Erie Gardner - The Case of the Lazy Lover

The phone on Tragg’s desk rang.

Tragg hesitated a moment, then picked up the receiver, said, “Yes... who? Oh, yes, hello, sheriff... that’s right. I’ve just got a new angle on it... okay, go ahead...”

Tragg held the phone to his ear for some twenty seconds, listening attentively. He frowned thoughtfully at Fleetwood while he was listening. Then he said into the mouthpiece, “I wish you’d take a look at them yourself, sheriff, and I want to go along. It may be important... I can start in ten minutes... I think we’ve got something there. I think this business is all beginning to fit into the component parts of a perfect picture... Okay, I’ll be over. I want to ask a few questions and then I’ll get in touch with you. You be all ready to go, will you... Okay, good-by.”

Tragg hung up the phone, regarded Fleetwood thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“Where did you stop this car?” he asked.

“I told you, about a quarter of a mile from Overbrook’s house.”

“I know, but what sort of a place was it?”

“Well,” Fleetwood said, “it was not too good a place. It looked all right from all I could see driving along with the headlights. It was a nice level place off the road. But when I got into it I found the going pretty soft. It wasn’t so bad at first, but up where I left the car, it was fairly soft.”

Tragg said, “Now look, Fleetwood, you’ve played tag with us long enough. This is the second or third time you’ve changed your story. Now, if you try to cut any corners on me, I’m going to throw the book at you.”

“I’m clean now,” Fleetwood said. “This is it, Lieutenant.”

“I hope it is. Now you say Mrs. Allred jumped out of the car and ran?”

“That’s right.”

“Did she come back?”

“Come back!” Fleetwood said, and laughed. “You couldn’t have dragged her back to that car with a block and tackle.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, of course. She was afraid of her husband, and she had reason to be.”

“Did she know her husband was unconscious when she was running away?”

“I called to her,” Fleetwood said, “but she kept on running.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know. I told her to come on back. And then I yelled and said, ‘I’ve got his gun and he’s lying unconscious here in the car.’ ”

“What did she do?”

“I think she kept on running. But by that time, she’d gone far enough so I couldn’t see. Remember, she was running from the rear of the car, away from the illumination of the headlights.”

“Where were you?”

“I’d just started to walk around the car. I was standing right close to the headlights.”

“Then she could see you in the illumination of the headlights?”

Fleetwood thought a minute, then said, “Yes. Certainly, of course she could. I was standing right in front of the headlights. From where she was standing, she could see me clearly.”

“So you don’t know that she kept on running after you called to her?”

“No, to tell you the truth, I don’t. The night was dark. There was a cold drizzle falling and you couldn’t much more than see your hand in front of your face. I had quite a time stumbling along getting to Overbrook’s house. I couldn’t see a thing. All I could do was walk toward the sound of the barking dog.”

Tragg nodded. “I have a hunch you’re doing all right for yourself, Fleetwood. But you’re going to have to remain in custody for two or three hours.”

“It suits me,” Fleetwood said. “I’m clean now. And believe me, Lieutenant, it’s a load off my mind.”

“You’re sure you threw that gun away?”

“You’re damn right I threw it away. You can check on my story if you want, Lieutenant. You can find the place where I left the car, and you certainly should be able to find the gun. I threw it ahead of the car and to the left, and it must have gone about — well, a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet. That ground was soft and I must have left tracks there.”

“The tracks have been discovered,” Tragg said drily. “I’m going up to take a look at them. They tend to corroborate your story a hundred percent. Now think carefully. You shut off the ignition on the car when you stopped it?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you switch out the headlights?”

“No, I left the headlights on.”

“So the position of the car could be seen quite clearly?”

“Yes.”

“And when you walked around the car, you walked in front of the car?”

“That’s right.”

“Where were you when you threw the gun away?”

“Standing right in front of the car.”

“So the headlights were on you, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So anyone who was standing some distance back of the car could watch and see plainly what you had done?”

“Yes.”

Tragg looked speculatively at Mason. “Your client tell you anything about this?”

Mason hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

“She should have,” Tragg said.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked.

Tragg said, “Now I can begin to put the whole thing together. Your client ran down to the roadway, Mason. She stopped there. She heard what Fleetwood said about her husband being in the car and being unconscious. She waited. She watched Fleetwood walk around the front of the car and stand in front of the headlights. She saw him throw the gun away. Then she saw him start toward Overbrook’s house. She waited. She had a jack handle in her hand. She knew her husband intended to kill her. She stood there in the drizzle, and in the darkness, waiting. When she saw Fleetwood didn’t intend to come back, she tiptoed back to the car to make sure what Fleetwood said was correct. She found out it was correct. Her husband was just regaining consciousness.

“Mrs. Allred opened the car door on the left-hand side. She got in and proceeded to club her husband to death with the jack handle. Then she backed the car around, drove it back to the highway, down to a place where there was a sheer drop, took her suitcase out, threw the jack handle away, got back in the car and headed it toward the cliff, jumped out, leaving her husband inside, stopped a passing motorist and hitchhiked to town. Now then, if she wants to co-operate, she can cop a plea of manslaughter.”

Mason said, “She didn’t do anything of the sort.”

Tragg smiled knowingly. “The tracks say she did, and tracks don’t lie.”

Mason said, “Fleetwood, if your story’s true, how did it happen that you didn’t...”

Tragg suddenly got to his feet. “I think that will do, Mason.”

“How’s that?” the lawyer asked.

Tragg was smiling. “You’ve done me quite a favor, Mason,” he said. “You’ve got this witness to quit stalling around. He’s told a story now that checks absolutely with the facts. And right now I don’t want you to do anything to spoil it. You’ll have an opportunity to cross-examine this witness when he gets on the witness stand. We can dispense with any further questions from you. You’re going home and get some sleep.”

Mason said, “There are just a couple of questions I want to ask, Tragg. A couple of points I want to clear up.”

Tragg smiled and shook his head.

Mason said, “Hang it, I developed this whole thing for you. I...”

Tragg turned to Fleetwood and said, “No matter what Mason says, Fleetwood, don’t say another word as long as he’s in the room. Do you understand?”

Fleetwood nodded.

Mason, recognizing defeat, pinched out the end of his cigarette, said to Tragg, “Well, it was nice while it lasted.”

Tragg grinned. “This is once,” he said, “that not only does Perry Mason’s client have her neck in the noose, but the great Perry Mason put it there.”