"Yes."
"Then what do I do?"
"You stay there until a man comes to serve some papers on you."
"What sort of papers?"
"They'll be papers in a divorce action."
"Then what?"
"This man will ask you if your name is Hazel Basset, also known as Hazel Fenwick, formerly Hazel Chalmers."
"What do I do?"
"You say that your name is Thelma Bevins, but that you are expecting the papers and that you'll take them and accept service."
"Is there anything illegal in that?"
"Certainly not. They are papers which I will prepare and which you can expect. You know that they're going to be served on you because I'm telling you so now."
She nodded her head and said, "Is that all there is to it?"
"No," he told her, "that's the beginning."
"What's the ending?"
"You'll be taken into custody."
"You mean arrested?"
"Not exactly arrested, but you'll be taken into custody for questioning."
"Then what do I do?"
"Then is when the difficult part of it comes in. You keep your mouth shut."
"Don't tell them anything?"
"Don't tell them one single word."
"Shall I make any demands?"
"No, simply sit absolutely tight. You'll be questioned and crossquestioned. You'll be photographed by newspaper reporters. You'll be cajoled and wheedled. You'll be threatened, but you'll keep quiet. There's only one thing you will say, and you'll keep saying that."
"What is that?"
"That you refuse to leave the State of Nevada until some court of competent jurisdiction has given an order forcing you to cross the state line. Do you understand that?"
"I want to stay in Nevada, is that it?"
"Yes."
"What do I do to keep there?"
"Simply refuse to leave."
"Suppose they take me?"
"I don't think they'll take you. There's going to be a lot of publicity and a lot of newspaper reporters. If you insist on being allowed to remain in Nevada until some court has ordered your removal, they'll wait until they have a court order before they take you out."
"And that's all?"
"That's all there is to it."
"What do I get for it?"
"Five hundred bucks."
"When do I get it?"
"Two hundred now—three hundred when you've finished the job."
"How about expenses?"
"I furnish you an airplane ticket to Reno. You pay for your apartment out of the two hundred dollars."
"When do I start?"
"Right now."
She shook her head and said, "Not right now. When I get that two hundred dollars I go out and eat, then I start."
Mason nodded to Della Street.
"Give her two hundred dollars, Della," he said, "and have her sign a written statement that she is to go to Reno under my instructions; that she is to register under her own name; that when someone seeks to serve papers on her, she will say her name is not Hazel Fenwick nor Hazel Basset nor Hazel Chalmers, but that she will accept the papers."
"What's the object of that?" Thelma Bevins asked.
"That protects you and it protects me," Perry Mason said. "It shows exactly what you're instructed to do. Above all, be sure that you don't lie. Don't say that your name is Hazel Fenwick. Don't say that your name is Hazel Basset. Never admit that you're anyone except Thelma Bevins. Simply say that you're expecting the papers and will accept service of them. Do you understand that?"
"I think I do," she said. "And I get three hundred dollars when it's over with?"
"That's right."
She leaned across the desk and gave Perry Mason her hand.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll make a good job of it."
The telephone rang and Della Street, lifting the receiver and listening, glanced at Perry Mason.
"Paul Drake, Chief," she said.
Mason said, "Run Miss Bevins out through that side door, Della. I don't want Paul Drake to see her. She can go around and come in the office from the other entrance. Tell Drake to come in. I'll hold him here until you get finished with Miss Bevins. Then take her down to the plane and see her aboard. Just as soon as you hit Reno, Miss Bevins, get that apartment. You'll be there for less than a week, so rent it by the week. Wire me the address of the apartment. Don't sign the telegram. Do you understand?"
She nodded, and Della Street piloted her through the side door. A few moments later she appeared and ushered Paul Drake into the office.
"Thought I'd look in to see if things were coming all right," Drake said.
Mason nodded, and said, "They're okay, Paul."
"You contacted Stephen Chalmers all right?"
"Yes. I'm going to file his divorce action today."
"I got those pictures you wanted," Drake said. "I'll have the prints for you sometime tomorrow."
"Have any trouble?" Mason asked.
"Not a bit. We got everyone in the house, with one exception."
"Why the exception?"
"Colemar," the detective said. "He was last on the list and he smelled a rat. You see, Perry, I wanted to save you that fifty bucks. I didn't see any reason for having a newspaper photographer do the job. I got one of my men to pose as a reporter from the Journal. It got by okay until we came to Colemar. Seems that Colemar is going to be a witness. He'd just come from the D.A.'s office. He called them on the phone and asked if they wanted him to pose. Seems like they've warned him not to do or say anything unless he asks them…"
"What did the D.A.'s office say?" Mason asked. "Did they smell a rat?"
"Evidently they did because Colemar hung up the telephone and then called the Journal and asked for the city editor's desk. That checkmated my man. He grabbed his camera and beat it. Can you get along without Colemar, Perry?"
"I think I can," Mason said, "if you're sure he's going to be a witness for the prosecution."
"Sure he is," the detective asserted. "He's been spilling something to them. They'd evidently told him not to do anything until he'd called them."
