Original subtitles

Bye.

I'm sorry I didn't make breakfast for you. I have an appointment at the office

with a client.

That was last night.

I'm late. When you find these property things, I'd like to miss them. Here.

And here.

Nothing was resolved last night about the divorce.

Not last night? For the months you've been bothering me? Not ever.

It's a close subject, Sybil.

Your lover is just out of luck. This is one of those old -fashioned husbands

where somebody refuses to cooperate.

There's nothing left between us. I can't go on this way.

I love you.

No, no, Eric. A lot of things, but not love.

Not ever love.

That is a lie.

Please. Now sit and don't.

Are you sure?

Perhaps you and your lover might hope it was more.

But it wasn't.

Oh, good morning, Mr. Pollard.

I mean, my April report material?

Yes, but Mr. Talbot asked you to please drop into his office first. He has a Mr.

Mason with him. It'll only take a moment.

Eric.

Come in, Eric. Come in.

Mr. Mason, this is my junior partner, Eric Pollard.

Mr. Pollard, how do you do, sir?

Mr. Mason is here about the Smith estate.

I'm sure I speak for you, Eric.

Why, tell him how shocked we all were in learning about young Mr. Smith's

accidental death in Europe.

You represent his uncle's estate, don't you, Mr. Mason?

I believe he inherited from his uncle a conditional inheritance with provision

for reversion.

Yes, that is.

Bonds, real property, everything reverts to the original estate.

I've already filed him probate. I anticipated you would.

We've already completed an audit with outside accountants, Mr. Mason.

The records are complete. The asset's ready for transfer the moment the court

gives the go -ahead.

Well, in that kind of efficiency, I'll consider letting you handle some of my

investments.

Any time, Mr. Mason.

Any time.

And I'm sure that you'll find that Eric more than justifies his reputation as

being one of the top men in the field.

You're very kind, Harlow.

Some coffee, Eric?

No, thank you. I have a man waiting in my office.

Unless there's something else.

Just my thanks.

Pleasure.

What is it?

You all right?

I go on checking balance sheets at two in the morning. I'm going to have to

pocket my vanity.

I'm getting older to get myself some eyeglasses.

I'm all right, thank you.

It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Mason.

I don't want to see anybody just... Something wrong, Mr. Pollard.

No, I just need to...

Officer, the gospel truth.

I didn't smash my cab into this light pole.

Of course not.

Of course not. I did.

Just like I told you. You've got to believe me. This guy, this crazy guy,

into my cab. Two blocks down there. He jumps into my cab and he's yelling. He's

yelling to the top of his lungs, I'm going to rob a bank.

Sure, sure. I'll bet. That's what he said. I'm going to rob a bank.

You offered to drive him to the bank.

Officer, you just ain't listening. Like I told you, he gets in and he sticks a

gun in the back of my head. Makes me get out of the cab. Then he gets in and

drives. All by himself. Drives right in. Right in and smashes my cab into that

light bulb.

That's right, officer.

That's what happened.

He's telling the truth.

Huh? What's your name?

That's him.

That's him.

That's the man.

Well, don't just stand there. Arrest him. He's the guy that stuck me up and

smashed up my calf.

Now, look, fella. That's the man, all right, officer. I recognize him, too.

it is. Sure. That's him.

Now, just a moment. Now, what's going on here? What is this, officer?

I'm sorry.

Now, just turn around.

This is ridiculous.

If it is, I'll be the first to apologize. Now, turn around, lean

put your hands against that wall.

You're under arrest.

Call is adjourned.

Oh, that's Bert, the most tenacious young man I've ever encountered in the

courtroom. He wears me out.

Not a bad lawyer, either.

Bad.

One of these days, Bert will be wearing a judge's black robes in the cars.

Oh, I'll put a file there on your desk.

State versus Eric Pollard.

Why this one?

The supervising deputy probation officer, Roy Galen, is outside. He

see you about the case.

Hold on, show him in.

Judge Aldo will see you now, Mr. Galen.

Oh, hello, Roy, Your Honor. Glad to see you.

Sit down. Thank you.

I didn't know the supervising probation officer personally handled cases.

Has Eric followed your baby?

