Mason nodded. “With Aileen Fell’s testimony out of the way, a jury will figure it was as apt to have been suicide as murder.”
“What makes you think you can get Aileen Fell’s testimony out of the way?”
“Because of the statement she made to her cabin-mate. It doesn’t coincide with what she’s saying now. Remember this, she’s rather a morbid personality. She was on deck, standing by herself, thrilling to the storm. I noticed her earlier in the evening. She was seated by herself over at one of the tables, wearing a blue dinner gown, and attacking her food with grim efficiency.”
“She’ll be a hard woman to cross-examine,” Della Street said.
“Why?” Mason asked.
“She won’t have too much regard for the facts. She’ll consider the cross-examination as a personal duel between herself and the attorney for the Defense. She’ll get more and more positive as you seem to doubt her word. She’s just that type.”
Mason grinned and said, “Don’t worry about her, Della. She’s going to fold up on cross-examination.”
“You seem to be certain, Chief.”
“I am,” he said, grinning — “that is, if Paul Drake gets that picture of her in her dinner dress.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”