The Case of the Deadly Scalpel

Chapter 14

1

Lieutenant Carl Reese came forward and was sworn in. Testifying at trials was something every detective did often. Carl hated being of the opposite opinion of Chief Ironside. It felt like he was being disloyal to a man who once saved his life, and another time his job. Yet, he didn't have a choice. It was his opinion that Dr Ben Stern was guilty of the murder he was charged with. It wasn't often the chief was wrong, but he was wrong this time. He simply couldn't be objective because Stern was a close friend.

Prosecuting Attorney Gary Sullivan approached the witness stand. "State your name and occupation for the court please."

"My name is Lieutenant Carl Reese. I am a detective in the homicide department of the San Francisco Police Department."

"Please give the court a brief summary of your experience as an investigator."

Perry Mason stood up. "The defense recognizes Lieutenant Reese as an excellent investigator. We do not feel the court needs a long drawn out summary of his career. He has testified dozens of times in this courtroom. We concede his abilities as a detective."

Sullivan turned around with a look of disapproval. "If you don't mind, Mr Mason, the prosecution would like to present the case our way."

And so it starts, Judge Thatcher thought. Everytime Perry Mason appeared in a courtroom, prosecuting attorneys were eager to be the first to win a case against him. Gary Sullivan already lost cases against Mason, and it was obvious he felt he had the case that would give him the distinction of being the first to beat Mason. Thatcher knew better than to assume that. He would adjudicate the trial fairly. Still, he was aware Mason had the ability to blow a case out of the water at any time. Thatcher was well acquainted with Mason's record. He seemed to have the uncanny ability to judge a person's innocence or guilt. He was well known for defending the innocent. Not one of his clients to date had been guilty of the murder they were charged with.

"Mr Sullivan, Mr Mason has conceded the record of Lieutenant Reese. I have a tendency to agree with him. I think the lieutenant has testified enough in this courtroom to accept his record. Please move on with your examination."

Once again, Sullivan showed his displeasure with the judge's ruling, which was exactly what Mason was trying to accomplish. "Very well," he snapped. "Lieutenant Reese, were you the detective called upon to investigate the murder of Corbin Schulte?"

"I was."

"And what did you find when you arrived at the scene?"

"The victim had been stabbed in the chest with a scalpel."

"Was he still alive?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then it is your considered opinion that the man died of a stab wound to the heart?"

Mason looked at his client and winked. Standing up, he said, "I must object. The Lieutenant is not a medical examiner or doctor. He couldn't possibly know for certain that the puncture wound entered the heart."

"Oh for cripes sake," Sullivan cried. "You must be kidding. A scalpel stabbed into the middle of the chest has nowhere to go but into the heart."

"Please watch your composure in my courtroom, Mr Sullivan. I insist both counsels follow courtroom procedure."

Sullivan calmed down. "I apologize to the court."

"The objection is overruled." Thatcher didn't give any reason for overruling and Mason didn't need one. The objection was only issued to rattle Sullivan.

Reese glanced over at Mason before answering. "Since there wasn't any other evidence of how the death occurred, it was a logical conclusion that the scalpel in his chest was the cause of death. So yes, it is my considered opinion that Schulte died of a stab wound to the heart."

Sullivan walked over to the evidence table and picked up the scalpel. Returning to his witness, he handed the gold scalpel to Reese. "Is this the scalpel that was removed from the chest of the victim, Lieutenant?"

Reese looked it over and nodded. "Yes, it has my mark on the handle end."

Sullivan took the scalpel from him and addressed the judge. "I would like this entered as prosecution exhibit A."

"Any objections, Mr Mason?" Thatcher asked.

"No, Your Honor."

Sullivan continued his examination. "Were any fingerprints found on the scalpel?" he asked.

"Yes, there were."

In a dramatic voice, Sullivan asked, "And who did you determine those prints belong to?

Again, Carl looked over at the defense table. "They belonged to the defendant."

"Were you able to determine whose scalpel it was?"

"Yes, it belonged to the defendant as well."

Sullivan looked back at the defense table in triumph. "It belonged to the defendant," he repeated as if surprised. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?"

