Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Velvet Claws

Locke jumped away from her and stood in a corner, as though he were guarding himself against a physical attack from both of them.

“You dirty, doublecrossing…”

Mason interrupted, “That’s no way to talk to a lady.”

Locke was furious. “You damn fool. Can’t you see she ain’t a lady?”

Esther Linten stared at him from angry eyes. “That’s not going to get you anywhere, Frank. If you didn’t want me to tell the truth, why the hell didn’t you tell me you wanted an alibi? If you’d wanted me to lie about it why didn’t you tip me off, and I’d have said anything you wanted me to say. But you told me to tell the truth and I did.”

Locke cursed again.

“Well,” said the lawyer, “it’s very evident that this young lady is dressing. We don’t want to detain her. I’m in a hurry Locke. Do you want to go with me, or do you want to stay here with her?”

Locke’s tone was ominous as he said, “I’ll stay here with her.”

“Fine,” Mason remarked, “I’ll put in a telephone call from here.”

He walked over to the telephone, took down the receiver, and said, “Police Headquarters.”

Locke watched him with the look of a cornered rat in his eyes.

After a while Mason spoke into the transmitter, “Get me Sidney Drumm, will you? He’s on the Detective Force.”

Locke’s voice rasped out in agony, “For God’s sake, hang up that receiver, quick.”

Mason turned to survey him with mild curiosity.

“Hang it up!” yelled Locke. “Damn it, you’ve got the whip hand. You’ve worked a frameup on me that I can’t buck. Not that the frameup isn’t crude as hell, but I don’t dare to have you go into the motive. That’s the thing that cooks me. You put on evidence about the motive and a jury would never listen to anything else.”

Mason slid the receiver back on the hook, turned to face Locke.

“Now,” he said, “we’re getting some place.”

“What is it you want?” asked Locke.

“You know what I want,” said Mason.

Locke flung out his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“All right,” he said, “that’s understood. Anything else?”

Mason shook his head. “Not right now. It might be well to remember that Eva Belter is the real owner of the paper now. Personally, I think it would be a good plan to consult with her before you publish anything which might be distasteful to her. You come out every two weeks, don’t you?”

“Yes, our publication day is next Thursday.”

“Anything may happen between now and then, Locke,” Mason told him.

Locke said nothing.

Mason turned to the girl.

“I’m sorry we disturbed you, Miss,” he said.

“That’s all right,” she said. “If the damn fool wanted me to lie, why didn’t he say so? What was his idea in telling me he wanted me to tell the truth?”

Locke whirled on her. “You are lying, Esther. You know damned well you didn’t pass out when you went to bed.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Maybe I didn’t,” she said, “but I can’t remember anything. Lots of times when I get plastered, I can’t remember what happened all during that evening.”

Locke said meaningly, “Well, you’d better get over that habit. It might prove fatal.”

She flared at him. “I should think you’d have a bellyful of having friends who had things fatal happen to them!”

He went white. “Shut up, Esther. Can’t you get the sketch?”

“Shut up yourself, then! I’m not a girl that you can talk to that way.”

Mason interposed. “Well, never mind, it’s all settled now, anyway. Come on, Locke, let’s get going. I think you’d better come with me after all. I’ve got some more things I want to say to you.”

Locke walked to the door, paused, looked at Esther Linten with his mild brown eyes gleaming malevolence, and then stepped out into the corridor.

Mason stepped up behind him without even looking back at the girl, and closed the door. He took Locke’s arm and piloted him toward the elevator.

“I just want you to know,” said Locke, “that that frameup was so damned crude that it wasn’t even funny. It was this Georgia business that you mentioned that bothered me. I don’t want to have anybody go into that. I think you’ve got the wrong idea about it, but it’s something that’s a closed chapter in my life.”

Mason smiled, and said, “Oh, no, it isn’t, Locke. Murder never outlaws, you know, and they can always bring you back for another trial.”

Locke pushed himself away from Mason’s side. His lips were twitching, and his eyes were filled with panic. “I can beat that case if they try me in Savannah. But if you spring it here in connection with another murder case, they’d make short work of me, and you’re just smooth enough to know it.”

Mason shrugged his shoulders. “Incidentally, Locke,” he said, “I presume that you’ve been embezzling money from the accounts to keep this thing going,” and he jerked his thumb back toward the room they had quitted.

“Well,” said Locke, “guess again. That’s one place where you can’t do a damn thing. Nobody on earth knows what my understanding was with George Belter, except George Belter. It wasn’t in writing. It was just an understanding between us.”

“Well, be careful what you say, Locke,” Mason warned, “and remember that Mrs. Belter is the owner of the paper now. You’d better have an understanding with her before you pay out any more money. Your accounts will have to be audited in court now, you know.”

Locke swore under his breath. “So that’s it, is it?”

“That’s it,” Mason said. “I’m going to leave you when we get out of the hotel, Locke. Don’t go back and try to beat up that woman, because anything she might say wouldn’t make a particle of difference. I don’t know whether Sol Steinburg is right in identifying you as the man who bought the murder gun in this case or not. But, even if he isn’t, all we need to do is to simply pass the word to the Georgia authorities, and you go back for another trial. Maybe you beat the rap, maybe you don’t; but you’re out of the picture here.”

Locke said, curiously, “Listen, you’re playing a hell of a deep game. I’d like to know what it is.”

Mason looked at him innocently.

“Why no, Locke,” he said, “I’m just representing a client, and sort of messing around here, trying to find out something. I had some detectives who chased down the number on the gun. I guess we got it a little bit in advance of the police, because they are going about it as a matter of routine. And I did some singleshooting on it.”

Locke laughed. “Save that,” he said, “and tell it to somebody who appreciates it. You don’t fool me any with that damned innocent stuff.”

Mason shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, Locke,” he said, “I’m sorry. I may get in touch with you later on. In the meantime, I’d be awfully careful about mentioning anything at all about Mrs. Belter’s business, or about my business, and that goes double for anything connected with this Beechwood Inn business, or Harrison Burke.”

“Hell,” said Locke, “you don’t need to rub it in. I’m off of that stuff for life. I know when I’m licked. What are you going to do about thatGeorgia business? Anything?”

“I’m not a detective or an officer. I’m simply a lawyer. I’m representing Mrs. Belter. That’s all.”

The cage dropped them into the lobby of the hotel, and Mason went to the door and signaled a taxi.

“So long, Locke,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

As the cab drove away, Locke was standing in the doorway, leaning up against the building for support. His face was pale and his lips twisted into a frozen smile.