No, he's nobody's yet.

I don't even know him. I'm sure he doesn't know me.

His wife's a friend of mine from years back.

She asked me for help. Oh.

Well, without prejudging the matter, I would say that this report is pretty cut

and dry.

When Pounder is tried, if he's convicted, to understand if he's

and then only will the probation department become involved,

Don't jump me yet. I'm not stepping out of line legally or ethically. But you do

want to help this man's wife all you can, don't you?

I don't get any ideas.

I proposed a civil a long time ago, but got turned down.

Now, all I'm suggesting is that you request a probation report now.

Under CCP 131 .3. Report files?

The gun they found on Pollard.

The gun he allegedly used to stick up the cabbie with. It's an old Japanese

souvenir. The firing mechanism removed 20 or more years ago.

Completely inoperable.

Unless you want to use the butt to crack walnuts.

He was going to use that to hold up a bank.

It was the neatest trick of the week. You see, he was arrested at 9 .25 in the

morning. Well, the banks don't open for that.

Oh, I think I see what you mean. With a probation report before trial, there's a

possibility there might not be a trial.

All right, Roy, 131 .3 it is.

But I must have a psychiatric evaluation along with the probation report.

Fine.

Here's another incident.

with the terms of the contract and asked you to be prepared for your signature.

Then you signed another contract with a different company for the same services

less than an hour after you agreed to the first contract.

Take a look at the records, Mr. Pollard.

Dr. Jenkins, if you insist, that's what the documents show.

Well, I certainly don't question your integrity or your good intentions.

But you question the validity of the proofs I've shown you.

Proofs that I'm mentally incompetent? Yes, of course I question that.

Do you think they've been fabricated or manufactured to embarrass you?

No, I'm not suffering from a persecution complex, Ivan.

I can't imagine anybody who'd want to deliberately create evidence of my

misfeasance.

But during the past two weeks, there have been half a dozen separate but

circumstances, Ivan.

Or shall we say highly unlikely business procedures on your part, that why your

office has only just learned of them since yesterday.

Now, if they're not true and not fabricated, how do you characterize

Misinterpreted facts.

I never did, I never could have done such things.

In the episode with the taxi?

Oh, come on, Dr. Jack, as you know as well as I do, that cab driver was lying.

And the witnesses?

Mistaken, I should guess.

What about the fact that your wife identified the gun as one of your

Quite a few Japanese pistols were brought home in the 1940s, Dr. J .S.

Your wife couldn't be mistaken in her identification.

It was a wonderful world.

Really wonderful.

Then you have a happy personal relationship, a good marriage.

More happiness than a man has a right to ask for.

I've really been blessed to have her as my wife.

Then there's no rift between the two of you.

Rift?

Is that what she says?

Well, Harkin said there is a rip.

I love her, I... I told her that I love her.

Has she never begged you for a divorce?

Who is he?

What's his name?

You're a doctor. Maybe she's told you. Maybe you'll know.

Who's the man she's in love with?

Therefore, this persistent delusion coupled with the sporadic irrationality

leads to no conclusion other than that Eric Pollard is unable, unassisted, to

manage or to take care of his property, and by reason thereof is likely to be

deceived or imposed upon by artful or designing persons.

The language complies with the codes, a legal definition of incompetency.

You mean that psychiatrists found Eric insane?

No, merely incompetent at present.

To handle his own or anyone else's business affairs.

Well, that's exactly what we do. Handle other people's business affairs.

Manage their investments.

Dean, you're the company lawyer.

Where does that leave us?

Does it force a dissolution of the partnership? I wouldn't want to do

to hurt Eric, but on the other hand... Well, the partnership agreement states

that in the case of a temporary incapacity, his wife has power of

More or less a guardian ad litem. Me, Eric's guardian?

Strictly pro forma, Mrs. Pollard.

A matter of record until we see how long this situation with Eric will last.

I suppose, Mr. Galen, if the charges against Eric can be dropped now, he can

checked into a good rest home for treatment.

No, Mr. Talbot, that's not what happens.

But if the psychiatrist's report merely states that he's incompetent... In

business affairs, yes.

But it also states that at the time of the commission of the act involved, Eric

Pollard could not only distinguish between right and wrong, but was fully

of the consequences of his act.

