ASK MARTHA — THE PERJURER

Inspector Samuels lifted his cup, blew on it to cool the foaming coffee, and hunched his shoulders slightly, a gesture of confusion and determination. “Something isn’t right about that manslaughter case that was tried last week in municipal court. You were there, Crusher, so you must know what I mean. The Jones case.”

Crusher Davis, all six foot six and two-hundred-sixty-five pounds of him, had trouble fitting in the snug seat at Kellogg’s Kaffee Klatch. Not for the first time, he realized that the place’s name was dreadful, but as always, the cappuccino was first rate. He nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Inspector. And I’m glad that we are on the same track with this one. Frankly, I didn’t like that acquittal much either. The defendant took the stand, and then there was some conflicting testimony. It’s just possible that somebody lied to get her off. So maybe now it is up to us to figure out just who lied under oath.”