Mason nodded slowly and asked, "How about those other pictures, Paul? Do they show anything peculiar about the facial expressions?"
"Nothing I can find," the detective said. "Look them over for yourself. Overton apparently tried to keep any expression whatever from showing on his face. Edith Brite had her lips compressed in a grim line. Dick Basset looks as though he were posing for a portrait, but the photographer told me he had a lot of trouble getting Dick to keep his eyes on the camera. Dick kept letting his gaze wander down to a spot on the floor. Does that mean anything?"
"It may," Mason said, "but probably it doesn't. I'll have to study the picture. How about this Brite woman…?"
Drake interrupted him in a low voice, saying, "Listen, Perry, this may be serious as hell. You heard about young McLane?"
Mason nodded and said, "Yes, I heard some rumors. How do the police figure it, Paul? Was it murder or suicide?"
"I don't know. They're keeping it pretty close. But I'm wondering about that eye he was holding, Perry. You remember I got you a bunch of eyes. I'd feel a lot better if I saw that bunch of eyes again."
"Why?"
"I'd just like to make certain they're all there."
Mason shrugged his shoulders. "Those eyes, Paul, are all gone."
"Where?"
"Never mind where."
"Suppose they trace me through the wholesaler…"
"I told you," Mason interrupted, "not to leave a back trail."
"Sometimes a man can't help it."
"Then," the lawyer said, "it's just too bad."
"Look here, Perry. You said you'd keep me out of jail."
"You're not in yet, are you?"
The detective shivered and said, "I have a hunch I'm going to be."
Mason said slowly, "Paul, I think we'd better rush this case to trial. The district attorn
ey wants to hold the preliminary examination day after tomorrow. I'm going to consent to it."
The detective puckered his forehead in a worried frown. "Look here, Perry, we're in this thing together."
"Get your suitcase packed, Paul," the lawyer interrupted; "you're taking the next plane to Reno."
"To get away from this eye business?" Drake asked.
"No, to serve papers on Hazel Fenwick, sometimes known as Hazel Chalmers, also known as Hazel Basset."
Drake gave a low whistle and said, "So, you did know where she was!"
Mason lit a cigarette. "You make too damn many comments, Paul," he said.
Drake started for the door.
"I'm packing my suitcase, Perry, but just remember one thing—you promised to keep me out of jail."
Mason waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal and rang for Della Street. She entered the room just as the detective was leaving. Mason waited until the door closed, and then said, "Take a divorce complaint, Della. The ground will be desertion. The defendant will be described as Hazel Chalmers, also known as Hazel Fenwick, and sometimes known as Mrs. Richard Basset."
The secretary stared at him in openmouthed surprise.
"Why," she said, "if you file the action that way, every newspaper in town will pounce on it. They follow the divorce actions as routine news."
Mason nodded. "I'm sending Paul Drake on to Reno by the evening plane," he said. "Get that girl started at once. When she wires us the address of her apartment, we'll wire Drake to serve papers on her there."
Della Street, watching him curiously, said, "A lot of the newspaper boys know that Paul Drake serves most of our papers."
Mason nodded his head slowly. "If," he said, "I can make the proper buildup on this thing, I can get away with it, but everything depends on the buildup. Go ahead and knock out that divorce complaint, then see that it gets filed."
Chapter 14
Judge Kenneth D. Winters, the judge of the lower court, who was acting as a committing magistrate, fully appreciated the spotlight of publicity which had been focused upon him.
"This," he said, "is the time fixed for the preliminary hearing of Peter Brunold and Sylvia Basset, jointly charged with the murder of one Hartley Basset. Gentlemen, are you ready to proceed with the preliminary hearing?"
"Ready," said Perry Mason.
District Attorney Burger nodded.
Newspaper reporters squared themselves over their notebooks and settled down to business. The case was virtually unique, in that the district attorney himself was conducting a preliminary hearing, and every newspaper man in the room knew that there were events in the making.
"James Overton," said District Attorney Burger, "will you please come forward and be sworn."
Overton held up his right hand, stood staring over the courtroom, dark saturnine, sardonic, yet, withal with an air of polished poise about him which seemed in some way, to set him apart from the others.
"Your name is James Overton and you were employed as a chauffeur for Hartley Basset?" Burger asked, as Overton, having been sworn, took the witness stand.
"Yes, sir."
"How long had you been employed by Mr. Basset?"
"Eighteen months."
"You were employed as chauffeur during all that time?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was your occupation before that time?"
Perry Mason pushed his way up from his counsel chair.
"I am aware," he said, "that it is usually poor policy for an attorney for the defense to enter a lot of technical objections at a preliminary examination. It is far better trial tactics to get the district attorney to expose his hand by asking everything that he wishes to. I am also aware that it is customary for a district attorney to put on only enough of a case to bind over the defendants, without giving to the defense any inkling of the case which he has built up. However, I sense there is perhaps something unusual in the present case. Therefore, I am going to ask the Court and Counsel whether any object can be served by going into this man's occupation prior to the time he entered the employ of Hartley Basset."
"I think it can," Burger said.