I don't understand, Roy.

What does that mean?

It means your husband is going to have to stand trial.

Now, before we go on the record, let me make the position of the court perfectly

clear.

I'm holding these proceedings in my chamber in the hope that the matter may

resolved through probation.

Now, to me, probation is a very simple and effective method of applying

corrective assistance to those in conflict with the law without harm to

Officer Berger, do you have any objection to our handing the matter in

Judge Alder, the District Attorney's Office has no desire to see a first

offender, especially a man like Mr. Pollard here, destroyed by the adverse

publicity of a criminal trial.

We're perfectly willing to accept proceedings in chambers.

But as to probation, Your Honor, may I remind you that this charge is on

robbery?

Section 1203 grants judicial discretion an unusual piece of Mr. Berger, such as

the determination of the distinction between a deadly weapon and a souvenir.

Very well, Your Honor. The District Attorney's office will be happy to drop

particular hot potato right in your lap, with every confidence in the court's

ability to judge the facts.

I'm not sure I should thank you for that, Mr. Berger.

I'll reserve decision.

Counsel for the defendant.

Dean Franklin for the defense.

Present, Your Honor.

Mr. Franklin, in the charges and the information, how does your client plead?

On all counts guilty, Your Honor.

And you waive a remit of judgment, Counsel?

So waive, Your Honor. There's no legal reason why a sentence should not now be

imposed. Will the defendant please rise?

The court finds you guilty as charged and censuses you for five years of hard

labor in the state penitentiary.

It's all right, Eric.

Just procedure.

The county probation officer.

For the record, copies of the probation report authorized pursuant to Section

131 .3 of the Code of Civil Procedure have been furnished the court and all

parties to the action.

It is respectfully recommended, Your Honor, that the defendant, Mr. Eric

Pollard, be granted probation.

Mr. Pollard, the sentence is herewith suspended.

You are placed on probation for a period of three years upon the following

conditions. That you make full restitution for all damages.

That you will cooperate.

with probation officer on a plan for a weekly psychiatric treatment and that

report to as directed and obey all laws, orders, rules, and regulations of the

probation department and the court.

Do you understand the terms of the probation, Mr. Pollard?

I do, sir. Do you accept them?

I do.

It is so ordered. Court is adjourned.

Just one moment, Your Honor. Yes?

Believe me, sir, I cast no aspersions on this court.

But I want my wife.

You, Sybil.

I want you to know you don't fool me for a moment.

This is no more than a clever effort to segment my wishes.

To divorce me and marry your lover.

Eric! I know who it is now.

That man!

The probation officer!

No, no, no, darling. I don't want to wait.

What else can we do?

I can't leave him now.

Yes, I feel just as badly as you do.

But it only means postponing the trip, not giving it up.

And just for a little while, sweetheart.

Just for a little, little while.

I know it won't be long.

I love you, too.

Of course I love you, but...

Your

maid let me in.

I have some papers Mr. Franklin wanted you to sign.

I've picked up my way to the office now.

In just a few minutes.

These are the forms to be signed for the bonding company.

You can go on over to the office. I'll run these right over to the bonding

company. They're waiting for them.

Bonding?

In temporarily acting for your husband, under the power of attorney, I believe

Mr. Talbot told you that you had to be bonded?

Would you sign right here, Mrs. Pollack?

It's Wynne.

Amy, that telephone call... I've been your husband's private secretary for ten

years.

Please don't ask me to understand.

But you don't understand.

There's nothing I can do about what destroyed Eric Pollack, but I don't have

like it. You self -righteous thot.

I couldn't care less what you think or what you like.

Will you sign, please?

I seem to have misplaced my car keys.

Sit him at rest.

Unless that's a delusion, too.

Picky things.

Here they are. They have the day.

save my sanity, and save cancer.

Ladies, I'm on my way like a good little boy to report to my alter ego, the

probation officer.

Well, the president, a man named Matt Ruddick.

But if I run into his boss, Mr. Roy Galen, I'll be sure to give him your

Sybil.

Signed, sealed, and through the good offices of Mr. Franklin, delivered.

