Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Velvet Claws

“Get me a tray,” he said, “and I’ll take in a couple of cups to Sergeant Hoffman and Carl Griffin. You can serve coffee to the others upstairs.”

Wordlessly, she secured him a tray. Perry Mason poured three cups of coffee, picked up the tray, and walked into the dining room, through it into the sitting room.

Sergeant Hoffman was standing, his shoulders thrown back, his head thrust forward, feet wide apart.

Plumped down in one of the chairs, his face flushed and his eyes very red, was Carl Griffin.

Sergeant Hoffman was talking as Perry Mason brought in the coffee.

“That wasn’t the way you talked about her when you first came in,” Sergeant Hoffman said.

“I was drunk then,” saidGriffin.

Hoffman stared at him. “Many times a person tells the truth when he’s drunk and conceals his feelings when he’s sober,” he remarked.

Carl Griffin raised his eyebrows in an expression of wellbred surprise.

“Indeed?” he observed. “I’d never noticed it.”

Sergeant Hoffman heard Mason behind him, whirled, and grinned as he saw the steaming cups of coffee.

“Okay, Mason,” he said, “that’s going to come in pretty handy. Drink one of these,Griffin, and you’ll feel better.”

Griffin nodded. “It looks good, but I feel all right now.”

Mason handed him a cup of coffee.

“Do you know anything about a will?” asked Sergeant Hoffman, abruptly.

“I’d rather not answer that, if you don’t mind, Sergeant,”Griffin answered.

Hoffman took himself a cup of coffee. “It happens that I do mind,” he commented. “I want you to answer that question.”

“Yes, there’s a will,”Griffin admitted.

“Where is it?” asked Hoffman.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you know there is one?”

“He showed it to me.”

“Does the property all go to his wife?”

Griffin shook his head.

“I don’t think anything goes to her,” he said, “except the sum of five thousand dollars.”

Sergeant Hoffman raised his eyebrows, and whistled.

“That,” he said, “puts a different aspect on it.”

“Different aspect on what?” askedGriffin.

“On the whole situation,” said Hoffman. “She was kept here practically dependent on him, and upon his continuing to live. The minute he died, she was put out with virtually nothing.”

Griffin volunteered a statement by way of explanation. “I don’t think they were very congenial.”

Sergeant Hoffman said, musingly, “That’s not the point. Usually in any of these cases, we have to look for a motive.”

Mason grinned at Sergeant Hoffman.

“Are you insinuating that Mrs. Belter fired the shot which killed her husband?” he asked, as though the entire idea were humorous.

“I was making a routine investigation, Mason, in order to find out who might have killed him. In such cases, we always look for a motive. We try to find out any one who would have benefited by his death.”

“In that case,”Griffin remarked, soberly, “I presume that I’ll come under suspicion.”

“How do you mean?” asked Hoffman.

“Under the terms of the will,” saidGriffin slowly, “I take virtually all of the estate. I don’t know as it’s any particular secret. I think that Uncle George had more affection for me than he did for any one else in the world. That is, he had as much affection for me as he could have, considering his disposition. I doubt if he was capable of having affection for any one.”

“How did you feel toward him?” asked Hoffman.

“I respected his mind,” Carl Griffin replied, choosing his words carefully, “and I think I appreciated something of his disposition. He lived a life that was very much apart, because he had a mind which was very impatient of all subterfuges and hypocrisies.”

“Why did that condemn him to live apart?” asked Sergeant Hoffman.

Griffin made a slight motion with his shoulders.

“If you had a mind like that,” he said, “you wouldn’t need to ask the question. The man had wonderful intellectual capacity. He had the ability to see through people and to penetrate sham and hypocrisy. He was the type of a man who never made any friends. He was so thoroughly selfreliant that he didn’t have to lean on any one, and, therefore, he hadn’t any ground for establishing friendships. His sole inclination was to fight. He fought the world and everyone in it.”

“Evidently he didn’t fight you,” said Sergeant Hoffman.

“No,” admittedGriffin, “he didn’t fight me, because he knew that I didn’t give a damn about him or his money. I didn’t lick his boots, and, on the other hand, I didn’t doublecross him. I told him what I thought, and I shot fair with him.”

Sergeant Hoffman narrowed his eyes. “Who did doublecross him?” he asked.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“You said you didn’t doublecross him, so he liked you.”

“That’s right.”

“And there was an emphasis on the pronoun you used.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“How about his wife? Didn’t he like her?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t discuss his wife with me.”

“Did she doublecross him?” demanded Sergeant Hoffman.

“How should I know that?”

Sergeant Hoffman stared at the young man. “You sure know how to keep things to yourself,” he mused, “but if you won’t talk, you won’t, so that’s all there is to it.”

“But I’ll talk, Sergeant,” protestedGriffin, “I’ll tell you everything I can.”

Sergeant Hoffman sighed and said, “Can you tell me exactly where you were when the murder was committed?”

A flush came overGriffin’s face.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” he said, “but I can’t.”

“Why?” asked Sergeant Hoffman.

“Because,” saidGriffin, “in the first place, I don’t know when the murder was committed, and in the second place, I wouldn’t know where I was. I’m afraid I’d been making quite an evening of it. I was out with a young woman earlier in the evening, and after I left her I went to a few speakeasies on my own. When I started home, I had that damned flat tire and I knew I was too drunk to change it. I couldn’t find a garage that was open, and it was raining, so I just fought the car along over the road. It must have taken me hours to get here.”

“The tire was pretty well chewed to pieces,” remarked Sergeant Hoffman. “And, by the way, did any one else know of your uncle’s will? Had any one else seen it?”

“Oh, yes,”Griffin answered, “my lawyer saw it.”

“Oh,” said Sergeant Hoffman, “so you had a lawyer, too, did you?”

“Of course I had a lawyer. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Who is he?” asked Hoffman.

“Arthur Atwood. He’s got offices in theMutualBuilding.”

Sergeant Hoffman turned to Mason. “I don’t know him. Do you know him, Mason?”

“Yes,” Mason said, “I’ve met him once or twice. He’s a baldheaded chap, who used to do some personal injury work. They say he always settles his cases out of court and always gets a good settlement.”

“How did you happen to see the will in the presence of your lawyer?” pressed Sergeant Hoffman. “It’s not usual for a man to call in the beneficiary under his will, together with his lawyer, in order to show them how the will is made, is it?”

Griffin pressed his lips together. “That’s something that you’ll have to ask my attorney about. I simply can’t go into it. It’s rather a complicated matter and one that I would prefer not to discuss.”

Sergeant Hoffman snapped. “All right, let’s forget about that stuff. Now go ahead and tell me what it was.”

“What do you mean?” askedGriffin.

Bill Hoffman turned around so that he was squarely facing the young man, and looked down at him. His jaw was thrust slightly forward, and his patient eyes were suddenly hard.