendant fled from the United States to Mexico, where he sought haven and sanctuary from a charge which his wife had placed against him, and …”

  “Just a moment,” Mason interrupted cheerfully. “Your Honor, I object to any attempt on the part of the prosecution to introduce evidence of any other independent crime for the purpose of discrediting the defendant, and charge the remarks of the district attorney as prejudicial misconduct I ask that the Court admonish the jury to disregard the remarks.”

  “If the Court please,” Covington said angrily, “this is an exception to the general rule. This is a case where the charge of bigamy which was placed against the defendant by his wife is the motive for the murder. That is something counsel for the defense knows very well. It is a case where we are permitted to introduce evidence of another crime. We are forced to do so in order to prove our motive. It was because of this crime that the defendant fled to Mexico and because of it that he decided to murder his wife, and make himself a widower, so that he could then go through another marriage ceremony with the woman with whom he had become infatuated.”

  “Same objection,” Mason said, cheerfully, “same assignment of misconduct.”

  Judge Minden said, testily, “Well, of course, Mr. District Attorney, I don’t know what the evidence is going to disclose, but it would seem to me that you’re anticipating a legal point. Wouldn’t it be better to reserve this matter until the time comes when you wish to put in your evidence, and then we can have an objection from the defense, the jury can be excluded during argument, and the Court can then make an intelligent ruling? This is, in a way, approaching the subject by the back door, and the Court is hardly in a position to make an intelligent ruling. It may be part of the res gestae but in order to determine that point we should first find out what the circumstances are.

  “I think it would be much better if you simply stated to the jury what you expected to prove in regard to the motions and activities of the defendant at the time the murder was committed and then left these legal questions to be disposed of in an orderly manner.”

  “Very well, Your Honor,” Covington conceded with poor grace. “If the Court wishes me to adopt that procedure, I shall do so.”

  “Under the circumstances,” Judge Minden said, “and for the purpose of protecting the rights of the defendant, the Court will admonish the jury not to pay any attention to any remarks which have been made at this time by the district attorney concerning the commission of another crime.”

  Covington, angrily realizing that he had been placed in a position where it looked as though he had attempted improperly to influence the jury, blurted, “That is about all, ladies and gentlemen. I am going to prove beyond all reasonable doubt that this defendant committed the murder, that it was a dastardly, premeditated, cold-blooded murder, and I’m going to ask for a conviction of first degree murder without recommendation. In other words, I’m going to ask for the death penalty for this defendant.”

  Covington turned and glowered in anger at Edward Garvin, then at Perry Mason. He sat down abruptly, whispered to Jarvis, “Damn his supercilious smirk! I’ll make him take this case seriously before so very long;”

  “Proceed with your case,” Judge Minden said, “or does the defendant wish to make an opening statement at this time?”

  “Oh, if the Court please,” Mason said, casually, “I’ll make a very brief opening statement”

  He got up from his chair, walked over to the rail in front of the jury box, glanced impressively at the jurors, and took a deep breath as though about to launch upon some elaborate summation of the case.

  The jurors, aware of Mason’s reputation as a trial lawyer in another jurisdiction, many of them seeing him for the first time, surveyed him with friendly interest.

  Mason said, “If the Court please, and ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” He paused dramatically for a moment. Then his face softened into a smile and he said, “He can’t prove it.”

  And then, before the jurors or the district attorney realized that this was all of his opening statement, Mason turned and walked back to the defense table.
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  One or two of the jurors smiled. A slight ripple of mirth developed in the courtroom and was silenced by the judge’s gavel.

  “Proceed,” Judge Minden said to the district attorney, but those who noticed the judge’s countenance saw there was a slight twinkle even in His Honor’s eye.

  Covington leaned over to Sam Jarvis. “You go ahead and prove the corpus delicti, Sam,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’m going out and get some air. We’re going to tear this damned shyster limb from limb. When he gets done with this case the reputation he’s built up as being a legal wizard will be as tattered as a rag doll that a dog has been shaking to pieces. You go ahead, Sam, and—dammit, rip the sawdust out of him.”

  Then Covington, striding with the outraged dignity of a man who has seldom encountered anyone with sufficient temerity to stand up and encounter his wrath, barged down the aisle of the courtroom, while his assistant started in with the long line of preliminary proof.

  Knowing that the witness who had found the body was one of Drake’s men, realizing that he would, if given the opportunity, slant his testimony so that it would be as advantageous as possible to Mason’s side of the case, the deputy district attorney handled the man with gloves.

  He merely asked him if he had found, on the date in question, an automobile parked by the side of the road, had had occasion to investigate the car, and whether he had found in it the body of a woman. He brought out that the witness had found a revolver on the ground by the car and had notified the police and subsequently had seen the body at the time of the coroner’s inquest and that it was the same body.

  Abruptly Jarvis tossed the ball to Perry Mason.

  “You may cross-examine,” he said.

  “No questions,” Mason said.

  Jarvis was visibly surprised. He had expected Mason would try to lay the foundation for his defense through this witness.

  The next witness was the chief of police of Oceanside.

  With this man Jarvis was much more relaxed, much more at home. The police officer testified to having been summoned to the scene, to having notified the coroner and sheriff of San Diego, of having “looked the ground over” and later on, of having attended the inquest where the identity of the murdered woman was established.