“We’ll put it this way,” Mason said. “It was easy to get acquainted with you?”

  “I was a hostess.”

  “And, as such, it was easy to get acquainted with you?”

  “I was simply doing my duty as a hostess.”

  “It was easy to get acquainted with you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You made it that way?”

  “If you want to put it that way, yes.”

  “And you were particularly easy to get acquainted with as far as wealthy men were concerned who were in a position to spend money on the gambling tables. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes!” she snapped.

  “And, having become acquainted with them, you made it a point to encourage them in their gambling. You kept hanging around the gambling tables doing a little gambling of your own and chatting with these men so that they would continue their gambling after they might otherwise have quit.”

  “As a hostess I tried to be attractive.”

  “And you were frequently at the gambling tables?”

  “Yes.”

  “You used chips?”

  “Always.”

  “Now then, when you first met Morley L. Theilman, he was gambling at a table, was he not?”

  “I believe he was.”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Yes, I think he was.”

  “And you were gambling at that table?”

  “Yes.”

  “With chips?”

  “I’ve told you. I always used chips.”

  “And they were a special chip, were they not? They were not redeem-able. You had these chips given to you. You gambled with them but they couldn’t be redeemed for money. Your gambling was simply an act.”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet you want these jurors to believe you don’t know what is meant by the term ‘shill’?” Mason asked.

  “I’ve heard the term used.”

  “Have you ever used it?”

  “I … I may have.”

  “Did you use the term without knowing what it meant?”

  “Well, I knew what it meant in the sense that I used it.”

  “And what was the sense in which you used it?”

  “Well, a shill is a come-on.”

  “Exactly,” Mason said. “So when you told me that you didn’t know what a shill meant, you were not being entirely frank, were you?”

  “Oh, Your Honor,” Ruskin said, “this is attempting to browbeat the witness. The question is argumentative, it is not proper cross-examination, it—”

  “Overruled,” Judge Seymour snapped.

  “Answer the question,” Mason said.

  “Well, I didn’t know the sense in which you used the term. You made it sound rather … rather … “

  “Undignified?” Mason prompted.

  “Something like that.”

  “You considered yourself dignified?”

  “I tried to be dignified.”

  “And ladylike?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, nevertheless, to use your own words, you were a come-on.”

  She bit her lip. “Oh, all right. I was a come-on.”

  “Now,” Mason said, “when you first met Morley L. Theilman, you went to a table where he was already gambling, did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did someone direct you to go to that table, some person who represented your employer and who pointed out Morley Theilman to you?

  Didn’t this person tell you to go over there and get to work on him? Isn’t that right?”

  “The expression, ‘get to work on him,’ wasn’t used.”

  “But you knew what was meant?”

  “As a hostess I went to the table, and when Mr. Theilman won, I smiled at him and that broke the ice.”

  “What ice?” Mason asked.

  “Well, you know, it gave him a chance to get acquainted.”

  “Did you think there was ice?”

  “I used the expression as a figure of speech.”

  “And I am using it as a figure of speech,” Mason said. “I didn’t mean that there were icicles dripping all over this tight-clinging gown that you were wearing. I realized that you referred to ice in a figurative manner of speaking and I used the term in the same sense. Now, was there any ice to break?”

  “It depends on how you look at it.”

  “You went over there to get acquainted with him?”

  “Well … “

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes,” she blazed. And then suddenly raising her voice and her eyes, said, “I was employed as a hostess. You don’t need to act so dumb, Perry Mason. You’ve been to Las Vegas.”

  Mason bowed and said, “Exactly. And thank you very much, Mrs. Theilman. I was simply trying to get the picture clear for the jurors.”

  “If the Court please,” Ruskin said, “I must insist that counsel’s attitude toward this witness is manifestly unfair, that he is browbeating the witness and trying to put her in a false light before the jury. This woman is a widow. She has been bereaved by a crime of murder committed by—”

  “Now, just a minute,” Mason interrupted. “There is no question before the Court; there is no reason for counsel to argue the case at this time.”

  “But I object to having this woman held up in front of this jury as a strumpet,” Ruskin shouted.

  “And I object to having her held up as a mealy-mouthed, persecuted, bereaved widow simply so the prosecutor can play on the sympathies of the jury,” Mason retorted.

  Judge Seymour frowned. “There is at the present time no question before the Court, therefore there is no reason to make an objection. The jurors are called upon to see the witnesses, to watch their demeanor on the stand, to form their own opinions as to the facts. The prosecutor has one theory of the case, the defense has another. Please try to avoid personalities, gentlemen. You may proceed, Mr. Mason.”

  By this time all vestige of the fragile, helpless, bereaved widow had left the witness. She was sitting slightly forward on the witness stand, her chin up, her eyes blazing with anger at Perry Mason.

  “Now then,” Mason said, “you saw this letter in your husband’s pocket.”