"This wasn't just any scalpel. It was made of solid gold. It was given to Dr Stern by Chief Robert T Ironside as a gift after he performed surgery on him."

"That is a mighty expensive gift to give to a surgeon who failed at his surgery, isn't it?"

"Objection!" Mason called out as he stood up. This time it was an objection that was deserved.

"Say no more, Mr Mason. Your objection is sustained. Looking at Sullivan, he said, "Watch it, Mr Prosecutor."

Sullivan bowed at the judge. "My apologies, Your Honor."

"Lieutenant, was it the scalpel with which the defendant performed the surgery?"

"No, it wasn't."

"Objection! How could the witness know that unless he was in the operating room?" Mason complained.

"Your Honor, if the esteemed defense attorney would be patient, that question will be answered."

"Objection overruled."

Mason sat back down.

"Lieutenant, you just stated that the gold scalpel was not the one which Dr Stern used when performing the surgery. How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I spoke with the defendant. He told me the scalpel, the gold one that is, was a gift from Chief Robert Ironside. Because it was solid gold, he kept it in a lock display box on the wall."

"And was that display box locked when the surgery was performed?"

"According to the defendant, it was."

"Did the defendant say who had keys to the display box?"

"He told me he had the only key."

"And where was that key kept?"

"In his desk drawer."

"Then couldn't it be possible someone could have gotten the key and removed the scalpel?"

"No, it could not," Reese answered.

"And why not?"

"Because the office door was also kept locked when Dr Stern or his secretary were out of the office."

"I see." The district attorney walked back to the prosecutor's table. Standing behind the table he looked up at Reese. "The office has to be cleaned, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but there is no way anyone could access the desk, therefore no one would be able to access the display case either."

"But, the individual cleaning the office would have access to the office after hours, would he not?"

Reese shook his head. "No. Because of the drugs that are kept in the doctor's office, no one was ever allowed in the office unless Dr Stern or his secretary was there. The office was cleaned during the day. The secretary came in before office hours began and remained in the office while it was being cleaned."

"The secretary's office and the doctor's office are separated by a door, are they not?"

"Yes, but she is required to go into the office with the janitor."

"So there is no possible way anyone could enter the office, therefore, there is no way anyone would be able to access the key to the display box."

"Objection! The district attorney is testifying for the witness."

Sullivan turned around in disgust, which was apparent in his response. "I certainly am not, Mason. I simply repeated the witness's testimony."

"The witness stated the secretary entered the office without the defendant. Therefore, it is possible that at least one person other than the defendant had access to the office and the key in the desk. Therefore, there is a possible way someone could enter the office without the doctor's knowledge."

"That's ridiculous, Mason!" Sullivan snarled.

"That's enough, gentlemen. I have stated I will not tolerate personalities. Mr. Prosecutor, in summarizing what the witness said, you added the phrase, there was no possible way anyone could enter the office or have access to the key. Mr Mason is correct in that the secretary would have access to both the office and the key. I suggest you reword your summary so that the defense cannot object, and make it clear you are summarizing. Otherwise, you are testifying for the witness as Mr Mason stated."

Gary Sullivan's face turned red with anger. Mason knew he wasn't testifying for the witness, and so did the judge. "Yes, Your Honor. I withdraw the statement."

"One other thing. You will address the defense attorney as Mr Mason. Opposing counsels will treat each other with respect. Is that clear, Mr Sullivan."

Barely able to control his anger, he responded. "Yes, Your Honor." He turned to Perry Mason, giving him a look that could kill. "Your witness"

Mason stood up and walked over to Carl Reese. "Lieutenant, in your time as a detective, have you ever run across criminals who were capable of picking locks?"

"Objection! This was not covered in my direct examination," Sullivan complained, shooting out of his chair.

Mason turned around. Was the man really making that objection? He returned his attention to Judge Thatcher. "Your Honor, the district attorney has made quite a case that no one could possibly have entered the defendant's office. The defense has the right to explore other ways the office could have been breached."

"Overruled."

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, many times, in fact," Reese answered.

"Was the door checked for that possibility?" Mason demanded.

"Yes, it was."

"And what did you discover?"

"It was impossible to tell."

"And why is that?"

