Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

“What kind of a man was the chap who was killed?”

“Sort of a crank. He was always worrying about his health.”

“Did Kent have some particular motive for killing him?”

“No, but he had plenty of motive for killing the man in whose bed the victim was sleeping!”

The detective gave a low whistle. “Got the wrong man, eh?” he asked.

“I don’t know. You stick around and see what you can uncover.” Mason looked at his watch, then opened the door of Drake’s car and said, “You can drive me down to the boulevard. I’ll pick up a cab there.”

“Headed for your office?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were there,” Drake said, starting the car; “didn’t you have a chance to do anything before the police came down on the place?”

“Nothing. There’s another attorney there, a bird by the name of Duncan.”

Drake deftly avoided a car which cut in, stepped on the throttle to beat a traffic signal and said, “ Duncan cramped your style, eh?”

“I’ll say he did. I wanted to find out something more about the murder, but that old fossil started messing around. Moreover, he claims he saw my client prowling around about midnight.”

Drake said, “Watch your step, Perry.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Just the look in your eye. You look to me as though you were pulling a fast one.”

Mason grinned. “I’m pulling half a dozen fast ones,” he replied. “I’m like a juggler on the stage who’s got six billiard balls in the air all at once, only I’m not juggling billiard balls, I’m juggling dynamite bombs. I’ve got to keep moving.”

“I’ll find out all I can,” Drake promised. “By the way, you wanted me to put a man on duty in Santa Barbara to relieve some chap who’d been watching a house up there. I got one of my men on the job, and everything’s all fixed up. Just thought I’d let you know, in case you were worrying about it.”

Mason nodded and said, “Good work, Paul. You’d better send another man up to work with him. I want her shadowed now, and I want as smooth a job as possible. And put a tail on anyone who leaves Kent’s place after the officers get finished with their investigation… This is a good place, Paul. There’s a taxicab. I’ll take it. You can telephone from the cigar store there on the corner.”

Mason flagged the taxi as Drake swung in close to the curb. The driver was alert and efficient, and Mason reached his office by ten minutes after nine. Della Street, as crisply fresh as a chilled lettuce leaf, perched informally on the corner of Mason’s desk and rattled a barrage of information into his ears while he was washing his hands, combing his hair, and adjusting his necktie in front of the mirror. “ Jackson telephoned just a few minutes ago. One of the judges had a jury trial scheduled at half past nine, and a default matter which he had to take up. So he called court at eightthirty and Jackson explained the circumstances to him and got his signature on the final decree of divorce. I called the Winslow Hotel at Yuma to talk with Mr. Kent and Mr. Kent hadn’t arrived. I called the courthouse. They hadn’t heard anything of Kent. No marriage license had been issued for him this morning, and…”

“Wait a minute,” Mason said, looking at his watch, “that information doesn’t have any particular significance. The courthouse hasn’t been open but a few minutes. It’s just after nine and…”

Her calmly efficient voice interrupted him incisively. “It’s after ten o’clock there. Yuma is on Mountain Time.”

Mason closed the door of the closet which contained the washbowl and medicine cabinet, made her a little bow, and said, “You win, Miss Efficiency. What else?”

“I called up the airport, found the number of the plane Kent chartered to take him to Yuma, and got Drake’s office to rush a Yuma detective down to the airport there to see if that plane had landed. I’m expecting a call any moment.”

“I don’t know why I don’t stay out of the office and let you run the business,” Mason told her. “You’ve handled things more quickly and efficiently than if I’d been here.”

She smiled her appreciation, but continued to snap information at him. “They’re trying their best to get you to handle that Anstruthers will case. I told them I couldn’t give them an appointment but I’d see if you were interested.”

“Who wants me to handle it?”

“The attorney who’s representing the contestants wants to have you put on the case. He says he has it all prepared and all you’ll have to do is examine the witnesses and present the case to the jury…”

Mason interrupted her. “Can’t take it,” he said. “It comes up for trial this week, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not taking on any additional responsibilities until I get this case straightened out. Tell them I’m sorry. Anything else?”

“Myrna Duchene was so grateful it was positively pathetic.”

“Myrna Duchene?” he asked, his forehead puckered into a frown. “Who’s she?”

“The girl who was swindled by the man who’s at the Palace Hotel under the alias of George Pritchard,” she explained.

Mason laughed. “I’d forgotten about her. She thinks my advice will work?”

“She’s positive of it. She says she’ll pay you just as soon as…”

“Didn’t you tell her there was no charge for the advice?”

Della Street nodded. “I told her, but she just couldn’t seem to believe it. She…” The telephone bell rang. Della Street lifted the receiver to her ear, said, “Hello,” listened for a few moments and said, “Stay there. Report at once by telephone, if you hear anything of it.” She slipped the receiver back on the hook and said, “Kent’s plane—it hasn’t landed at the Yuma airport.”

Mason drummed with his fingertips on the edge of his desk. “Now that’s a complication,” he said.

“Shall we report them as missing and have a search plane sent out?”

He slowly shook his head, said, “Ring up the airport, Della, and charter a plane. Have it ready to leave within half an hour. Don’t tell them the destination. Tell them I just want to cruise around a bit.”

“Charter it in your name?” she asked.

He nodded, and said, “You might as well. I’ll get more service in my own name, and if the officers are prowling around the airport they’ve found out about Kent’s plane by this time anyway.”

“You think they’ll figure on a plane?”

“Sure they will—sooner or later. It’s just a question of time. The butler spilled the information that they were going to get married and that I’d driven them somewhere in an automobile. It won’t take much of a detective to put two and two together on that.”

The telephone rang again. Della listened at the receiver, handed the telephone over to Perry Mason and said, “It’s Jackson again at Santa Barbara. You take the call on this line, and I’ll go out in the other office to telephone the airport.”

Mason said, “Hello,” and heard Jackson’s voice on the line. “Hello, Jackson, everything okay? Della tells me you have the decree.”

“That’s right, the decree’s signed and duly entered. What do I do now?”

“Who’s watching the woman up there?”

“One of Drake’s men. He relieved Harris.”

“Della said you had something to tell me you didn’t want to spill over the telephone.”

“I didn’t dare to. I’m talking through the courthouse exchange. I haven’t been able to leave here yet. I’m afraid there may be a leak through the switchboard. Later on I can go to the main telephone office and call you from there.

“What’s the nature of the information, generally?” Mason asked. “Use language that won’t mean anything to an outsider.”