Anatomy of a Murder (38 page)

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Authors: Robert Traver

BOOK: Anatomy of a Murder
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I paused, my mind racing, feeling that this, at last, was it and that I had better be good. “Among other things this witness has testified that the defendant told him he shot Barney because his wife had had ‘some trouble' with the dead man. What kind of trouble? Had Barney called her a bad name? Had he cheated her at pinball? On the face of it it must be apparent even to a child that the defendant said more than that to Officer Durgo if he said anything at all. That he said
something
this witness has already testified. I submit and I
urge with the utmost seriousness that we should be entitled to get into that ‘something' here and now and not later on after the impression of this adroitly restricted direct testimony has jelled.” I dropped my voice; a little genteel warning might not be amiss. “It would be a pity, Your Honor,” I said, “to inject grave error into this case now when we are so close to being done.” I turned away abruptly and sat down. The fate of the whole case, I felt, now hung in the balance.
The Judge had listened intently and he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the skylight, his fingertips together and his lips thoughtfully pursed. Claude Dancer arose and advanced as though to give argument, but the Judge waved him away. The courtroom grew hushed. I heard the electric click of the clock on the wall behind me and it sounded like a brass gong. The Judge leaned forward and looked at the clock as though to mark the hour of his decision.
“I am going to take the answer,” he said.
“The defendant told us that the deceased had raped his wife,” Julian Durgo said quietly.
I sighed inwardly and was glad I was seated. “At last,” I thought, “at last I got the lady laid!” Never had I had a harder chore, in court or out … .
“What else?”
“He said he had taken a nap earlier and that around nine o'clock his wife had gone to the hotel bar to get some beer and that he had planned to join her later. The next thing he knew he heard some screams—and his wife fell in his arms.”
“And you saw the wife?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What shape was she in?”
“She was semi-hysterical and sobbing and her face and arms were badly bruised.”
“And did she tell you her story?”
“She did.”
“And what did she say?”
“Objection, Your Honor—this—”
“The objection is overruled. Proceed.”
“She said that Barney Quill had raped her and beat her up.”
“Without going into detail now, Sergeant, did you ask her and did she tell you that Barney Quill had raped her?”
“I did and she did.”
“In great detail?”
“In great detail.”
“And did she tell you it was in the woods on the other side of the main road?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And about the second attack back at the tourist park gate when she escaped and was caught and further assaulted and screamed and then finally escaped?”
“She did, sir.”
“And did she lead you officers to the side road where the first attack was alleged to have occurred?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you find tire marks and burns and dog tracks in on that road?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And looked for her panties but couldn't find them?”
“Correct, sir.”
“And was this the ‘some trouble' that Lieutenant Manion referred to?”
“It was.”
“And was it your notion to come in to this court and call it that?”
Quietly: “It was not, sir.”
“Was the suggestion made to you to call it that by someone now in this room?”
The witness looked over at Claude Dancer, as I guessed he would, like a careful officer, to confirm that he was still there. “He is, sir.”
I paused and decided to let the subject rest there; I had got Julian Durgo off the hook and rested the blame finally where it belonged.
“There has been testimony here, Officer, that you were given Laura Manion's torn skirt for the purpose of having it tested for sperm or seminal stain. Was it so tested?”
“It was, sir.”
“And the results?”
“They were negative.”
I had been afraid of that, but I had to make sure on the off-chance that the People's studied silence on the subject had been an attempt to cover up. Claude Dancer had finally sprung one of his little traps on me and he grinned amiably across at me and, wincing, I gravely nodded my congratulations.
“And the clothing worn by the deceased—were they so tested too?”
I pressed doggedly on, like a boxer being helplessly clubbed on the ropes.
“They were.”
“And the results?”
“Also negative, sir.”
Again a delighted and toothsome Claude Dancer grinned happily over at me. “Would the fact that they were blood-soaked have had any effects on the test?” I went glumly on, taking a shot in the dark.
“It would, sir,” the witness answered. “In fact our laboratory man did not see any use in testing them—it seems that excessive blood has a tendency to obliterate or merge evidence of sperm or seminal stain—but he nevertheless did so to complete the tests and quiet any future argument.”
Well, I'd softened the blow a little, at least. My next question was aimed more at the jury than at the witness. “There was also present the great possibility that if the deceased
had
raped Mrs. Manion, he would doubtless have changed his clothes before he was shot, was there not?”
Claude Dancer half rose in his chair, as though to object, and then, thinking better, slowly sank back.
“You're reprieved,” I prompted the witness. “You may dare to speak now without mortal danger.”
“Yes, sir,” the witness replied, and at last I was able to leer back at Claude Dancer. It was time, I saw, to forsake the uneasy subject of blood-stained clothing.