"The lock on that door has not been changed for over twenty years. Most offices of that type have been changed to keyless entry, but the defendant's office is scheduled for the change next month. In twenty years, careless insertion of keys scratched up the lock to the point where it may or may not have been picked."

"So it is possible the office door could have been picked when the defendant or his secretary were not there?"

"It is doubtful, Mr Mason. That is a pretty busy hall where Dr Stern's office is located. There are several doctor's offices in that hall. It would be next to impossible for someone to stand there and pick the lock without someone seeing them."

"But the hall would be rather deserted after regular business hours, would it not?"

"Probably," Reese said.

"So it could be possible for someone to pick that lock and enter it after hours, would it not?"

"Yes, but the surgery on the victim was not done at night, Mr Mason. The scalpel was locked in the display case that morning according to my interview with the secretary."

"But it is possible it could have been picked during the time Dr Stern was performing the surgery?"

"Possible, but not likely. Like I said, that hall is pretty busy during office hours."

Mason accomplished what he set out to do. It was possible and the lock did show signs of the lock could have been picked. He would let it go at that. "You stated the defendant's fingerprints were on the murder weapon. Would it be unusual to find his prints on a display scalpel which he owned?"

"No, it wouldn't. However, if someone else murdered Corbin Schulte, then that person's prints would have been found?"

"Are you aware there are boxes of rubber gloves found in every patient room, treatment room, and doctor's offices in the hospital?"

Reese knew where he was going with this and there wasn't anything he could do about it. "Yes, I am aware of it."

"The murderer could easily have removed a pair of those gloves, put them on before he or she removed the scalpel, therefore preventing putting their prints on the scalpel. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, that is possible."

"Thank you, that will be all." Mason returned to the defense table.

Sullivan was not through yet. He had to drive a point home. "Mr Mason has been pushing the theory that someone could have committed the murder. You said his theory is possible, but is it likely?"

"No. The case was locked and the door to his office was locked. That hall is just too busy. If someone was picking the lock, they would have been noticed," Reese said.

Turning to Mason, Sullivan smiled. "That will be all." He too returned to his table.

"You may step down," Judge Thatcher instructed Reese. "Call your next witness, Mr Sullivan.

2

Staring out the window of his rented car, Paul Drake watched Sherry Schulte leave the home she and Corbin lived in for twenty years until his death. Paul was well aware that normally police suspected a spouse first and foremost until that individual was cleared. This time the police never even looked at her as a suspect because of the gold scalpel plunging out of Corbin Schulte's chest.

He worried Perry was defending a guilty client this time. Yet, he couldn't remember the last time his friend's instincts were wrong. In fact, so far they had not been. Perry had never defended a guilty client. He simply had to trust the lawyer's instincts.

Sherry Schulte's Jeep Cherokee was a couple cars ahead of him. He normally would hang back a bit more, but he was pretty certain she would never notice him. She pulled into the Wells Fargo Bank. Drake knew from his investigations that this was where her's and Corbin Schulte's accounts were kept. He watched her go into the bank and then got out of his car to follow her in. Drake went through the revolving doors and headed for the island in front of the teller window directly behind where Schulte was conducting business. The bank branch was not very big, and Drake was close enough to hear her business.

"I would like to withdraw all of the money in this account." She handed the teller an identification card showing that she was the beneficiary on the account.

The teller looked at the amount and her eyes widened. "I will be just a minute, Mrs Schulte. I have to get this approved by the manager."

"Why? Doesn't your records show that I am the beneficiary on the account."

"They do. However . . ."

Schulte interrupted her. She reached into her purse and handed the teller a paper. "That is my husband's death certificate. I want a check for the full amount in the account, and I want it now."

"I will be just a minute." The teller left the station before Schulte could say another word. She returned with the bank manager.

"Mrs Schulte, my name is Samuel Hobbs. I am the manager and CEO of this bank. I am sorry for the delay, but it is the policy of this bank that any withdrawal over fifty-thousand-dollars must be approved by management."

"Well, you are management, aren't you? So, approve it and give me my money."

Hobbs looked over the death certificate. Why did the name sound so familiar? "Are you certain you want to draw out $500,000? We would be happy to service your account."

