Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1950)

could be doing it for kicks. Get up there and make a fool out of Bob Noble and the whole legal process, to say nothing of me. Yes . . . she's done almost everything else to collect thrills. Why not a huge lie told right up there in public, defying the whole world to catch her in it?" I laughed incredulously. "A lie that might cost two other people their lives?" "You don't get it, Delia. I tell you that girl's not normal. Even neurotic is too mild a term. She's a thoroughly nasty, depraved specimen. I could feel it coming from her, up there on the stand — she was hating me, loathing me . . . and yet daring me to trap her. She was having the time of her life. I tell you, Delia, that girl would do anything for a bigger thrill. Maybe . . . even murder." I moistened my dry lips. "What — what about the coat, that question you asked her? Was that just a stunt?" Perry shrugged. "Random shot. But I got more than I bargained. I think it's worth taking a risk for — Oh, Paul. Sit down, boy, we've got work ahead. Not you, Delia," he added, looking suddenly worried. "You run along. See you tomorrow." With a grin at me, Paul sat down. I hesitated. "Chief, you're going to do something you shouldn't. Please don't! At least let me get into trouble with you. If Paul — " "You know I'd rather have you beside me, you being so much prettier than Paul, but it can't be helped. I don't want you mixed up in this. Go home," he said sternly, "and don't even think about anything. Scoot!" Odd as it seems, that's about what I did do. I just shrugged and gave up. The next morning, at about six, my telephone raised the dickens right on my ear. It was Perry, with a hurried series of instructions. Just to be safe I jotted down what he wanted me to do, and when he rang off, with a curt warning to me not to be late at court, I sat staring at my pad stupidly, wondering what on earth was going on. "Anyway," I mumbled aloud, "I'm glad I don't know what happened last night. Don't think I could stand it if this is a sample." At a quarter to ten, I was walking up the courthouse steps, still bewildered but puffed with pride that I'd been successful in getting what Perry wanted. Early as I was, he was there ahead of me in the lobby, pacing impatiently. Paul was with him. They bore down on me eagerly. "Got it?" Perry said. "Give it here, quick." I handed over the box I was carrying. "Just the way you described it. What's up?" I looked from him to Paul. "You two look as if you hadn't slept." "We haven't. Here, Paul — you know what to do. Rush, will you?" "Yeah," said Paul, not wasting words. He grabbed the box and disappeared. I was beginning to feel hurt. "This is no way to treat a trusted employee," I remonstrated. "Get me up at six a.m., send me out on the world's weirdest errand — " "Darling!" Perry said. He took my arm and led me to the double doors that opened into the large courtroom. "It's just that there's no time now to talk. Solace yourself with the thought that you've helped to save the Smiths. I'll tell you all about it later on." "I'm not sure I want to know," I said , resentfully. But I did feel better. Some ( thing was certainly coming to a boil! Did he mean it — was there really a way to save Martha and Don? The sudden powerful surge of hope made me realize 104 just how discouraged, how apprehensive, I had been until now. When Martha and Don were led in I smiled radiantly at them, trying to communicate without words — that this was the day their lives might be given back to them. They smiled back — faintly at first, then with slowly growing eagerness. When Perry strode in, he was carrying the box with him — the departmentstore box I had turned over to him in the lobby. He put it carefully before him on the table. Before I had time to ask any questions, Judge Neuman entered, and court was convened. Without preamble, Perry asked that Allyn Whitlock be recalled to the stand. There was a brief remonstrance from Noble, but what could he do? Perry had a job to do and he wasn't going to be stopped. Noble gave way, and Allyn Whitlock, quietly dressed in about fifteen thousand dollars' worth of platinum mink, undulated to the stand, and sat down. The chief didn't bother playing cat and mouse that day. He was brisk and to the point. He began by making her go back and restate her identification of Martha as the girl she had seen coming out of Palmer's apartment. Looking at her steadily, Perry asked, "Now — you do realize the implications of that statement, Miss Whitlock?" Allvn said, "I'm afraid I do." "Afraid? Why so?" "Because I'm . . . I'm sorry I said it." Perry leaned toward her eagerly. "You mean you want to withdraw that statement — correct it? You mean you didn't see Martha Smith at all?" "Oh, no. I saw her." Allyn's hand clenched convulsively. "I saw her. I meant — I'm sorry to be the one who saw