Mr. Mason, I think that should take care of the estate of the young man who died

in Europe. Thank you.

I feel so funny every time I sign for Eric.

At least we know that Eric did a wonderful job on that last one.

And I understand, Mr. Mason, that your accountants were very pleased, too.

Everything correct to the last decimal point.

Well, in that case, let's just go down to the club and celebrate over some

lunch, huh?

Pollard!

That's the one I want.

Sybil Pollard. Mr. Mann.

Leo, what is it?

You, lady.

You're the only female around.

Is this your John Henry signed at the bottom here?

Why, yes, I'm Sybil Pollard. Then what in blazes did you do with my money?

Now, wait a minute, Leo.

You may be a valued client, but... A quarter of a million in blue chips

liquidated on her authority, yours, lady, my $250 ,000.

Where is it?

Amy, will you come in here, please?

Mr. Mann, I don't know where you learned your manners, but... Hold it, Dean.

Please, hold it.

Leo, you've been out of town.

Now, you know very well the company's probably just been rearranging the

holdings in your portfolio.

Mrs. Pollard here would merely have signed the order, that's all. There's no

reason to get excited.

Amy, will you check Mr. Mann's portfolio, please?

That's just what I've been doing, Mr. Talbot. And there is something I don't

understand. You see, Mr.

Pollard always handled Mr. Mann's account personally until... Well,

Until she, her there, signed the authorization to liquidate some of my

Now, what in the name of... All right, all right, Leo.

But your quarter of a million is perfectly safe.

In a company that handles ten times that amount each month, there's probably a

very simple explanation for all this.

Well, I'm sorry if I've offended the lady, but this business is crazy.

Mr. Mann, this company is trustee for your investments, not any one

Now, you agreed to that setup when you became their client here.

You must also be aware of the fact that, like anyone else who signs orders, Mrs.

Pollard is personally bonded.

So if you'll be good enough to give us a minute until we finished our business

with Mr. Mason. Oh, that's quite all right.

I'm leaving now.

Good day.

Well, won't somebody start to explain?

All right, so you're an intelligent, well -educated man.

A man capable of separating in his own mind the real from the unreal.

facts, doctor, from those terribly naughty mistakes of the imagination.

What do you call them, Dr. Jenkins?

Illusions? Well, if you're referring to your stubborn belief in your wife's so

-called romantic entanglement. So -called?

You keep saying it's obsessional. More a delusion than an illusion.

A symptom, perhaps, of paranoia.

Well, an unreasoning belief in the impossible. It's called a delusion,

All right, yes, it's called a delusion, but in your case... This is a letter

from South America.

A letter confirming a one -year lease on a furnished apartment.

Leased in the names of Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Porter.

An S, Doctor, and a P.

My wife has very expensive initial luggage.

Well, an S and a P can stand for Stephen Porter.

They're nothing but initials. Nothing to indicate that those initials have to be

your wife's. Oh, of course not.

Especially when the confirmation is addressed not to Mrs. Stephen Porter,

Mrs. Sybil Pollard, my wife. Here, take a look.

Are there probably some explanation?

Oh, yeah, of course.

For this as well.

Two tickets.

One -way tickets to South America.

Reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Porter.

All of them hidden in my wife's bedroom, along with a confirmation of the

reservation.

And I said, Doctor, what were you saying about that illusion?

But it could have been the maid.

But Eric must have taken them. It had to be Eric. It couldn't be anybody else.

Why, please.

I'd thank you to come here because you've got to get them back from us.

Sybil, Sybil, please, please.

Roy, you must do it.

What was that like?

Somebody took a picture of us.

And so, in answer to your request... Perry Mason's office.

Just a minute, Perry.

I've got an idea.

Please.

Probation?

Roy, how are you? In trouble, I'm afraid, Perry.

Can I help?

Oh, that's why I called.

Any chance I can see you in the morning? Early?

Eight o 'clock early enough?

Fine. Thank you, Perry.

A couple of reports I'd like to go over with you, Mr. Galen. Good night.

County probation officer, Roy Galen.

Oh, please don't. You're hurting me. You're hurting me.

Sybil, is that you?

What is it?

No, no, no.

No, no, no.