Paul couldn't believe it. Where would Corbin Shulte get $500,000? That money gave Sherry Schulte a very good motive for wanting her husband dead. He decided he better step in. Walking over to the counter, he pulled out his private detective identification. This time, he made no attempt to flash it. He wanted to make sure the bank manager knew who he was. "Mr Hobbs, my name is Paul Drake. I am a private detective. I can tell from the look on your face, the name Corbin Schulte is familiar. That is because he was murdered in Saint Mary's Hospital."

The bank manager looked back at Sherry Schulte. "I have watched only a little of the news for some time now. Is that true?"

Schulte didn't know what the private investigator was doing in the bank. Then it occurred to her who he worked for — Perry Mason, that was who. Drake was following her. But why? "Yes, it is true. This man is trying to help Perry Mason get the man exonerated of my husband's murder."

Hobbs was at a quandary. His primary concern was to protect the bank. Sherry Schulte was the beneficiary on the account. She had a right to the funds. Yet, if there was something that was fishy, then the obligation fell on him to be sure nothing improper was going on. "Mr Drake, is there a reason Mrs Schulte should not be able to withdraw the funds?"

"Her husband was murdered, Mr Hobbs. That is a rather large sum of money she is withdrawing. I would say it is a pretty good motive for murder, wouldn't you?"

Making the right decision was of the utmost importance. If he let that money go out of the bank, and she didn't have the right to it, then he would be in trouble with the higher ups. He made a snap decision. "Mrs Schulte, I am afraid I am going to have to consult with our attorneys on this. Please understand, my primary obligation is to this bank. If the attorneys clear it, then I will happily write you a check for the full amount you are asking. Until then, I am afraid I can't do so."

"This is outrageous! I am the beneficiary on this account. I have every right to that money. My husband would have wanted me to have it. You have no right to stop me from withdrawing it. I will sue the hell out of you!" She turned around and stormed out of the bank.

Drake turned to go before Hobbs stopped him. "I hope you know what you are doing, Mr Drake. If there isn't a problem, she could sue the bank."

"I don't think you will have a problem. You have a right to protect the bank. You are not going to be in any legal trouble for making her wait twenty-four hours." Paul Drake left the bank. He would inform Perry of this new development. He would surely want to subpoena Sherry Schulte. There wasn't any doubt that she had a motive to kill her husband — $500,000 worth of motive. Where did all that money come from? Did Corbin Schulte steal it or come by it legally? That was a question Perry would certainly want answered. Regardless of how he got it, Drake just gave Perry another person with a motive to kill Corbin Schulte. The question was — how could she do it with Stern's gold scalpel? It would be difficult to prove it.

3

"We have a problem," Billy Cino said.

Benny Stoner ruled the mob in San Francisco. He took over when Robert Ironside brought down Benito Corneilo, who was responsible for murdering a California state senator, and almost succeeded in murdering Sergeant Ed Brown while he was in Las Vegas to pick up the assassin Corneilo hired to kill the senator.

Stoner was every bit as ruthless as Corneilo ever was. The difference was Cornelio resided in prison. He was stupid enough to go after Ironside. Stoner wanted nothing to do with Ironside. His every decision was planned in such a way as to not draw the damn detective's attention. The mob boss knew in order to stay in power, his men had to fear him. He didn't dare let on that he was scared of Robert Ironside, but the truth of the matter — he was. He ran cities before. Everyone of them, of course, had police. Yet, he never ran up against a cop as smart as Ironside. If one underestimated him, that person ended up behind bars. He had no intention of adding to Ironsides' already impressive record.

"What problem are you talking about?" Stoner asked.

"Joey, that's the problem, boss," Billy said.

"Just why is Joey a problem? He's always done exactly what he is told to do, and he has done it well, not allowing anything to point back at us."

"Yeah, I know that, but this time he is definitely a problem."

"Billy, get to the point! Why is he a problem?" Stoner demanded.

"I hear that out of town lawyer, you know the one . . ."

"Perry Mason," Stoner interrupted.

"That's the one."

Shaking his head, Stoner raised his voice. "I swear to God, if you don't tell me what the hell Joey has done, I am going to shoot you dead right here and now." He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Cino for emphasis.

