Dan and the Death-Cell Bluff

“If the court will be indulgent for a very few minutes,” John Farraday said, “Mr. Fact’s testimony will bring out why it was necessary for the defense to allow the prosecution to present its full case, even though a motion to dismiss based on the same testimony you are about to hear would undoubtedly have been granted before the trial started.”

The judge frowned at the silver-haired lawyer. “I don’t understand that statement, counsellor. And if this testimony you speak of is directed solely at the court, suppose I declare a recess and take it informally in my chamber?”

“That would be more proper procedure,” Farraday admitted. “However, the defense has a particular reason for handling the matter in this way, and I beg the court’s indulgence.”

“Go ahead, then,” the judge decided. “But I warn you, if it develops you have deliberately allowed this court to waste its time, not to mention the time of the jurors and the witnesses involved, I will take a serious view of the matter.”

Farraday nodded agreeably. “Now, Mr. Fact,” he said, returning to the witness, “please look at the defendant and tell the court if you know him.”

The little man glanced at Dan Fancy. “Yes, sir. I know him well.”

“What is your relationship with the defendant?” the lawyer pursued.

“We’re partners in the firm of Fact and Fancy, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. It’s a private detective agency.”

The silver-haired lawyer smiled at the prosecuting attorney. “Now, Mr. Fact, in your own words will you explain why you and the defendant are in Lake City?”

Ed Ossening was again on his feet. “I object, Your Honor. It is immaterial to this case why either the defendant or the witness are in Lake City.”

“On the contrary, it is highly material,” Farraday put in smoothly. “And even if it weren’t, the prosecution has no right to object to data not directed to the jury. If Mr. Ossening is afraid the jury will be unduly prejudiced, he should ask the court to retire it until this matter is finished. But I assure both Your Honor and the prosecution it will make not the slightest difference to the outcome of this trial what the jury thinks. If the prosecution intends to continue objecting every time I ask a question, I will request Your Honor to reconsider his own suggestion and receive the witness’ testimony in the privacy of his chamber. However, I sincerely feel that it is in the public interest and to the interest of justice that the prosecution and the spectators in the courtroom hear what the witness has to say.”

“This is a highly irregular procedure,” said the judge, “and I am not sure I shouldn’t take your witness’ testimony privately. However, in view of the peculiar manner in which this case has so far progressed, I am not inclined to stifle the first evidence of interest counsel for the defense has shown in the trial.” He glared at the prosecuting attorney. “If there are further interruptions from the prosecution, I will recess court and take this evidence privately. If you want to hear it, please keep that in mind.”

Ed Ossening opened his mouth, closed it again and sat down.

John Farraday said to the witness, “Please explain to the court why you and the defendant are in Lake City.”

“We were on a job,” the little man said. “Martin Robinson, the father of Eugene Robinson, who awhile back was sentenced to death in this same court for the murder of a man named Saunders, hired us to prove his son had been framed.”

“How did you decide to approach this case?”

“Well, from what old Mr. Robinson told us about the trial, we were convinced from the beginning that one of two things was true. The evidence against Eugene Robinson was so complete, either he actually was guilty, or the trial was crooked. We decided to work on the assumption that the trial was crooked.”

Ed Ossening jumped to his feet, but sat down again when the judge glared at him.

“Mr. Fact,” Judge Anderson interrupted in a cold voice, “the case you refer to was tried in this court. Unless you clarify that last statement immediately, you will find yourself held in contempt.”

“I didn’t mean the court was crooked,” Adrian Fact said calmly. “The governor of this state is a personal pal of Martin Robinson, and the old man had him check up on you. He was quite satisfied with your integrity.” Undisturbed by His Honor’s speechless glare, the little man went on, “I meant we decided all eleven witnesses and the two police officers involved perjured themselves.”

This time the prosecuting attorney jumped to his feet and remained there, silent but quivering.

“That’s a pretty serious charge,” Judge Anderson said after pounding down the sudden hum in the courtroom. “For your own sake, I hope you can substantiate it.”

“I can’t directly,” the little man admitted. “But I can prove it’s a likely situation in any trial prosecuted by District Attorney Ed Ossening. I can prove all the witnesses in this trial perjured themselves.”

Chapter Five “Good Hunting, Mr. Fancy!”