Sybil, are you all right?

Mr. Rudick, step aside, please. I'm going to that man's office.

I'm your probation officer, not Mr. Gaylord. He's the supervisor.

Anything you have to say, you say to me.

This is personal and private.

I'm afraid nothing a probationer does is private.

You see, Mr. Pollard, he isn't here.

Then I'll wait for him.

Here. All night, Captain.

That's more than irrational.

It's stupid and impossible.

Don't forget the bit about delusions. I suffer from that, too.

Here.

If you look at that, tell me how stupid and irrational I am.

That's right, my wife in Roy Galen's comforting arms.

I'll wait, Mr. Riddick.

Because when Roy Galen comes in, I'm going to kill him.

County probation, Nat Ruddick.

What?

That was Roy Galen.

You're coming back here?

No, he's not.

He's just arrested.

Arrested? Arrested for what?

The murder of your wife.

$250 ,000 was stolen from the account of Mr. Leo Mann.

A quarter of a million dollars worth of stock liquidated.

Liquidated by whom, Mr. Talbot?

Well, Sybil Pollard's signature was on the order, of course, but that's only a

temporary... Mr. Talbot, you've heard evidence in this courtroom, have you

about the reservations that Mrs. Pollard made for herself and a man in South

America? A furnished apartment leased for one year?

Yes, I have.

And, of course, the reservation she made personally. One -way tickets to South

America for herself and a man.

Yes. Mr. Talbot, assuming Sybil Pollard wanted a large sum of money with which

to live abroad, couldn't she simply have obtained as much as she wanted from her

own estate?

I object to the question, Your Honor. It assumes fact, not in evidence.

Moreover, it calls for opinion and conclusion from the witness.

May I remind counsel, Your Honor?

that Mr. Talbot is an acknowledged expert in the field of trusts and

And furthermore, Mr. Talbot personally set up the estate from which Mrs.

derives her income.

I will gladly stipulate that the witness is indeed an expert, but not as

regarding the personal and private desires or motivations of Sybil Pollard.

Objection sustained.

Rephrase your question, Mr. Berger.

Mr. Talbot, was Sybil Pollard a wealthy woman?

Well, actually, no.

She had a life estate.

The use of income from some real estate set up by her late father before she was

married. It provided her with a separate income of approximately $500 a month.

I see.

Could she have sold this property and used the cash for her personal wants?

No. Under the terms of the will, it was possible for her to pledge her security

for the bond she needed in order to continue to receive Eric's income as his

guardian. But she could not sell it.

nor otherwise dispose of it. Well, what happened to this property when Sybil

Pollard died? Was murdered?

Did her husband inherit this life estate?

No. At her death, the property was automatically assigned under the terms

will to a group of specified charities.

That is, what's left of the estate after the bonding company satisfies its

security pledge to pay off that quarter of a million dollars.

So what Sybil Pollard could not do directly, that is, take money from her

estate,

She could do indirectly by embezzling the funds and letting a bonding company

recover from her estate.

Objection, Your Honor.

I withdraw the question.

You're with us. No question.

I call Dean Franklin to the stand, please.

Mr. Franklin, to your personal knowledge, was the decedent Sybil

married? No.

On what do you base that answer?

Well, she came to me as an attorney to request that I initiate divorce

proceedings against her husband, Eric Pollard. I see. And did you? No. I

explained to her that she had no legal grounds for divorce.

Eric Pollard, if he was nothing else, was a good husband in every sense of the

word. Really?

Well, since she was married to this paragon of matrimonial virtue, why did

Pollard want a divorce?

She...

She was in love with another man.

She said on the telephone, I can't leave him just now.

Then she said, it only means postponing our trip, not giving it up.

Sweetheart. And then what did she say, Miss Wynn?

She said, I love you too.

Then she turned and saw me standing in the doorway and hung up.

Now, Miss Wynn, as I understand it, you were there to get Mrs.

Pollard's signature on some papers, is that correct?

For the bonding company, yes.

Well, then you were probably the person who had the decedent sign the

authorization liquidating that quarter of a million dollars from the account of

Mr. Leo Mann.

Oh, no, sir, I never saw that paper.

Well, didn't you handle Mr. Mann's account?