“Now, Officer,” I said. “I assume you conducted an independent investigation then and later to check on the story of the alleged rape, did you not?”
“I did, sir; an extensive one.”
“And did that investigation tend to confirm or refute Mrs. Manion's story of the rape?”
“Confirm it, sir.”
“In every particular?”
“In every particular.”
“And what were some of these things that confirmed your opinion on that score?”
“Well, sir, the scene of the attack, which I've described.” He paused. “The biggest thing was the screams.”
“Screams, Detective? What screams?” If I looked surprised I was sure it was not half as much as I felt.
“Mrs. Manion had told us she had screamed several times at the gate. We naturally checked on that—not only to find out if she had screamed but whether the screams might not have instead come from the trailer.”
“You mean, Officer, to find out whether it might not have been her husband who beat her up for staying out alley-catting?”
He smiled slightly. “Well, yes, sir, that's about it.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That the screams came from the gate, as she had said. We found four tourists whose trailers were closest to the main gate. They all said they were awakened around midnight by a series of screams coming from the gate. One of them also heard a moaning and a dull thud, like something hitting the ground.”
“And you have the names and addresses of these witnesses?”
“I have.”
“And you had long ago turned this information over to the prosecuting officials?”
“Yes, sir.”
I paused and glanced at my juror; I'd been neglecting him lately, but he still looked good. “Now, I ask you, Sergeant, if you are an expert pistol shot?”
Modestly: “Well, Mr. Biegler—yes, sir, I guess I am.”
“And you are familiar with pistols and ammunition?”
“I believe I am, sir.”
“And have you ever engaged in pistol shoots with persons not in police work?” (This too was a shot in the dark.)
“Occasionally.”
“In this county?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was one of them the deceased, Barney Quill?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And was he also an expert?”
“Yes, sir. I would say he was among the best I have ever seen.”
“We're up, we're down, we're up … .” I thought. I reached for the lüger among the exhibits and handed it to the witness. “Are you familiar with this type of weapon?”
“I am, sir. It is a German lüger.”
“What happens when it is empty?”
“Well, without getting technical, when it is empty—as it is now, the gun stays open, this gadget goes up, and the trigger clicks loose—like this.”
“So that a person familiar with that weapon could tell it was empty simply by looking at it, without opening it?”
“Correct.”
I took the gun and returned it to the pile of exhibits. “Returning now, Detective, to your confirmation of Mrs. Manion's story of the rape, was there anything else that tended to convince you of the truth of her story?” (I was at last trying to lead up to the lie-detector test.)
“There was.”
“What?”
The witness knew that such tests were inadmissible in court, and he glanced uncertainly at the Judge. “Well,” he said, “we questioned her again at length at the state police barracks.”
“Who is we?”
“Lieutenant Webley, myself and—” The witness hesitated.
“And who else, Sergeant?”
“Lieutenant Peterhaus, sir.”
“What does he do? I don't believe his name is endorsed on the information or was mentioned before in this case?”
“He is our expert on the polygraph.”
“And what is the polygraph?”
“It is generally known as the lie detector, sir.”
“You mean, Detective, that Mrs. Manion was given a lie-detector test?”
“Objection. Results of polygraphs never admissible in our courts, as counsel well knows.”
“Your Honor,” I said, “no one is talking about the
results
of any lie-detector test, but whether one was given.”
The Judge thoughtfully pursed his lips. “Take the answer,” he said.
“She was given such a test, yes.”
“And was this test given before or after you had determined on your own whether she was telling the truth?”
“After.”
“At whose request?”
“Mrs. Manion's.”
“And after the test was given did you change your mind on that score?”
“Your Honor, Your Honor!” Dancer was shouting behind me, nearly beside himself, making little sqealing noises, like a Japanese general fallen on his sword. “This is a sly subterfuge to get around
the rule barring such tests. The defense has never asked us for the results. I—I—”
I leered across the room at my excited friend and spoke quietly. “We ask you now, Mr. Dancer.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” the Judge said, his voice rising. “There has been a question and an objection and I must make a ruling, which I cannot do if you keep up this unholy wrangling. We are skating on thin ice, I realize, but in all conscience I cannot rule that the question is objectionable. Counsel is not asking for the results of any polygraph test but the opinion of the witness based upon certain knowledge possessed by him. Take the answer.”
“My mind did not change.”
“So that before the polygraph test you believed she was telling the truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And after?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And do you still believe it up to this moment?”
Crisply: “Yes, sir.”
“Finally, Officer, wasn't that the real reason you did not ask Dr. Raschid during the autopsy to make any tests for possible recent intercourse or the alcoholic content of the blood?”
Nodding: “Yes, sir.”
“It was never with any idea, then or now, that you or your organization wanted to suppress anything here in court?”
“Certainly not.”

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