“Almost as soon as Veronica was born he went traipsing off to find some Land of Opportunity. He never found it. He kept me broke financing his travels, but always he’d have the same reassuring line of talk.

  “Sakes alive, that man could make you thrill all over when he talked to you. He was full of golden dreams. Sometimes he’d tell me about business opportunities he’d just missed by not being there just a little mite sooner. Seemed like he missed a chance to be a millionaire a couple of times – just missed it by a day or two. He was killed in an automobile accident when Veronica was five.”

  “And how long since Veronica left on this last trip?”

  “Something over a year. I’d get postal cards from her at different parts of the country. I never had any chance to write to her. She was always on the move. Sometimes it’d be three or four months before I’d get a card from her, and when I did get one she’d just tell me the places she’d been. She didn’t write any news, just a list of the places she’d been through. Seems like that’s all she’s interested in, just travel.”

  “Has Veronica ever had any trouble on her travels?”

  “Not a speck, Mr Mason. She’s a wonder when it comes to handling people. She can look them right in the eye and make them feel lower than the dirt under her feet. And I don’t know for the life of me how she does it. It’s just the way she can get that baby stare in her blue eyes.

  “And then again when she feels like kidding along she can be the life of the party. But most of the time she likes to sit back and be quiet like. And you never saw anything like the way she can get what she wants out of people. All she has to do is just crook her finger and people fall all over themselves doing just what that girl wants.”

  Mrs Dale beamed with pride.

  “Does she ever get pressed for money and wire you for help?” Mason asked.

  “Bless you no! That girl’s the best little financier. How she does it, I don’t know, but every time I see her, she’s well dressed and she has plenty of money. She actually buys me presents every time she comes home. And travel! Mr Mason, you’d be surprised the places that girl has been. I guess she’s been almost every place in the United States and once she went right on down to Mexico City.

  “My, but I’m dying to see her!”

  “You may have to wait until tomorrow to see her. She’s busy with some things now.”

  “That’s Veronica. She’s always busy as a bee. No grass ever grows under her feet.”

  Mason said, “I’d like to have some proof that you’re Veronica’s real mother, just to keep the record straight. Could you furnish any?”

  “Why, Mr Mason, of course I’m Veronica’s mother.”

  “I understand, but can you prove it? I may have to show some evidence as to who you are.”

  “Well, I’ve my driving licence and – the card Veronica sent me, and pictures of her.”

  She opened her purse, handed Mason a driver’s licence, some snapshots, and a post card.

  Mason studied them for a moment, then went to the telephone and called Hamilton Burger’s office.

  When a secretary answered the telephone, Mason said, “I know it’s after office hours, but I felt that Mr Burger might have gone to his office after court. This is Perry Mason talking. I’d like to speak with him.”

  “Just a moment. He’s here. He’s just leaving for home.” Mason heard the girl’s voice say, “Mr Mason wants to talk with you,” then, “just a moment Mr Mason, he’s coming on the other phone.”

  There was the sound of pounding steps audible through the receiver, then Burger’s deep, booming voice growled over the telephone, “What is it, Mason?”

  Mason said, “I have a favour to ask of you.”

  “You’re in a rather disadvantageous position to seek favours. What do you want?”

  “Veronica Dale’s mother is here with me and she wants very much to see her daughter. Could you arrange it so that we could call on Veronica sometime tonight and …”

  “Very definitely not,” Burger Interrupted. “Veronica Dale is a State’s witness. If you want to talk with her, talk with her on the witness stand. I’m sorry, Mason, but that’s final. I have neither the time nor the inclination to discuss the matter. It’s late, and I’m headed for home. Goodbye!”

  The phone banged up at the other end of the line.

  Mason grinned, slipped the receiver into place and winked at Paul Drake.

  “How is Veronica?” Mrs Dale asked.

  “Doing just fine,” Mason said, “but it’s just as I anticipated. You may not be able to see her until tomorrow. Della, if Hamilton Burger should start calling for me rather frantically, be sure to tell him that I’m out and you don’t know where I can be reached.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  As Court Reconvened the next morning, Hamilton Burger, a smile on his face, arose and said, “If the Court please, Eric Hansell was on the stand and, as Court adjourned, the question had arisen over Counsel’s questioning of Hansell concerning female accomplices.”

  Judge Keetley nodded. “The Court will sustain your objection, Mr. Burger. The law gives the Defense the right to impeach this witness by showing he has been convicted of one or more felonies. That does not permit Counsel to introduce evidence of specific details for the purpose of stultifying the witness.

  “That is the Court’s ruling. Mr. Hansell will take the witness stand. Proceed with your cross-examination, Mr. Mason.”

  “In this present case,” Mason asked Hansell, “how did you get the information which enabled you to approach Addison, as you claim you did?”

  “You gave it to me by rushing down to jail to furnish bail for Veronica Dale.”

  “And just how did that give you any lead to Mr. Addison, the defendant in the case?” Mason asked.