  “If you want to call it a letter—a blackmail demand,” she snapped.

  “And the envelope.”

  “And the envelope,” she mimicked.

  “And the envelope had the return address in the upper left-hand corner and the name of A. B. Vidal.”

  “And,” she mimicked, “the envelope had the name in the upper left-hand corner, A. B. Vidal.” She was now thoroughly angry and making no attempt to conceal her emotions.

  “Now, you say this was a blackmail letter,” Mason said. “How do you know it was blackmail?”

  “How do I know anything?” she blazed. “What did you think it was, an invitation to a dance?”

  There was a titter of merriment in the courtroom which Judge Seymour frowned into silence.

  “And the return address on the envelope gave the name of A. B. Vidal.”

  Again she mimicked him. “The return address on the envelope gave the name of A. B. Vidal, Mr. Mason.”

  “Now then,” Mason said, “please tell the jury what your maiden name was, Mrs. Theilman.”

  “My name,” she said, “was Day Dawns.”

  “Was that the name with which you were christened?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I was there at the time but I couldn’t remember the occurrence.”

  “Was that the name you used when you first entered school?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t remember when I first entered school.”

  “Was it the name you used at the age of twelve?”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, “It was a professional name, as you should realize, Mr. Mason. It was intended to be a professional name.”

  “I see,” Mason said, “and what was your real name?”

  “I … “

  “Yes, go on,” Mason said.

  “Agnes,” she said.

  “Agnes what?”

  “Agnes Vidal!” she shouted.

  “Thank you,” Mason said. “That is all.”

  Ruskin said, in a quietly soothing voice, “Now, just a moment, Mrs. Theilman. I can appreciate your anger at being subjected to the veiled insinuations of counsel. I am asking you now please to face the jury and explain to them why the name A. B. Vidal meant nothing to you when you saw it on the upper left-hand corner of this envelope as a return address.”

  “I felt,” she said, struggling to get back into her act of demure bereavement, “that some blackmailer was using the name Vidal in order to impress my husband that he knew … well, all about me.”

  “Did you send this letter?”

  “Indeed not.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Did you know about it being sent?”

  “Only what I have stated in my testimony.”

  “Therefore, what impression did the name A. B. Vidal make on your mind?”

  Judge Seymour glanced at Mason. “Is there any objection to the witness testifying to the thoughts that were in her mind?”

  “Not in the least,” Mason said. “I would like to cross-examine the witness on that point.”

  The witness again glared at Mason and raised her voice angrily. “I was simply sure that it was blackmail, that someone was using this name in order to impress my husband.”

  “That’s all my redirect examination,” Ruskin said.

  “Recross?” Judge Seymour asked Mason.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I would like to ask the witness what there was in her past that would make it seem to her that the use of her maiden name would have connotations of blackmail in the mind of her husband.”

  “Just a minute, just a minute,” Ruskin shouted, jumping to his feet. “The witness didn’t say anything of the sort. The question is improper. It’s argumentative, it calls for facts not in evidence, it has to do with intangibles, it’s no part of cross-examination.”

  “On the contrary,” Mason said, “the prosecution opened the door, the witness was asked about her frame of mind, and I insist that my question is based upon a fair interpretation of the witness’s answer.”

  “I think the prosecution may have opened the door,” Judge Seymour said, “but that doesn’t mean that we can spend our time going into matters which are not relevant. However, in view of the nature of the redirect examination, I am going to permit this one question.”

  “May I have the question read, please?” Mrs. Theilman asked.

  The court reporter read the question. “I would like to ask the witness what there was in her past that would make it seem to her that the use of her maiden name would have connotations of blackmail in the mind of her husband.”

  The witness hesitated.

  “You understand the question?” Mason asked.

  “I’m not sure that I do.”

  “What was there in your past which would make you feel that the use of your name was connected with blackmail?”

  “Nothing!” she fairly spat at him. “Absolutely nothing!”

  Mason smiled urbanely. “Thank you,” he said, “that concludes my recross-examination.”

  “That’s all,” Ruskin said.

  The witness, still angry, got up from the witness stand and strode around the counsel table, glaring at Mason as she passed.

  Mason turned to Janice Wainwright who was seated directly behind him and whispered reassuringly. “That demolishes the picture of the demure little widow, bowed down by grief,” he said.

  Ruskin, recognizing Mason’s tactics and realizing the extent to which the picture he had wished to create in the minds of the jury had been marred by Mrs. Theilman’s anger, called Lt. Tragg to the stand.

  Lt. Tragg, his manner crisply professional, described the scene of the murder. He had, he explained, been called in to co-operate with men from the sheriff’s office because he had been working on the case after it appeared that Morley Theilman had vanished following receipt of a blackmail letter.