"Then I won't object," Mason announced smilingly.
"Answer the question," said Judge Winters.
"I was a detective."
"A private detective?" Burger inquired.
"No, sir, I was employed by the United States Government in connection with some of its intelligence work. I left the government and took employment with the municipal police department on the detective bureau. I had been working only a few days when Mr. Basset approached me and asked me to accept employment as his chauffeur."
Perry Mason settled back in his chair. His eyes drifted over to Brunold's face, then to Sylvia Basset.
Brunold, flanked by a deputy, sat with an expressionless face. Sylvia Basset's eyes were wide with surprise.
"During the time you were employed as chauffeur for Hartley Basset, did you have any duties other than driving an automobile?" Burger asked.
"We'll stipulate," Perry Mason said, with a sneer in his voice, "that this man was employed to spy upon the wife of Hartley Basset and that he endeavored to ingratiate himself with his master by reporting facts which made such espionage seem necessary."
Burger was on his feet.
"Your Honor," he thundered, "I object to such tactics on the part of the defense. He is seeking to discredit the testimony of this witness by a slurring offer to stipulate something which can't be stipulated to."
"Why not?" Perry Mason asked.
"Because it isn't a fact," said Burger. "This man is a reputable investigator, and…"
"They're all the same," Mason interrupted.
Judge Winters banged his gavel. "Gentlemen," he said, "I am going to have no more such discussions. And you, Mr. Mason, will make no more interpolations. You will confine your remarks to the Court and the crossexamination of witnesses, subject to your right to make objections in a proper and respectful manner."
Perry Mason nodded, sprawled out in his chair and smiled slightly.
"Your Honor," he said, "I beg the Court's pardon."
"Go on, Mr. Burger," said Judge Winters.
Burger took a deep breath; seemed to control his temper with an effort and said, "Just answer the question, Mr. Overton. What other duties did you have?"
"I was employed by Mr. Basset to keep him advised as to certain things that went on in his household."
"What things?"
"He told me that he wanted me to be his listening post."
"Was 'listening post' the expression he used?"
"Yes."
"Now, then, let me first lay the preliminary foundation. When did you last see Hartley Basset?"
"On the fourteenth."
"Was he alive?"
"He was when I first saw him on that date."
"The last time you saw him, was he alive?"
"No, sir, he was dead."
"Where was he?"
"He was lying in his inner office, sprawled out on the floor, a blanket and a quilt, folded together, lying near one side of his head, his arms outstretched, a.38 Colt Police Positive revolver lying on the floor near his left hand, a.38 caliber Smith and Wesson revolver near his right hand. This second gun was concealed under the blanket and quilt."
"And Mr. Basset was dead?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know that of your own knowledge?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who was present in the room at the time you saw Mr. Basset's body?"
"Sergeant Holcomb of the Homicide Squad, two detectives whose names I don't know, and a criminologist who works with the Homicide Squad. I think his name is Shearer."
"Did you notice anything in the left hand of the corpse?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was it?"
"A glass eye."
"Was that glass eye marked at that time and in your presence by any of these gentlemen, so that it could be identified again?"
&nb
sp; "Yes, sir."
"By whom was it marked?"
"Mr. Shearer."
"What mark was placed upon it?"
"He took some black substance—ink, or a nitrate of silver compound—I don't know just what it was, and made certain marks on the interior surface of the eye."
"Would you recognize that eye if you saw it again?"
"Yes, sir."
Burger produced a sealed envelope, went through an elaborate formality of cutting open the envelope, shook out a glass eye, and handed it to Overton.
"Is this the eye?"
"Yes, sir, that's it."
"Had you ever seen that eye before?" Burger asked. Overton nodded his head emphatically.
"Yes, sir," he said, "I had seen that eye before."
"Where?"
"In the possession of Mr. Basset."
Perry Mason sat forward in his chair, his eyes slitted In thoughtful concentration.
Burger glanced at him triumphantly. "You mean," he said, "that you saw this eye in the possession of Mr. Basset before the murder?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long before?"
"Twentyfour hours before."
"Was that," asked Burger, spacing the words so as to get the utmost dramatic effect from the question, "the first time you had ever seen that bloodshot glass eye?"
"No, sir," said Overton.
Judge Winters did the witness the honor of leaning forward and cupping his hand back of his ear, so that he might miss no word.
Burger asked impressively, "When did you first see that eye?"
"About one hour before I first saw it in Basset's possession."
"Where was it then?"
"Just a moment," Perry Mason said. "I object to the question on the ground that it is incompetent, irrelevant, immaterial, assumes a fact not in evidence, and no proper foundation has been laid."
"Specifically, what does your objection relate to, Counselor," Judge Winters asked.
"To the fact that it is a conclusion of the witness as to whether the eye which he saw in the hand of the dead man is the same eye that he saw twentyfour hours before or twentyfive hours before, depending upon which occasion he is now about to testify to. Your Honor will remember that there was an identification mark placed upon the eye when it was taken from the hand of the dead man. The witness is able to testify now and identify the bloodshot eye by reason of that identifying mark.
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