her. It's a terrible burden to bear witness. . . ." "I'm sure it bothers you greatly," Perry said softly. "Now, back to that evening. You said, I think, that you came home early?" He checked some notes in his hand. "About five?" Allyn appeared to consider. "Around five," she agreed. "Do you happen to remember what you did between five and eight, when you heard the scream?" "Not exactly. I've told all that—" "Indulge me, Miss Whitlock. These legal technicalities . . . Well. You don't remember. Ah — do you happen to recall what you were wearing when you came home?" Allyn stirred uneasily. "Well, really, it was so long ago." Noble was on his feet, objecting. "She doesn't remember, Mason. There's your answer. Now get on with something pertinent to the case!" Perry bowed slightly. "I hope to show that Miss Whitlock's attire that night is pertinent. Extremely so." He faced the stand once more, and said with cold emphasis, "I also think I can refresh her memory. I heard she was wearing a tan coat when she came in." Allyn said, too quickly, "No!" Bob Noble shoved back his chair arid slowly, deliberately, stood up. "You don't remember what you wore, Miss Whitlock?" he asked. "No — I don't remember — " "If she doesn't remember," Perry interposed, "how can she be sure it was not a tan coat?" "Because I don't have a tan coat! Because I don't own — " Inarticulate with rage and confusion, Allyn stopped. Perry said sadly, "I'm afraid Miss Whitlock's confused. You recall, Mr. Noble — her sworn testimony, yesterday, revealed she does have a tan coat." "I remember," Noble said grimly. By this time everyone in the room was aware that something unprecedented had just taken place. A prosecuting attorney had halted in midstream, forced to turn against his own witness. The room was spellbound, waiting. Perry didn't let it go on too much longer. He played her for a little while Allyn tried to claim she had lost the coat in a theater. She changed that, and said her maid had stolen it. She began to go to pieces right before our eyes and the spectacle was ghastly. "Your maid stole the coat, Miss Whitlock. What a shame! Delia — that box, please." Stiff with excitement, I handed it to him. Very slowly he began to untie the cord. "Yes. In that case you'll be thrilled when you see what I have here, Miss Whitlock. Thrilled and . . delighted . . ." Perry whipped aside the paper and drew out the tan polo coat which, that morning on the phone, he had ordered me to buy, giving me a detailed description of what he wanted. Allyn stared wildly, unbelievingly, at the coat. Her lips moved, but no sound came. Perry advanced, holding the coat with the right sleeve outstretched. No matter how she turned, she had to look at it ... at the brown-red splotches that disfigured the light fabric? "Here it is, Miss Whitlock! Your tan coat — the coat you wore when you took a knife and plunged it down—down — into Wilfred Palmer's rotten heart!" Allyn Whitlock took her hands away from her mouth. Her face was distorted. "It's a lie, a lie," she screamed. "That's not my coat! You'll never find my coat — it's gone, burnt. Nobody can find it! It's a trick!" "Quite right, Miss Whitlock." Perry dropped the coat lightly into its box. He stepped down from the stand and dusted his hands together. "As you say, a trick. Unfortunately for you, it worked. Mr. Noble, do you wish to take over?" Well — that was it. It was all over. Dazed with joy, the Smiths were acquitted. And Allyn Whitlock was held on suspicion of murder. And Perry explained about the coat. He and Paul had burgled Allyn's apartment, found the coat — a hunch that paid off! — and rushed it to a laboratory to test the stains for blood type. Either they were seen, or in some other way made themselves too obvious, for they discovered next morning that the coat had been stolen. "It seems Allyn Whitlock's been keeping company no nice girl should keep." Perry said ruefully. "Experienced thugs pulled that one off. Her current boy friend must be someone pretty high up in the underworld! I realized the real coat was gone forever. So, with customary brilliance — " he grinned, " — I conceived the plan of having you purchase a duplicate coat. Paul then stained it, and it was my devout hope that it would deceive the Whitlock woman long enough to shock the truth out of her." He waved his hand airly. "The rest you know. "Oh — just one thing, Delia," he added as I started to enter Blake's, where he had said he'd buy me a steak dinner to celebrate. He pulled me back. "I think I deserve a special reward for this case. Do you suppose it would be cricket if I kissed you, just once — on the forehead, say?" He looked down at me for a long moment. "On second thought, no," he said. "You're too pretty. You might confuse me — and in my work I need a clear head at all times. Shall we dine?" Now will somebody please tell me what you can do with a man like that?