Billy Cino put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, don't get upset, boss. Mason has called Joey as a witness for the defense."

Stoner was quiet for a minute. Putting his gun down, he stroked his chin. "That is a problem. We can't have Mason probing into our affairs."

"Why don't you let me have Mason taken out?"

"Are you stupid or what? Mason is Ironside's brother. How many times have I told you we have to stay under Ironside's radar? What do you think he would do if we wasted his brother?" Stoner roared.

"I'm sorry, boss. I didn't think about that."

"You better start thinking, unless you don't like living!" Stoner stood up and walked around his desk. "I don't want to tangle with Ironside."

"Boss, you're not scared of him, are you?" Cino asked, regretting his question when he saw the look on Stoner's face.

Stoner grabbed Cino by the throat? "Scared of Ironside? I'm not scared of anybody. You don't stay in the position I am in if you haven't got enough sense to avoid police involvement. Ironside is no ordinary cop. He's dangerous."

"He's just a cripple in a wheelchair. We should've taken him out long ago."

Easing his grip on Cino's throat, he shook his head. "That, Billy, is exactly why I am the boss and you are the lackey. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison?"

"Of course not."

"Then stay away from Ironside. He's not just a cripple." He smiled. "Actually, I kinda admire the man."

Cino's eyes widened. "You gotta be kidding! He's a damn cop. I hate all cops, including him."

"That's your problem right there. You can't beat the opposition unless you respect and understand them. Ironside is brilliant. He's one of the most revered cops in this country, and that is because he has the ability to outwit his opponents." He chuckled. "I would hate to play poker with the man."

"Boss, aren't you giving him a bit too much credit?" Cino asked.

"No! The only thing that bothers me is that I might not be giving him enough credit. And that brother of his. Same kind of brilliant mind. You don't mess with guys like that. You stay under their radar. So, you are to stay clear of both of them, understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. But, what do we do about Joey? He could spill the beans about the girls. Boss, he could tell them all about the meeting with the guys."

"I am aware of that. That is why you are going to have him wasted. I don't want him talking to Mason or Ironside."

"He's already talked to that private detective that works for Mason. We have no idea what he told him."

"That's the point. Waste him. I don't want him testifying in court about my operation. Is that clear?" Stoner said, once again pointing the gun at Billy Cino.

"I got it. Consider it done." Cino left his office. He wondered if Benny Stoner was actually worried about the operation. After all, the police couldn't prove anything. Cino couldn't help but wonder if Stoner had something to do with Schulte's death. He was furious with him when he didn't provide the girls for the other mob bosses. Was he angry enough to waste Schulte? He supposed he would never know.

4

Ironside pulled his fully equipped van into the parking lot at the Hall of Justice. If the courts wouldn't give him the legal right to check Gladys Farnsworth, there was one man there who could authorize it without needing a court order. He could have gone to him in the first place. Ironside had always been a by-the-book cop, well, most of the time. There were times when he had Mark do things he couldn't do as a cop, such as the time Mark went around the back of the dentist's house and broke a window to gain entry. Ironside's aunt had brought the man to his attention, suspecting he was responsible for the death of one of the Tuesday Afternoon Bridge Club members. She was right of course, the man was guilty.

Mostly, Ironside played it straight. That was why he went to the judge. He wanted the right to examine the entirety of Gladys Farnsworth's records. He was afraid the mayor might limit what he could look at without a search warrant.

The big detective wheeled his chair into the building. Along the way he greeted police officers, secretaries, as well as the cleaning staff. He long ago came to the realization that he was probably the most recognizable police officer in the department. After taking the elevator up to the floor where the commissioner and the mayor's offices were located, he decided he should see Dennis first. Going to Ted Barr's office would be equal to going over Dennis's head, and Ironside never did that. Despite bulldozing Dennis into having his way, the man was Ironside's friend and boss. He was the one responsible for bringing him into the department.

Arriving at Randall's office, he opened the door and pulled his chair into the outer office. Betsy looked up and smiled. "Hello, Chief. I wasn't aware you had an appointment with the commissioner."

"I don't."