  “Well, sir, I hang around the press room at police headquarters quite a bit. I know some of the boys there, and, through arrangements with a friend of mine, I have certain courtesies. I pass the boys a tip once in a while and I’m always ready to help out. They give me tips. None of them, of course, knew what I was doing. They all thought I was freelancing information for a columnist friend of mine. And that’s what I did do most of the time.

  “Well, when the word got around that you had come tearing down there to defend some babe that was charged with vagrancy, it didn’t mean much to the other fellows, but that’s the sort of stuff that’s right down my alley. I started looking around. I found out the girl was registered at the Rockaway Hotel and that the charges against her had been dismissed.

  “I still didn’t have anything to go on, but I went up to the Rockaway Hotel and told them I was representing the Press and wanted to know about the case, and the clerk, who had been pretty well filled up with being questioned up one side and down the other, told me he’d given the police all the information he had; that the jane had come in to get a room; that the manager of the hotel had telephoned to see that she got one.

  “I went to the manager of the hotel. I told him I was representing a columnist, and we wanted to know how come that this cutie rated his personal attention. I spread it on pretty thick that we had a tip she was his dish, and he got in a panic and let the cat out of the bag before he thought what he was doing. He said that Addison had telephoned in to see about getting a room for her.

  “Well, so far I hadn’t got anything except a run-around, but I went up to Addison, and I hadn’t been talking with him ten seconds before I knew I’d struck pay dirt. So then I—well, you know, I put the heat on him.”

  “You told Mr. Addison you were working for some columnist?”

  “Well, something to that effect.”

  “Who was the columnist?”

  “I don’t want to tell that. As a matter of fact, I was running a bluff there, and I don’t think it’s fair to …”

  “Neither do I, Your Honour,” Hamilton Burger said, getting to his feet. “After all, this gets back purely to a collateral matter, a conversation this man had with John Addison, the defendant in this case. I hold no brief for this witness. He is a blackmailer. I will use every bit of power my office possesses to see that his nefarious activities are brought to a halt. But, in the meantime, it happens that because of his activities, a murder case is being brought to a solution. We have here a defendant so anxious to avoid having it disclosed that he was out in the vicinity of the house where the murder was committed that he paid two thousand dollars to keep his activities from being published in a gossip column.”

  “Of course,” Judge Keetley said, “that’s only incidental and depending upon your interpretation of the evidence, Mr District Attorney. It is quite possible that the defendant was willing to pay money because of some relationship with a young woman who may have been a minor and …”

  “We expect to clear all that up by our next witness,” Hamilton Burger said. “And when Your Honour sees that witness, the Court will realize how preposterous it is to even think for one moment that anything could have transpired which would give Addison any grounds for being blackmailed. No, Your Honour, the alacrity with which this defendant tried to purchase the silence of this witness is due entirely to fear on the part of the defendant that he would be placed in the vicinity of this murder at the time it was being committed.”

  “Let me ask one question of the witness,” Judge Keetley said. “Mr Hansell, was there actually any relationship between you and the columnist whom you mentioned?”

  “Only to this extent,” Hansell said, “that from time to time I’d pass on tips to him and he’d give me a little dough once in a while and a few favours. Tickets and passes here and there, and things of that sort. You see, in my business I have to have some sort of a publishing outlet to threaten people with, but this man didn’t have the faintest idea of what I was doing and thought I was just a friend who was passing on tips.”

  “Under the circumstances,” Judge Keetley said, “I see no reason for bringing this man’s name into disrepute. After all, we have here a witness who is quite possibly giving evidence of considerable value in clearing up a murder case, but that does not constitute any justification for his reprehensible activities. The Court feels that it would be an imposition upon justice to permit this witness to sully the good name of any reputable newsman; moreover, the Court is very frank to state that in the event there is any substantial conflict in the evidence, the word of this witness will be accepted by the Court only so far as it is corroborated by other evidence.”

  “That’s all,” Mason said.

  “No further questions,” Hamilton Burger announced.

  “I take it,” Hamilton Burger said, “there is no question on the part of Counsel but what the defendant in this case actually paid this witness two thousand dollars.”

  “None whatever,” Mason said cheerfully.

  “That eliminates the necessity of introducing the cheque in evidence,” Hamilton Burger said.

  Judge Keetley, leaning forward from the bench, said, “Mr District Attorney, it occurs to me that while the question of whether a witness should be given immunity is entirely within your discretion, the witness in question shows a smug complacency, a complete lack of repentance, a flippant disregard for all ethical considerations.”

  “I think, if the Court please,” Burger said, flushing slightly, “there are certain matters in the background which Counsel could have brought out on cross-examination had he desired, which would account for the attitude of the witness. There is a certain personal element of antagonism in the case between Counsel and this witness, due to things – well, things which I cannot with propriety comment on at the moment. But I can assure Your Honour that the action of my office in granting this witness immunity from the charge of extortion was taken with considerable reluctance and only after a very searching investigation.”

  “Very well,” Judge Keetley said, “I merely wanted to call your attention to the fact that the demeanour of this witness on the stand does, not impress me at all favourably. Call your next witness.”

