CHAPTER THIRTEEN. WE PLAN THE DEFENSE
Helen's loss of memory was the last straw. The shock of finding her unable to remember the most familiar things was bad enough from a purely physical standpoint, but when I realized how completely it swept away all my plans for Helen's defense, how it fastened the guilt on her poor shoulders, I felt that our case was hopeless indeed. I drove to the offices of Simpson and Todd and was lucky enough to find both of them in. Simpson, a slender man with steel-gray hair and eyes, at once ordered a closed session to thrash out the whole affair. He first made me repeat everything I knew about Jim's murder, from the beginning. Several times he interrupted me, to ask a question, but for the most part he sat with his back to me, gazing out of the window, the tips of his fingers to his lips. Half the time I thought he wasn't listening, until a quick question would show his interest. Todd, on the contrary, was the picture of attention. He took notes in shorthand most of the time I was talking. When I had finished, Simpson rose and came over to me.
"Let's examine this thing from the start. You have three people who had a motive for killing Felderson—Zalnitch, Woods and Mrs. Felderson. Let's take Zalnitch first, for I think suspicion falls the slightest on him. You say that Felderson helped to convict Zalnitch in the Yellow Pier case and that he made vague threats against those who had put him in prison, after he was released. Good! There's a motive and a threat. He was seen on the same road that Mr. Felderson traveled, a short time before the murder. All those facts point to Zalnitch's complicity. But—the bullet that killed Felderson was fired from behind and above, according to the coroner's statement. Knowing the average juryman, I should say that we would have to stretch things pretty far to make him believe that a shot fired from one rapidly moving automobile at another rapidly moving automobile would ricochet and kill a man. That's asking a little too much. Also, it is hard to believe that Schreiber, who was driving the car, would risk a smash-up to his own car and possible death for himself and party, in order to try to make Felderson go into the ditch. Then, too, if Zalnitch recognized Felderson's car, why didn't he fire point-blank at Felderson instead of waiting till he got past? No! The case against Zalnitch falls down. We can strike him off the list." I hated to give him up, but I had to admit Simpson's logic was faultless. "Now let us take up the case of Woods. Here is a man who threatened Felderson's life unless he gave his wife a divorce, which you say Felderson did not intend to do. There, again, is a motive. Woods knew that Felderson was in possession of certain papers that would ruin him. There is a stronger motive." He turned to me. "By the way, you have those papers, haven't you?" I hadn't thought of them until that very minute. "I don't know where they are right now, but I'm pretty sure I can find them." He nodded.
"Get hold of them by all means! They may be important to us." He lit a cigar and threw himself into a chair.
"Well, let's go on. Woods had all the motive necessary for killing Felderson. He made a definite engagement with Felderson on the night of the murder, to meet him at a certain time and place specified by Woods. That's important. Everything up to that point is as clear as crystal, yet you say you have positive testimony that Woods was at the country-club waiting for Felderson at about the time the murder took place, and Woods claims that he has an absolute alibi. If that is true, it lets him out." "But I'm not sure he was at the country-club at the time the murder took place," I explained. "I only know he was there just before and just afterward." "What do you know of his movements that night?" Simpson asked.
"I know he dined there at seven-thirty or thereabouts and that he ordered a drink at eight twenty-five." "And what time was the murder?" "Probably about a quarter past eight—the bodies were found at half past, they say," I answered. Simpson shook his head. "I'm afraid his alibi is good. It's cutting things too fine to think that he could have run six miles and back in less than half an hour and committed a murder in the bargain. It would have taken a speedy automobile. Do you know whether he had an automobile that night?" he queried.
"I think he did. I can find out in a minute," I added, going to the telephone. I called up the country-club and finally succeeded in getting Jackson on the wire. Jackson thought Mr. Woods did not have an automobile that night, because he had gone to town in Mr. Paisley's car. "He might have used somebody else's car," Todd suggested. Simpson shook his head again. "We're getting clear off the track, now." An idea came to me suddenly and I called Up Pickering at the Benefit Insurance Company.
"This is Thompson speaking, Pickering," I said. "Yes." "Do you remember if an automobile passed you on the night of the Felderson murder, going toward the country-club?" "No." "Do you mean you don't remember?" "No, I remember perfectly. There was only one automobile passed us and that was the black limousine." "You're sure?" I asked.
"I'm positive, old man. We only saw one car from the time we left Blandesville, until we reached the city." I put up the receiver and sank back in my chair.
"Well?" Todd flung at me.
"I'm out of luck!" I responded.
Simpson rose. "Let's go on. We have crossed off two of our suspects from the list, let's see—" "I'd rather not go on," I interrupted, looking out of the window to escape Todd's searching eyes. There was a moment's silence, then Simpson spoke. "We'll do our best but it will be a hard fight. If Mrs. Felderson could only recall what happened that night and before, we might have a chance, but every woman that has come up for murder during the last few years, has worked that lost memory gag." "But my sister really has lost her memory!" I exclaimed.
"I know, my dear boy," Simpson soothed. "That is what makes it so difficult. If she were only shamming now, we could—. But with your sister as helpless as a child, the prosecuting attorney will so confuse her, that our case will be lost as soon as she takes the stand." "Why put her on at all?" I asked.
"Because we have to, if we hope to win our case," he replied. "The one big chance to win your jury comes when your beautiful client testifies." For a few minutes he was silent, obviously thinking, and thinking hard.
"Of course, our defense will have to be temporary insanity," he declared at last. "Oh, not that!" I begged.
"It's our only chance," Simpson argued, "and I don't mind saying that it's a pretty poor chance at that. Three years ago it might have been all right, because a conviction only meant a few months at a fashionable sanitarium, and then freedom. But when that Truesdale woman went free, an awful howl went up all over the country and I'm afraid the next woman who is found, 'guilty but insane,' will be sent to a real asylum." A shudder of horror ran through me. For Helen to be sent to an asylum while her mind was in its weak state might well mean permanent insanity.
"You talk to your sister as often as you can and try to help her recover her lost memory. Of course you'll have the best specialists examine and prescribe for her. In the meantime, we'll investigate both the Woods and Zalnitch cases to see if they are hole-proof." "You might get those papers on Woods, if you will," Todd reminded me. I thanked them and left, greatly depressed but ready to fight to the last ditch to save Helen's life. The papers dealing with Woods had not been among Jim's effects when I had looked them over at the office and I was confident they had not been picked up on the night of the murder, for they would have been returned to me. Thinking they had probably been left in one of the pockets of the automobile, and overlooked when the machine was searched, I decided to run out to the Felderson home the first thing in the morning.