She had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. Robert Ironside was the only one who could walk into the commissioner's office and see him without an appointment. Betsy wondered if the chief even knew how to make an appointment! "Just a minute, Chief, I'll see if the commissioner can see you."

"He'll see me," Ironside said.

Smiling, Betsy pressed the intercom and picked up the receiver so Chief Ironside wouldn't hear the commissioner's side of the conversation.

"Yes, Betsy," Randall answered.

"Commissioner, Chief Ironside . . ."

"Don't tell me. Let me guess. Bob Ironside wants to see me, and he didn't bother to make an appointment."

Betsy had to refrain from all-out laughter. "Yes, sir."

"Send him in."

Betsy hung up the phone. "You may go in, Chief."

Ironside wheeled his chair into the commissioner's office.

"Bob, it might be nice if you made an appointment once in a while."

"You don't make appointments when you come to my office," Ironside retorted.

Randall shook his head. He could point out he was his boss and didn't need to make an appointment, but what good would it do? The next time Bob wanted to see him, he wouldn't make an appointment anyway. Sighing, he asked, "What did you want to see me about?"

"Gladys Farnsworth."

"What about her?"

Ironside hesitated and then said, "I want access to all of her documents."

Frowning, Randall sat forward in his chair. "Why? What are you doing that you would need to see them?

"Her daughter is missing. I am investigating her disappearance."

"I thought you were investigating for your brother on the Stern murder trial."

"I am. The two are related," Ironside answered.

Randall rubbed his temples. Why was it whenever Bob Ironside came to his office, a headache would start. "You can't mean what I think you mean. You couldn't possibly think Gladys is involved in Schulte's death."

Ironside stood his ground as he knew he was going to get an argument from Dennis. "She has to be checked out, Dennis. She certainly had a motive to kill him. He dragged her daughter into prostitution, and now she is missing. Don't you think that is motive enough?"

"Bob, be reasonable. Gladys is not a killer, and you know it."

"And just what would you say if I didn't investigate someone with a motive in a murder case? Dennis, I don't believe she is involved, but she certainly had a motive. She needs to be eliminated as a suspect. Now, do I get to examine the records or not?"

"Did you get a search warrant?"

"No," Ironside said.

"Didn't you go to one of the judges and try to get the warrant?

"Yes, but he wouldn't give me one."

"There you go. If a judge doesn't feel it warranted, then why do expect me to feel it is?"

"Because you are responsible for what the city council members do, and you should be concerned that I am not checking her out."

"I don't have the authority. I am the police commissioner. I do not have jurisdiction over city council members. They have jurisdiction over me. I can't give you the authority."

"You allowed me to go through the records during the Alexandra Hughes trial."

Randall lowered his brows. "You had a search warrant."

"Then you won't get upset if I go to Ted Barr."

"As far as I am concerned, you are wasting your time. I think you should drop it."

Ironside wheeled closer to the commissioner's desk. "How would you feel if I didn't bother to check her out, and later she was found to be the one who actually murdered Schulte?"

"Oh for cripes sake. Gladys had no access to Ben Stern's office. Therefore, she could not possibly have stabbed Corbin Schulte with that scalpel. You're grasping at straws."

"She might not have had access, but she could have been in cahoots with someone in the hospital who did," Ironside said.

"I take it back, you are not grasping at straws. You are operating in fantasy land. Go see Ted if that is what you want to do. Somehow, I doubt he is going to give you access to her files. I would think your time would be better spent if you investigated the people who were in the hospital at the time of the murder."

"All 600 of them?" Ironside said.

"Did you just pick that number off the top of your head?"

Ironside grinned.

"Get out of my office, Bob."

Ironside turned his chair around and headed for the door. He did his duty. He informed his boss what he intended to do. Dennis didn't dare tell him he couldn't go to the mayor. Ironside read people extremely well, and when he brought up Gladys possibly being found to be the killer, and he being unable to investigate her, Ironside knew he had him. Dennis would not stand in his way. He always said the detective bulldozed him, well, sometimes it just worked. Ironside was used to getting his own way, and if bulldozing worked, well, so be it.

Next stop: Mayor Ted Barr's office.