  “Veronica Dale,” Hamilton Burger said.

  A matron opened the door of the witness room, brought Veronica Dale into court.

  She was attired in neat-fitting cream-coloured tailored suit, which, matching her blonde beauty, gave her a virginal appearance of innocence, an angelic beauty which struck the crowded courtroom with terrific impact.

  The witness apparently knew exactly the part she was to play, and, from the moment she entered the courtroom, registered as a beautifully sweet young woman. Courtroom attaches whispered that any attempt on the part of Perry Mason to cross-examine her at length would be disastrous in that it would alienate the sympathy of spectators and judge alike.

  Hamilton Burger set the stage for her act by arising, his manner plainly indicating that he considered it a shame such an unspoiled child should be forced to enter the sordid atmosphere of a murder trial.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, deferentially.

  Veronica Dale lowered her lids, said primly and in a voice that was barely audible, “Veronica Dale.”

  “How old are you, Veronica?”

  Her voice this time was hardly more than a whisper, “Just eighteen.”

  “Hand the witness the microphone,” Judge Keetley said.

  A bailiff handed the microphone to Veronica Dale.

  “Use that to talk into,” Judge Keetley said. “Try and talk as loud as you can.”

  “Yes, sir,” Veronica Dale said submissively.

  “Now, where do you live, Veronica?”

  “Well, I don’t exactly have any residence,” she said. “My mother lives in a small town in Indiana. I left home to try and find some way of bettering myself. I had just come here to this city when – when all of these things happened to me.”

  She blinked back tears.

  “I understand,” Burger said sympathetically, his manner showing that he intended to use every effort at his disposal to shield the unsullied innocence of this child. “Now, I’ll try to make this as easy on you as I can and make my examination just as short as possible. I hope we can spare you any great ordeal, Veronica.”

  And Hamilton Burger glanced significantly at Perry Mason, as though warning the lawyer to keep his cross-examination equally short.

  The spectators were leaning forward, listening intently, afraid they might miss some word.

  Judge Keetley was also absorbed in listening, his eyes showing keen and sympathetic interest.

  “Now, Veronica,” Hamilton Burger said, “you’re acquainted with the defendant in this case, John Racer Addison, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “When did you first meet him?”

  “On the night of the ninth.”

  “Where?”

  “He gave me a ride.”

  “I understand, but just where were you, Veronica, when he gave you a ride?”

  “I was sitting beside a culvert.”

  “Now, Veronica, since you have talked with me, you have been taken out by the sheriff’s office along the road where you met the defendant?”

  “Yes,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  “Speak up, Veronica, so we can hear you. And did you point out that culvert to the sheriff?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And was a photograph taken of that culvert in your presence?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your Honour,” Mason said, “Counsel is leading this witness, putting the words in her mouth. His entire examination is viciously leading.”

  Burger glowered at Mason. “If the Court please, we have here a young woman from a small town, a frightened young child. I say to you that it is a shame this young woman should be sucked into the atmosphere of crime. It is monstrous that a murderer should have been at liberty to give her a ride …”

  “The Court understands,” Judge Keetley interrupted, “but try and refrain from leading the witness.”

  “Very well, Your Honour.”

  Burger glared at Mason, then turned to Veronica. “Now, I show you a photograph and ask you if you recognize the place shown in that photograph.”

  Hamilton Burger passed a copy of the photograph to Mason, said, “That is a print I have made for you, Counsellor. It shows a section of the road which I will presently locate on a map. The picture is taken facing west. Now, Veronica, I hand you that picture and ask you if you can identify it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s the culvert where I was waiting when Mr Addison came along in his car. I was sitting right here on that little cement projection, and then when I heard the car coming I stood up.”

  “Yes. Now where did this car come from, if you know?”

  “It came from a side road, down here, over at this part of the picture.”

  “Did you see the car?”

  “Not the car, but I could catch glimpses of the lights and I could hear the motor. The night was calm and still.”

  “And what happened?”

  “This car motor sounded very plainly as it went along a dirt road that was screened with willows, a road that’s back here.”

  “Now, Veronica, I’m going to show you a map, a map of the house where the body of Mr Edgar Z Ferrell was found and showing some of the surrounding terrain. This is a map which has been previously introduced in evidence. Now, can you orient yourself on that map?”

  “Orient myself?” she asked.

  “Get yourself located, show just where you were, just where the culvert is.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, studying the map, and then, with the swift alacrity of one who has been well coached and who has thoroughly familiarized herself with the map in question, said, “I was sitting right here. That’s where the culvert is.”

  “I will mark that spot with the figure number one in a circle,” Hamilton Burger said, making a mark on the map. “Now, Veronica, can you tell us where that car came from?”

  “Yes, it came along this road over here.”

  “Indicating two parallel lines on the map which bear the legend ROAD CONNECTING FERRELL COUNTRY PLACE WITH MAIN ROADWAY,” Hamilton Burger said. “Now, go right ahead, Veronica, and tell us what happened.”