KAREN: You don’t understand Bjorn Faulkner.
FLINT: Maybe I don’t. But let’s see if I understand you correctly. You were raped by a man the first day you saw him. You lived with him for ten years in a brazenly illicit relationship. You defrauded thousands of investors the world over. You cultivated a friendship with a notorious gangster. You helped in a twenty-five million dollar forgery. You told us all this proudly, flaunting your defiance of all decency. And you don’t expect us to believe you capable of murder?
KAREN: [Very calmly] You’re wrong, Mr. Flint. I am capable of murder — for Bjorn Faulkner’s sake.
FLINT: That is all, Miss Andre.
[KAREN back to her seat at the defense table, calmly, indifferently]
STEVENS: Lawrence Regan!
CLERK: Lawrence Regan!
[REGAN takes the stand]
You solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?
REGAN: I do.
STEVENS: What is your name?
REGAN: Lawrence Regan.
STEVENS: [A little hesitantly] What is your occupation?
REGAN: [Calmly, with a faint trace of irony] Unemployed.
STEVENS: How long have you known Karen Andre?
REGAN: Five months.
STEVENS: Where did you meet her?
REGAN: In Faulkner’s office. I went there to . . . to do some business with him. I gave up the business, because I met his secretary.
STEVENS: How did you happen to become friendly with Miss Andre?
REGAN: Well, that first meeting wasn’t exactly friendly. She wouldn’t let me in to see Faulkner. She said I had enough money to buy orchids by the pound — and I had no business with her boss. I said I’d think it over — and went. I thought it over. Only, I didn’t think of the business. I thought of her. The next day I sent her a pound of orchids. Ever see how many that makes? That’s how it started.
STEVENS: Did you know of Miss Andre’s relations with Mr. Faulkner?
REGAN: I knew it before I ever saw her. What of it? I knew it was hopeless. But I couldn’t help it.
STEVENS: You never expected Miss Andre to share your feeling?
REGAN: No.
STEVENS: You never made any attempt to force it upon her?
REGAN: Do you have to know all that?
STEVENS: I’m afraid we do.
REGAN: I kissed her — once. By force. It was the night of Faulkner’s wedding. She was alone. She was so unhappy. And I was so crazy about her. She told me it was no use. I never wanted her to know. But she knew. We never mentioned it since.
STEVENS: When did Miss Andre first tell you of Faulkner’s planned escape?
REGAN: About two weeks before we pulled it.
STEVENS: Was “Lefty” O’Toole one of your men?
REGAN: No.
STEVENS: Were you connected with his murderers in any way?
REGAN: No.
STEVENS: [With a little hesitation] You actually had no definite knowledge of his planned murder?
REGAN: [With the same joint irony] No. I just had a way of guessing.
STEVENS: What happened on the night of January sixteenth?
REGAN: It all worked as Miss Andre has told you. But she knows only half the story. I know the rest.
STEVENS: Tell us what happened after you left the penthouse.
REGAN: I left ten minutes after Faulkner. He had taken my car. I had one of my men leave another car for me at the door. I stepped on it — full speed.
STEVENS: Where did you go?
REGAN: To Meadow Lane. Ten miles out, in Kings County. I had left my plane there earlier in the evening. Faulkner was to get there first and wait for me.
STEVENS: What time did you get there?
REGAN: About midnight. There was a bright moon. I turned off the road and I could see tire tracks in the mud — where Faulkner’s car had passed. I drove out into the lane. Then, I thought I’d lost my mind: the plane was gone.
STEVENS: What did you do?
REGAN: I searched around that lane for two hours. Faulkner’s car was there — where we had agreed to hide it. It was empty, lights turned off, the key in the switch. I saw tracks on the ground — where the plane had taken off. But Faulkner couldn’t fly it himself.
STEVENS: Did you search for any clues to this mystery?
REGAN: I searched like a bloodhound.
STEVENS: Did you find anything?
REGAN: I did. One thing. A car.
STEVENS: What kind of a car?
