death, in her dressing
room."
" Hmmm, " said Mearson. " Simple
matter of his word against the doorman ' s. Nothing to it. I ' ll
be able to prove that the doorman is not only a pathological liar but has a
record longer than Wilt-the-Stilt's arm."
" Indubitably, Morty. But. In view of his
relative prominence, the police took a search warrant as well as a warrant for
arrest on suspicion of murder when they went to get him. They found, in the
pocket of the suit he had been wearing, a thirty-two caliber revolver with one
cartridge fired. Miss Quinn was killed by one bullet fired from a thirty-two
caliber revolver. The very same revolver, according to the ballistics
experts of our police department, who fired a sample bullet and used a
comparison microscope on it and the bullet which killed Miss Quinn. "
" Hmmm and double hmm, " Mearson said. " And you say that Kane has made no statement
whatsoever except to the effect that he will make no statement until he has
consulted with an attorney of his choice? "
" True, except for one rather strange remark
he made immediately after being awakened and accused. Both of the arresting
officers heard it and agree on it, even to the exact wording. He said, `My God,
she must have been real!' What do you suppose he could possibly have meant by
that? "
" I haven ' t the faintest, Your
Judgeship. But if he accepts me as his attorney, I shall most certainly ask
him. Meanwhile, I don ' t know whether to thank you for giving me a
chance at the case or to cuss at you for handing me a very damned hot
potato."
"You like hot potatoes, Morty, and you know it.
Especially since you'll get your fee win or lose. I'll save you from making
wasted motions in one direction, though. No use trying for bail or for a habeas
corpus writ. The D.A. jumped in with both feet the moment the ballistics report
came up heads. The charge is formal, murder in the first. And the prosecution
doesn ' t need any more case than they have; they're ready to go to
trial as soon as they can pressure you into it. Well, what are you waiting
for?"
" Nothing, " Mearson said. He
left.
***
A guard brought Lorenz Kane to the consultation room and
left him there with Mortimer Mearson. Mearson introduced himself and they shook
hands. Kane, Mearson thought, looked quite calm, and definitely more puzzled
than worried. He was a tall, moderately good-looking man in his late thirties,
impeccably groomed despite a night in a cell. One got the idea that he was the
type of man who would manage to appear impeccably groomed anywhere, any time,
even a week after his bearers had deserted in midsafari nine hundred miles up
the Congo, taking all his possessions with them.
"Yes, Mr. Mearson. I shall be more than glad to have
you represent me. I've heard of you, read about cases you've handled. I don't know
why I didn't think of you myself, instead of asking for a recommendation. Now,
do you want to hear my story before you accept me as a client—or do you accept
as of now, for better or for worse? "
" For better or for worse, " Mearson said, " till— " And then stopped himself;
"till death do us part," is hardly a diplomatic phrase to use to a
man who stands, quite possibly, in the shadow of the electric chair.
But Kane smiled and finished the phrase himself. " Fine,"
he said. "Let's sit down then," and they sat down on the two chairs,
one on each side of the table in the consultation room. " And
since that means we ' ll be seeing quite a bit of one another for a
while, let ' s start on a first-name basis. But not Lorenz, in my
case. It's Larry."
" And make mine Morty," Mearson said. " Now
I want your story in detail, but two quick questions first. Are you—? "
'Wait," Kane interrupted him. "One quick
question ahead of your two. Are you absolutely and completely positive that
this room is not bugged, that this conversation is completely private? "
"I am, " Mearson said. " Now
my first question: are you guilty? "
" The arresting
room."
" Hmmm, " said Mearson. " Simple
matter of his word against the doorman ' s. Nothing to it. I ' ll
be able to prove that the doorman is not only a pathological liar but has a
record longer than Wilt-the-Stilt's arm."
" Indubitably, Morty. But. In view of his
relative prominence, the police took a search warrant as well as a warrant for
arrest on suspicion of murder when they went to get him. They found, in the
pocket of the suit he had been wearing, a thirty-two caliber revolver with one
cartridge fired. Miss Quinn was killed by one bullet fired from a thirty-two
caliber revolver. The very same revolver, according to the ballistics
experts of our police department, who fired a sample bullet and used a
comparison microscope on it and the bullet which killed Miss Quinn. "
" Hmmm and double hmm, " Mearson said. " And you say that Kane has made no statement
whatsoever except to the effect that he will make no statement until he has
consulted with an attorney of his choice? "
" True, except for one rather strange remark
he made immediately after being awakened and accused. Both of the arresting
officers heard it and agree on it, even to the exact wording. He said, `My God,
she must have been real!' What do you suppose he could possibly have meant by
that? "
" I haven ' t the faintest, Your
Judgeship. But if he accepts me as his attorney, I shall most certainly ask
him. Meanwhile, I don ' t know whether to thank you for giving me a
chance at the case or to cuss at you for handing me a very damned hot
potato."
"You like hot potatoes, Morty, and you know it.
Especially since you'll get your fee win or lose. I'll save you from making
wasted motions in one direction, though. No use trying for bail or for a habeas
corpus writ. The D.A. jumped in with both feet the moment the ballistics report
came up heads. The charge is formal, murder in the first. And the prosecution
doesn ' t need any more case than they have; they're ready to go to
trial as soon as they can pressure you into it. Well, what are you waiting
for?"
" Nothing, " Mearson said. He
left.
***
A guard brought Lorenz Kane to the consultation room and
left him there with Mortimer Mearson. Mearson introduced himself and they shook
hands. Kane, Mearson thought, looked quite calm, and definitely more puzzled
than worried. He was a tall, moderately good-looking man in his late thirties,
impeccably groomed despite a night in a cell. One got the idea that he was the
type of man who would manage to appear impeccably groomed anywhere, any time,
even a week after his bearers had deserted in midsafari nine hundred miles up
the Congo, taking all his possessions with them.
"Yes, Mr. Mearson. I shall be more than glad to have
you represent me. I've heard of you, read about cases you've handled. I don't know
why I didn't think of you myself, instead of asking for a recommendation. Now,
do you want to hear my story before you accept me as a client—or do you accept
as of now, for better or for worse? "
" For better or for worse, " Mearson said, " till— " And then stopped himself;
"till death do us part," is hardly a diplomatic phrase to use to a
man who stands, quite possibly, in the shadow of the electric chair.
But Kane smiled and finished the phrase himself. " Fine,"
he said. "Let's sit down then," and they sat down on the two chairs,
one on each side of the table in the consultation room. " And
since that means we ' ll be seeing quite a bit of one another for a
while, let ' s start on a first-name basis. But not Lorenz, in my
case. It's Larry."
" And make mine Morty," Mearson said. " Now
I want your story in detail, but two quick questions first. Are you—? "
'Wait," Kane interrupted him. "One quick
question ahead of your two. Are you absolutely and completely positive that
this room is not bugged, that this conversation is completely private? "
"I am, " Mearson said. " Now
my first question: are you guilty? "
" The arresting
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