Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“About eleven o’clock.”

“And locked the drawer?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the key?”

“I have it.”

“You’re sure it’s the only key?”

“Why, of course.”

“How long have you been locking that drawer?”

“Since the other day when I found the knife.”

“How do you know you have the only key?”

“Because the key was kept in the drawer. I took it out and used it to lock the drawer with. There was only one key.”

“And the drawer wasn’t ever locked during the daytime?”

“No.”

“But you’re sure it was kept locked all last night?”

“Yes, of course. You told me to lock it.”

“No one saw you?”

“No one.”

“And you didn’t have occasion to unlock it later on?”

“No. Of course not. What makes you ask that?”

“I thought perhaps the butler might have wanted something in there.”

“Why, no. It was late. He’d gone to bed.”

“Okay,” Mason told her. “Now wait until Holcomb leaves the telephone, then draw back from me a little and call to him. Tell him you’d prefer to have him present at any interview you give me, so you won’t get into any trouble. Make a nice buildup. Think you could do that so it will be convincing?”

“Oh, I’d love to. I like to act a part like that.”

“Go ahead,” he told her.

She waited a few minutes until Sergeant Holcomb returned from the telephone to glower at them in angry futility. Abruptly Edna Hammer swung away from Perry Mason, took two swift backward steps, stopped and stared at him, as though puzzled. Mason moved toward her. She retreated a step as he advanced, then turned, impulsively, and called to Sergeant Holcomb. “Sergeant, may I talk with you a moment?” The eager alacrity of Holcomb’s pounding heels as he strode forward was sufficient answer. When he had joined them, she said, “Mr. Mason thinks it’s all right to talk to me but you seem to think it isn’t. Wouldn’t it be better, if you listened in?”

“He has no right to be present,” Mason said angrily. “I have a right to question you as I want to, and he can keep out of it.”

“But he seems to think he should be where he can hear what you say.”

“What he thinks doesn’t have a damn thing to do with it,” Mason retorted. “You want to cooperate with me, don’t you? Don’t you love your uncle?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Follow my advice,” he said.

Sergeant Holcomb stood close to her side. “If you wish me to be present,” he said, “no power on earth can keep me away. You’ve very properly indicated that this is what you want. Therefore, don’t pay any attention to what he says. You’re absolutely right.”

She smiled coyly at Mason. “Really, Mr. Mason, I think it would be better this way. After all, you haven’t anything to say to me that you wouldn’t want Sergeant Holcomb to hear, have you?”

Mason said, “It isn’t that, it’s the principle of the thing.”

“But, if it’s all right for him to hear what you have to say, why not go ahead and say it?” Her eyes were wide, her voice ingenuous in its innocence. Sergeant Holcomb snickered.

Mason said savagely, “All right, I want to find out about that sideboard drawer and where you kept the key to it.”

“I kept it on an elastic band around my wrist.”

“Why didn’t you put it in your purse or some other place?”

“Because I was afraid I might forget to unlock the drawer in the morning and that might cause some comment. As a matter of fact, I did forget to unlock the drawer but that was because the excitement upset me. You see, I took the key off when I took a shower. What I intended to do was to open the drawer just as soon as I wakened in the morning.”

“So,” Sergeant Holcomb said triumphantly, “it was an absolute impossibility for anyone to have taken the knife from that drawer after you went to bed, unless that person had another key or had picked the lock.”

She nodded. “That,” Mason said, “presupposes that the knife was in the drawer when you locked it.”

“If it wasn’t,” Holcomb said, “it means Kent slipped it out before he went to sleep. So that doesn’t mean any skin off of my nose one way or another.”

“I’d like to see the key,” Mason said.

She opened a purse, took from it a large key of peculiar design.

“You’re carrying that key around with you?” Mason asked.

“Yes, I thought it would be better.”

“But the drawer isn’t locked now?”

“Oh, yes, it is. I locked it last night.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just nervousness, I guess. The thought of someone wandering around makes me… perhaps I hadn’t better say anything more.”

“Let’s take a look at the lock,” Mason suggested.

“If it’ll set your mind at rest,” Sergeant Holcomb remarked, “the police have anticipated your line of reasoning. We’ve had the lock examined by an expert locksmith. It shows no evidences of having been picked. There are no scratches on the ornamental keyplate, indicating that any sharp instruments have been inserted. There are no marks on the wood to indicate that the metal latch has been pushed back.”

Mason shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, I’ll take a look anyway.”

The three of them went to the sideboard. Mason examined the lock carefully, dropped to one knee to gaze at the upper edge of the drawer.

“Open it, please,” he said; “I want to examine the inside.”

Sergeant Holcomb stood with his hands thrust into his trousers pockets, his face wearing a smile of patronizing superiority. Edna Hammer fitted the key to the lock, clicked back the metal catch and opened the drawer. Mason, watching Sergeant Holcomb’s face, saw that the detective didn’t change his expression by so much as the twisting of a muscle, but Edna Hammer gave a little gasp. The open drawer disclosed a plushlined receptacle for a fork and a knife. There was only the fork in the recessed receptacles. Mason bent forward as though to make a close inspection and Sergeant Holcomb leaned forward so that he might peer more closely, watching lest Mason should plant some clew. Edna Hammer’s fingers clutched Mason’s arm, clung to it frantically. “You looked in the drawer when you locked it last night?” Mason asked her making his voice sound casual.

She nodded her head. Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

“Well,” Mason said, “I guess that’s all I need right here. Now, I’d like to talk with some of the other witnesses.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Duncan and Maddox.”

“They’re subpoenaed to appear before the Grand Jury later on this morning.”

“That’s one of the reasons I want to talk with them.”

“You can’t talk with them unless they want to talk with you.”

“Naturally. I’ll ask them if they’ll…”

Sergeant Holcomb said, “I’ll ask them if they want to talk with you. If they do, all right. If they don’t, you can’t talk with them.” He strode toward the left wing of the house.

Mason gripped Edna’s shoulder, whirled her around to face him. “Didn’t you plant it?” he asked, his voice savage in its impatience.

“Yes.”

“Do you mean to say it was there when you locked the drawer last night?”

“Yes.”

“Who saw you put it there?”

“No one.”

“But someone must have taken it.” She nodded dazed acquiescence. “Someone who knew the trick I was planning to play and decided to checkmate me on it.”

“But who could have done that?”

“Besides yourself,” he told her, “there were only two people who knew anything about that knife, unless, perhaps, you told someone.”