  Calmly, unemotionally and objectively he described the conditions in the building which had been used as a real estate office. There was a davenport which could be made into a double bed, a toilet and shower, a somewhat battered desk, several chairs, a counter running the length of the place, a storage cupboard in which there were old contracts of sale and descriptive brochures.

  The body lay face down on the floor with the right hand stretched slightly above the head, the left hand on a level with the left hip. The body, Lt. Tragg pointed out, was quite stiff at that time. The phenomenon known as rigor mortis had fully developed so as to encompass the entire body.

  “What time was it that you first saw the body?” Ruskin asked.

  “It was seven-twenty-seven p.m.”

  “That was on Wednesday, the fourth?” Ruskin asked.

  “That is correct.”

  “Do you know of your own knowledge when the body had first been discovered?”

  “Not of my own knowledge, no.”

  “You know when you were first notified?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Shortly before six o’clock.”

  “You may inquire,” Ruskin said.

  “Was the davenport made into a bed?” Mason asked.

  “No, sir. It had been folded back as a davenport.”

  “How do you know it had been folded back? How do you know it had ever been unfolded?”

  “I don’t know.” Tragg said at length.

  “Thank you. That’s all,” Mason said.

  “Doctor Lombard G. Jasper,” Ruskin announced.

  Dr. Jasper came forward, was sworn, testified that he was an assistant autopsy surgeon, that he had examined the body of Morley L. Theilman before it had been moved from the real estate office where it was found; that his examination was at approximately seven-thirty on Wednesday, the fourth; that in his opinion the time of death had been somewhere between the hours of midnight and five o’clock in the morning.

  “Cross-examine,” Ruskin snapped.

  “How do you fix the time of death, Doctor?” Mason asked.

  “By various factors which furnish the trained forensic pathologist with clues.”

  Mason asked, “And what are these various factors which furnish the forensic pathologist with clues?”

  “Post-mortem lividity, for one.”

  “What else?”

  “The development of rigor mortis—the time of onset, the time of duration and the time of departure.”

  “Now then,” Mason said, “let’s forget the technical patter, Doctor, if we may, and describe these things in terms the jury can understand. What is post-mortem lividity?”

  “It is a distinctive color of the corpse due to the gravitational settling and subsequent coagulation of blood in the capillaries.”

  “I see you’re not doing very well,” Perry Mason said. “Perhaps I can help you clarify things a little, Doctor. During life there is a blood pressure, is there not?”

  “Yes.”

  “After death this blood pressure is reduced to zero?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the blood naturally settles to the lower parts of the body of the deceased.”

  “Yes.”

  “And, since it ceases to circulate, it begins to coagulate.”

  “Yes.”

  “So the lower parts of the body have a peculiar color, a certain so-called lividity due to this settling and coagulation of the blood?”

  “Yes.”

  “How soon after death does that post-mortem lividity begin to establish itself? That is, how soon after death does it become evident?”

  “Well, it begins to be apparent in from one to two hours after death.”

  “And remains how long after death?”

  “For some considerable period of time.”

  “As much as twelve hours?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “As much as twenty-four hours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Therefore,” Mason said, “when you refer to postmortem lividity as indicating the time of death, it would only show that a man had been dead for more than one hour. Isn’t that right?”

  “No. Post-mortem lividity continues to develop. The color is an indication of the time of death.”

  “Is there any difference between post-mortem lividity at the end of five hours and at the end of ten hours?”

  “By five hours I would consider that post-mortem lividity had been fully developed.”

  “And post-mortem lividity was fully developed in the body that you saw?”

  “Yes.”

  “So all that you can say as a result of post-mortem lividity is that the body of the man you saw had been lying there for more than five hours, that death had occurred more than five hours earlier. Is that right?”

  “Well … there were other factors.”

  “Never mind the other factors right now,” Mason said. “I’m talking about post-mortem lividity alone. Isn’t it a fact that all you could learn from the post-mortem lividity of that body in the condition that you saw it, and I am talking now, Doctor, about post-mortem lividity alone, is that in your opinion the man had been dead more than five hours?”

  The doctor hesitated perceptibly.

  “Yes or no?” Mason asked.

  “Yes,” Dr. Jasper said at length.

  “Now we’ll come to the other phenomenon which you mentioned, rigor mortis. Can you describe rigor mortis so the jury will understand it?”

  “It is a stiffening of the body due to chemical changes within the muscle tissue. Immediately after death the body is very limp. Then a certain stiffness begins to develop in the face and jaws and goes down the neck, chest, arms, abdomen and finally the entire body is involved.

  “Then after a period which may be somewhat variable, the rigor begins to leave the body in the same order that it appeared. First, the neck and face become limp, then the disappearance of the rigor continues on down the body until finally the entire body becomes limp once more.”

  “And in this body that you saw, rigor had become fully developed?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Therefore you were led to believe that death had taken place, when?”