It didn’t matter how much the D.A. played the killing down, the facts were undeniable. Fanquist had shot Rabener in front of a hundred witnesses. Even if the D.A. didn’t want to be responsible for burning her nice little tail, he couldn’t very well help himself.
The counsel for the defence rose to his feet. “Your honour,” he said with a bland look on his face, “before going further with this trial, I would like to ask the District Attorney a question.”
The Judge told him to go ahead.
The defence turned to where the D.A. was sitting. “Can you assure me,” he asked, “that the bullet found in Rabener’s skull could have been fired from my client’s automatic?”
You could have hung your hat on the silence that followed.
The D.A. went all colours of the rainbow. He got to his feet with a feeble, “Your honour—I object!”
The Judge, who had been giving himself an eyeful of Fanquist, looked at him coldly. “I think that is perfectly in order. In fact, I will go further and say it is a very proper question.”
The defence smiled. “I take it that you are unable to do so,” he said blandly. “In which case, I must ask for an adjournment while this point is verified.”
The Judge looked at him intently. “Why have you raised this point?” he asked.
“Your honour,” the defence returned, “my client did not kill Rabener. It will be found that the bullet in Rabener’s skull could not possibly have been fired from a small automatic. The bullet, I should imagine, came from a Smith-Wesson revolver. Perhaps at this point I should wait until the bullet has been checked.”