Well, I didn't handle it. I did do all the secretarial work on it for Mr.

Pollard, but he never gave me that authorization to prepare, and neither

anyone else in the office.

Well, that authorization was certainly prepared by someone.

And the money was transferred.

Yes. Now, handwriting analysis has proven that the signature on that

authorization was unquestionably Mrs. Pollard's.

Since you claim you didn't prepare the authorization, perhaps you processed it.

No, I didn't process it.

But our office records show that it was processed after Mrs. Pollard had the

right to sign her husband's name.

Let me ask you this, Miss Wynn.

When Leo Mann practically accused Mrs. Pollard of stealing that money in your

presence, did Mrs.

Pollard deny it?

Not in my presence, she didn't.

All I know was she was pretty shaken up and very upset.

Thank you, Miss Williams.

I couldn't hear anything on the other end of the phone conversation.

But whatever it was, it upset Mr. Galen.

What did Mr.

Galen say to the other party on the phone?

Well, he just kept calling out, Sybil, Sybil, what is it? Are you all right?

And what did he do then?

He ran out of the office.

When Mr. Galen ran out of the office, did somebody else by any chance run into

it looking for him? Yes, Mr. Eric Pollard. He wanted to see Mr. Galen.

To show him a photograph.

Was it this photograph, Mr. Rudy, People's Exhibit 7?

A photograph of the decedent Sybil Pollard in the arms of the defendant,

Galen? Yes.

What time was it, Mr. Rudick, when the defendant, Roy Galen, ran out of his

office in response to a phone call from someone he called Sybil?

It was about 8 .30.

9 .15?

No, that's a little too precise.

I'd say that Sybil Pollard was murdered somewhere between the hours of 9 and 9

.30 p .m. I see. And what was the cause of death, Doctor?

Manual strangulation.

From the absence of finger marks on the throat, the murderer used his forearm,

or the palm of his hand, to exert pressure against the front of the larynx

close the lumen by shortening its central posterior diameter.

The autopsy disclosed only the signs of asphyxiation with no discernible marks

on the skin and only barely perceptible injuries to the deeper structures of the

neck.

A motorcycle officer spotted the defendant, Roy Galen, driving his car in

of 60 miles an hour in a 30 -mile zone and gave chase.

Did he apprehend him, Lieutenant?

No, sir. He lost him on a blind turn in a fork in the road.

When the officer realized the defendant must have taken the other turn, he

called in.

Headquarters ordered a squad car to patrol the immediate area in circles,

they eventually located the car of the defendant on the street.

Exactly where was the car located when they found it? Outside the home of the

decedent. Sybil Pollard. And was Roy Galen, the defendant, in the car at that

time? No, sir, he was not.

Just as the squad car officer started up the walk to the house, the door opened

and the defendant came running out practically into the officer's arms.

Exactly what time was that, Lieutenant?

9 .30.

And did the officer then go into the house with the defendant?

Yes, sir, he did.

He wanted to find out what he was running away from.

That's when he found the body of Sybil Pollard in the library.

Dead.

You say your name is Lawrence West and that you're a licensed private

That's right. Larry West. West Confidential Investigations. I show you

picture, Mr. West.

People's Exhibit 7. I ask if you were hired to take that picture.

Yes, I was. By whom?

Mr. Eric Pollard.

He said his wife was carrying on with some man. He wanted me to shadow her and

get proof of who the man was.

That's it?

That's the proof.

Well, this seems to be proof, only that at this particular moment, the defendant

was holding the decedent in his arms.

Oh, right.

She was carrying on with him to the point where she was in his arms.

Yeah. However, this photograph was apparently taken at close range. If the

people in it had been talking at the time you took it, you might have heard

they said.

Well, she was practically hysterical.

asking him to get back some stuff for her that her husband had found hidden in

her room.

Go on.

Well, that's when I took the picture.

It was a flash picture.

He chased me.

I see. So you didn't hear any more.

Oh, sure. I heard more. You did? How?

I doubled back, that's all.

Just made a circle and came right back behind him. Out of sight.

So then you actually heard more conversation between the defendant and

woman who was to be found murdered in a matter of hours.

That's right.