REGAN: It was hidden deep in the bushes on the other side of the lane. It was a big black sedan.
STEVENS: What did you do?
REGAN: I wanted to know whose car it was, so I smashed a window, crawled to the back seat and settled down to wait.
STEVENS: How long did you have to wait?
REGAN: The rest of that night.
STEVENS: And then?
REGAN: Then, the owner came back. I saw him coming. His face looked queer. He had no hat. His clothes were wrinkled and grease-spotted.
STEVENS: What did you do?
REGAN: I pretended to be asleep in the back seat. I watched him. He approached; opened the door. Then, he saw me. He gave a start and a yell as if he’d been struck in the heart. His nerves must have been jittery.
STEVENS: Then, what did you do?
REGAN: I awakened with a start, stretched, rubbed my eyes, and said: “Oh, it’s you? Fancy, such a meeting!” I don’t think he liked it. He asked: “Who are you? What are you doing here?” I said: “My name’s Guts Regan — you may have heard it. I was in a little trouble and had to hide for a while. And finding this car here was quite a convenience.” He said: “That’s too bad, but I’ll have to ask you to get out. I’m in a hurry.”
STEVENS: Did you get out?
REGAN: No. I stretched and asked: “What’s the hurry?” He said: “None of your business.” I smiled and explained: “It’s not for me. You see, it happens that a certain columnist is a friend of mine. He’ll appreciate the story about a gentleman of your prominence found wandering in the wilderness at milkman time. But I’m sure he would like to have the whole story.”
STEVENS: What did the man say?
REGAN: He said nothing. He took out a check book and looked at me. I shrugged and looked at him. Then, he said: “Would five thousand dollars be a suitable token of appreciation to keep your mouth shut?” I said: “It’ll do. Lawrence Regan’s the name.” He wrote out the check. Here it is.
[REGAN produces a check and hands it to STEVENS. Reaction in the courtroom]
STEVENS: [His voice is tensely ominous] I offer this check in evidence.
[He passes the check to the CLERK. CLERK glances at it and gives a start]
FLINT: [Jumping up] What’s all this nonsense? Who was the man?
STEVENS: [Solemnly] Who was the man, Mr. Regan?
REGAN: Let the clerk read that check to you.
STEVENS: [To CLERK] Kindly read the check.
CLERK: [Reading] January seventeenth . . . Pay to the order of Lawrence Regan the sum of five thousand dollars.” Signed: “John Graham Whitfield.”
[Uproar in the courtroom. WHITFIELD jumps to his feet]
WHITFIELD: It’s an outrage!
FLINT: I demand to see that check!
JUDGE HEATH: [Striking his gavel] Silence! If there are any more demonstrations of this kind, I shall order the courtroom cleared!
STEVENS: We offer this check in evidence!
FLINT: Objection!
JUDGE HEATH: Objection overruled. Admitted in evidence.
STEVENS: What did you do after you received this check, Mr. Regan?
REGAN: I put it in my pocket and thanked him. Then — I drew my gun and stuck it in his ribs, and asked: “Now, you lousy bastard, what did you do with Faulkner?” He opened his mouth like a fish choking and couldn’t make a sound.
WHITFIELD: Your Honor! Is this man to be allowed to make such statements in public in my presence?
JUDGE HEATH: The witness is allowed to testify. If it is proved to be perjury, he will suffer the consequences. Proceed, Mr. Stevens.
STEVENS: What did he answer, Mr. Regan?
REGAN: At first, he muttered: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I jammed the gun harder and I said: “Cut it out! I’ve no time to waste. I’m in on it and so are you. Where did you take him?” He said: “If you kill me, you’ll never find out.”
STEVENS: Did you get any information out of him?
REGAN: Not a word. I didn’t want to kill him — yet. He said: “If you expose me — you’ll expose the fake suicide and Faulkner will be found.” I asked: “Is he alive?” He said: “Go and ask him.” I talked and threatened. It was no use. I let him go. I thought I could always get him.