“I understand that now,” Della Street said. “I didn’t at the time. That’s why I kept quiet.”
A man pushed his way up the aisle of the courtroom, hurried to Scudder’s side, whispered in his ear.
Scudder listened, arose with a triumphant smile, and said to Judge Romley, “And if the Court please, as still further proof of the corpus delicti, the Prosecution will be prepared tomorrow at ten o’clock to produce the testimony of physicians who have conducted a postmortem on the body of the deceased. If the Court please, I am just advised that the body of Carl Moar has been discovered and is being taken to the morgue.”
The courtroom became a hubbub of excited noise.
“Under the circumstances,” Judge Romley said, “this case will be continued until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”
As the spectators milled into an excited crowd, Della Street left the witness stand. Mason pushed his way past Scudder. Newspaper photographers vaulted the mahogany rail separating the portion of the courtroom set aside for attorneys from that reserved for spectators.
“Chief,” Della Street said, “I’m so d-d-d-darned sorry.”
Mason held her close to him. “Poor kid,” he said.
A newspaper reporter yelled, “Hold that pose.” Flashlights etched the scene into brilliance.