He, the defendant, was real mad now.

She was crying and carrying on. He couldn't stand it.

When she said, I'm afraid, afraid he'll kill me, the defendant grabbed her by

the shoulders and he sort of shook her.

And did he say anything to her at that moment?

He sure did.

He held her hard and he said, right now, if anybody's going to kill you, Sybil,

it'll be me.

Rick Pollard?

Yes. My name's Paul Drake. I'm a private detective.

Well, it's interesting, but I don't really have one type of man. I know.

But he only found a man.

That's all I've paid him to find.

What about a quarter of a million dollars?

You say you know what my wife did with that money?

Well, I don't exactly want to broadcast what I know, so we're alone in the

house.

Well, Mr. Drake, I understand there's a reward for the recovery of stolen

property.

Mr. Drake, I'm a rather unfortunate financial orphan at the moment.

I'm, uh, incompetent, remember?

But you're still a partner in the firm from which the money was stolen.

So is Harlan Talbot. Why don't you sell your information to him?

Because just maybe he might not be in the market.

Obviously, you know me.

I'd like to make sure who my business associates are you have identification.

License. Certainly.

Well, Mr. Peller, ready to talk?

Yes, Mr. Drake, I'm ready to talk. Good.

To the police.

Hold on.

An implied threat to expose Harlan Talbot as an embezzler if I don't

payoff, that's extortion.

Don't you believe me? Believe?

Every word was a lie, a stupid, clumsy lie even a child could see through.

That's a laugh from a guy the court says is off his rocker who smashes a cabin

and beats you wasn't even there.

I'll admit I was there, but I did it.

I'll swear to it under oath.

Just as I'll swear under oath to what's happened here and now.

Just a minute.

If you're so anxious to swear under oath, you're in court tomorrow morning.

present, Mr. Pollard, from Perry Mason.

That's a peanut.

Good night.

Doctor, you examined the decedent at the scene of the crime?

Yes, I answered a police call.

Did you also examine a defendant?

The defendant?

Well, he stated to the police that he'd been struck on the head, momentarily

knocked down.

Yes, he did.

Yes, I did examine his head.

May I ask what you found?

Oh, a slight bruise where he claimed he had been struck.

Claimed? Well, what I meant was he could just as easily have struck his head on

a piece of furniture during the struggle.

What struggle?

Well, when he was strangling the...

You're not wasting the court's time, Doctor, reviewing the facts of a case in

which you have not only determined exactly what happened, but have

the guilt of the defendant as well.

I'm sorry, Mr. Mason. You're right.

That was merely an assumption on my part.

Was your estimate of the time of Sybil Pollard's death also an assumption?

No, of course not. My estimate was based on an examination to determine the

lapse of time between death and the time I examined the body. You found

pronounced stiffness in the body musculature?

Almost spasm.

Unquestionably recent muscular exertion and fighting off the strangler. Or could

it have been normal rigor mortis? That is possible, isn't it, Doctor? Well,

I suppose it is.

Just as it's possible that the fire in the fireplace affected the change in

temperature? Well, actually, when I arrived, there was practically no fire

all. But there had been a fire affecting the body temperature.

Could death have occurred as much as half an hour earlier, say at 8 .30?

Well, put that way, yes,

it could have.

At 8 .15?

Well... Or 8 or 7 .30?

Early as 7, perhaps.

Oh, come now, Mr. Mason, I'm sure you know that's highly unlikely.

And I'm sure you know that your estimate was based less on what you observed as

a doctor than it was on the fact that you knew the time of the defendant's

presence, took it for granted he killed Sybil Pollard, and assumed, therefore,

that she was killed at that time.

No further questions.

No questions, Doctor.

Witnesses excused.

The defense calls Dean Franklin.

Mr. Franklin, do you know Section 118 of the Penal Code?

My practice doesn't include criminal law, Mr. Mason. Section 118 defines when

person is guilty of perjury.

I suggest you may find yourself guilty of defamation, Counselor, despite the

privileged nature of this proceeding.

Seven months ago, you spent a weekend at Santa Barbara.

Two weeks later, Las Vegas.

A month after that, an entire week in San Francisco.

Is what I've stated true so far?

