Erle Gardner - The Case of the Moth-Eaten Mink

She motioned to Perry Mason with excitement. “Morris Alburg on the line.”

“Well, thank heavens,” Mason said. “It’s about time that boy made a report.”

Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Hello, Morris. What the devil is all this about and where are you?”

“I’m in jail,” Morris Alburg said.

“What?”

“In jail.”

“The devil you are! How long have you been there?”

“Since nine o’clock this morning.”

“Oh-oh,” Mason said, and then added, “Why didn’t you telephone me?”

“They wouldn’t let me.”

“Did you tell them you wanted to talk with your lawyer?”

“I told them everything. I haven’t been in this jail very long. They’ve been shunting me around, keeping me traveling in an automobile, taking me from one precinct to another...”

“You’re down at—?”

“That’s right. I’m at the Central Precinct now.”

“I’ll be there,” Mason said.

Mason hung up the telephone, dashed over to the closet and grabbed his hat.

“What is it?” Drake asked, as Mason made for the door.

“Same old run-around,” Mason said. “They’ve had Morris Alburg since nine o’clock this morning and they’ve been keeping him buried. Just now they’re letting him call his attorney. That means they’ve squeezed everything out of him they can possibly get... Stick around, Paul, so I can get you if I need you. I’ll be wanting you, and don’t fire Minerva — not yet.”

“All right,” Mason said, as he settled himself in the straight-backed chair in the visitors’ room, “tell me what happened.”

Alburg put his head in his hands. “Honestly, Mr. Mason, I’m in a mess, one hell of a mess... You got my letter with the check?”

“Yes, I got your letter with the check,” Mason said, “and I knew just as much when I finished reading it as I knew before. How did you get picked up?”

“I was on my way up to your office.”

“My office?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened?”

“I get to the entrance of your building. A plainclothes man jumps out of the crowd. He grabs me. They shove me into an automobile. I’m away from there before I even have a chance to know what’s going on.”

Mason said angrily, “Why didn’t you stop some place and telephone me? I’d have told you to keep away from the office. You might have known they’d have a man planted there. That and your restaurant were the first places they’d look... Now, what happened? Go on, tell me the story.”

“The worst part you haven’t even heard yet.”

“All right,” Mason said, “give me the worst part.”

“I had the gun.”

“The gun?”

“That’s right.”

“What gun?”

“The gun the police say killed Fayette.”

Mason regarded him with frowning disapproval.

“It’s not what you think, Mr. Mason. It’s a long story and...”

“Well, tell it and make it short,” Mason said. “What’s Dixie Dayton to you?”

“She’s sort of related by marriage.”

“How come?”

“Thomas E. Sedgwick is my half-brother. Does that mean anything to you?”

“That means a lot,” Mason said.

“Sedgwick was making book. He was one of these smart boys. I warned him. He was in love with Dixie Dayton. She warned him. We kept trying to straighten that boy out. It’s no use.

“He thought he was smart. Sure, there was a payoff. So what? He thought he had a license. You don’t get a license from a payoff. You get trouble. You get money for a while, sure. Then you get trouble.

“All right. Tom gets trouble. He won’t listen. A new cop gets on the job. He gets a tip on Tom. He don’t make a pinch. Tom could square a pinch. He wants to get Tom so he can maybe prove a payoff. That’s hell.”

“Claremont had the goods?”

“On Tom I guess, yes.”

“On the payoff, I mean.”

“On the payoff he has suspicion only. That’s why he wants Tom. He wants it Tom should squeal, should sing to a grand jury. What a mess! Tom don’t get it at first. This cop gets the goods. He has Tom dead to rights. And he don’t do a thing. Tom thought he wanted a cut. He don’t want no cut. He wants Tom should squeal.

“Tom is dumb. Like I tell you, Mr. Mason, that boy thinks a payoff is a license. But the payoff ain’t dumb. He gets the tip. He tells Tom to sell out, to get out until things blow over. This cop is smart. He’s traced the payoff.”

“Who was the payoff?”

“Fayette. He’s the first step.”

“What happened?”

“Tom, he can’t stand any subpoena. You know what happens if he gets a subpoena to the grand jury. Tom sells out. He takes it on the lam.”

“Then what?”

“They say this cop was smart. He was watching for Tom to do that. Once Tom pulled that sell-out-and-run stuff, the cop had him. They say Tom bumped him off. I don’t know. Tom swears he didn’t. Dixie believes in him.”

“Oh, yes?” Mason said. “And how did Dixie explain to you the fact that Tom had Claremont’s service revolver among his cherished possessions?”

Alburg jumped up as though his chair had been wired. “Had what?” he shouted.

“Pipe down,” Mason said. “She had Claremont’s gun.”

Alburg put his head in his hands. “That does it! Now we’re in a jam right. Then Tom did kill him.”

“It sure looks like it,” Mason said.

“Oh, what a mess! And what the hell, I’m in it right with Tom and Dixie.”

“Damned if you aren’t,” Mason said. “And you might as well include me while you’re taking inventory.”

“Oh, what a mess!” Morris said.

“Never mind feeling sorry for yourself now, Morris. There isn’t time for that. How about Fayette? Did you kill him?”

“No, no, of course not. Me, I don’t kill anyone!”

“You say the police found the gun on you?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know that was the gun that killed Fayette?”

“The police said so.”

“When?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. That’s why I’m here. They wanted a ballistics test. When they got it, they booked me and then let me call you.”

“How long have you had that gun?”

“That’s just it. I only had it — since the shooting.”

“Tell me the whole story.”

“Where do I start?” Alburg asked.

“Start at the beginning, and be sure it is the beginning.”

“I’ve already told you about Tom Sedgwick...”

“Never mind him. Tell me about Dixie, all about her.”

“Tom and Dixie...”

“Are they married?”

“That’s one of those things, Mr. Mason. Tom had been married. There was difficulty over the divorce. You can’t blame him and Dixie...”

Mason said, “Don’t be a fool. The last thing I’m interested in right now is their morals. If they’re married they can’t testify one against the other. If they’re not—”

“They’re not.”

“All right then, tell me about Dixie; about when she came back.”

“Well, I haven’t heard anything from Tom or Dixie. I’m scared stiff I will! A cop killing, Mr. Mason! You know what that is. Then all of a sudden Dixie walks into the place. I have to grab a table. My knees go no good. She gives me a cold eye as a tip-off that I am to treat her as a stranger. Then she says she wants a job.”

“What did you do?”

“I gave her a job. I had to. Tom was broke and sick. He’s hot. The police didn’t know about Dixie.”

“Dixie Dayton’s not her real name?”

“Dixie, yes, her first name. The other, no, of course not.”

“And her Social Security number was faked?”