Yes. Yes, I believe it is.

And in each instance, you registered as Mr. and Mrs. Dean Franklin. Is that

correct?

He'd like to regret your memory.

Do you examine these photostats?

Are these your signatures on the registration cards?

Yes.

Mr. Franklin, are you married?

No. Speak up, please.

No. Have you ever been married?

No. I remind you of section 118 of the penal code, and I warn you that I have

proof of the answer to my question.

Who was the woman you registered each and every time as your wife?

Sybil Pollard.

Sybil and Dean.

I'm shocked.

I'm absolutely shocked.

You were in no way involved with Sybil Pollard? Me?

Oh, good heavens, no.

You weren't with her in her house the night she was killed?

What? When Roy Galen ran into the library, Sybil Pollard was already dead.

And then someone struck Roy in the head.

Were you that someone, Mr. Talbot?

You're out of your mind.

Where were you that evening?

I was at my club.

That's right, I was at my club. I was to have had an appointment with Dean

Franklin. And was to have had an appointment.

What happened?

Dean never showed up.

He left a message for me that he'd had a call.

An emergency call.

A call.

Yes, I think I do remember Sybil making a call early that evening.

But I had no more way of knowing she was calling Dean Franklin than I had of

knowing that Dean was the man she was really in love with.

Your wife made another telephone call later that evening to Roy Galen.

Did you also overhear that call?

No, I was downtown.

Yes, of course, in the probationer's office.

At 8 .30, you were walking in one corridor while Roy Galen was running out

another just seconds after your wife phoned him.

Exactly.

So why do you have me on the stand instead of Dean Franklin?

If Dean was in the house when Roy Galen got there, then you obviously had

nothing to do with your last murder.

Not unless delusions are contagious.

Mr. Pollard, the district attorney and the judge have agreed to let me explore

one of those delusions.

Someone was attacking your wife when she made her desperate call to Gail.

Now, you could not have been that person, could you, Mr. Pollard?

Well, since I was downtown, practically at the other end of that telephone call.

No one could be at both ends of a telephone. Is that what you mean?

Right now, for example.

You couldn't be sitting here by me and be with Paul Drake at the other end of

this phone.

I don't know what you're driving at, but I certainly had nothing to do with my

wife's death.

Mr.

Pollard, did you kill your wife?

Earlier.

One hour earlier with a strong fire in the fireplace while you strangled your

wife to death.

You recorded her voice on a portable tape recorder.

That's a lie. A lie.

You rushed down to the Hall of Records.

In the lobby, a public telephone.

You dialed Roy's number. Then played a section of that tape recording to him

over the telephone.

No! No! No!

Quickly, you hid the portable tape recorder and ran into the office to set

your alibi.

That was one hour after you'd murdered your wife.

confronted her in the library with a picture of the two of you taken in the

park.

Tape recorder was hidden and turned on.

Perhaps he was only looking for evidence to keep her quiet.

But she sort of lost her head and told him she'd call the lawyer and was going

to expose him.

Eric didn't know that she had called Dean Franklin.

That Dean was the man she was in love with.

And he didn't know that Dean was coming over.

See, it was Dean who hit you on the head.

He arrived just before you and walked in to find Civil Pollard dead.

After Sybil knew of Eric's plan, it meant he was either killing her or going

prison. What plan?

A young man named Smith unexpectedly died in Europe.

Eric Pollard was caught having illegally mortgaged a quarter of a million

dollars of Smith's assets to obtain money for speculative investments.

Investments that went sour.

The Smith estate had to be closed.

So he turned to his wife.

Wait a minute.

That business of being incompetent, it was a fake.

Business mistakes, the taxi routine, all planned fake.

And he prepared the necessary documents in advance.

And he had his wife sign them.

Swiped the money from that over -aid picture of teenager and made up the

shortage.

And I walked right into the middle of that.

Judge Older was right. Where trouble is concerned, the only good involvement is

no involvement.

I have a question, Paul.

How did you get Eric to let you record his voice?

Microphone and transmitter, self -contained with batteries.

The recording set's out in my car. Nice, huh?

Nice.

You electronic eavesdropper.

Not safe to even think around you anymore.