Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret

“I think I did. I tell you, I think I remember hearing it hit on the deck and then splash.”

“And your purse?”

“I know I lost my purse when I went overboard because it was on my wrist when I jumped and it slid off.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went in over my head and started swimming and then of course tried to get my bearings. Then I saw a light on the shore and started for shore.”

“How far did you swim?”

“Only a few strokes, and then I thought the water might be shallow and put my feet down and sure enough the water wasn’t much over my waist. I was able to wade along on the bottom.”

“And then what did you do?”

“I waded ashore.”

“Did you know where you were when you got ashore?”

“I knew where I was before I got ashore.”

“How?”

“There was a wharf near the boat and I recognized it.”

“What kind of a wharf?”

“It was a wharf where they sell oil and gasoline. It is the wharf that’s only about two or three hundred yards from the parking station at the yacht club.”

“Is it the first gasoline wharf to the north of the yacht club?”

“Yes.”

“How close was the boat to that?”

“Well, Mr Mason, I guess, as I think back on it, the tide was coming in, and after the anchor struck something solid and held, the boat started to swing with the incoming tide, and it had swung toward the wharf — I don’t think I was over thirty or forty feet from the wharf when I went in the water. I was within twenty or thirty feet of the wharf when I recognized it. By that time I was just wading ashore.”

“And what did you do?”

“I walked to the parking lot. I keep the keys to my automobile under the floor mat because sometimes I’ve forgotten my purse or lost the car keys, so I got the car keys out from under the mat and started the car.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I drove home. I got out of my wet clothes and... well, I told my husband what had happened.”

“And what did he do?”

“He said that I was completely hysterical, that it would be a bad thing for me to get in touch with the police at that time, particularly until we knew what had happened, that he was going to go down and look at the boat and see if I had actually killed Gilly and if so he would notify the police.

“He prevailed on me to take some pills. They were very strong pills that had been given him as a sedative because of very painful symptoms which sometimes came on him unexpectedly in the middle of the night. He had those pills in reserve. And he gave me a double dose to quiet me.”

“And what happened?”

“I was nervous for a while, then the pills began to take effect. I felt deliciously warm and relaxed, and the next thing I knew it was just about daylight and my husband was standing over me and said, ‘Phyllis, take this water and swallow this pill.’”

“What did you do?”

“I woke up enough to take another pill.”

Mason turned to the newspapermen. “There you are, gentlemen,” Mason said. “There’s the story. Now, if you have a brief period of questioning, my client will try to answer your questions.”

One of the newspapermen said, “What time was this; that is, when you fired the shot?”

Mrs Bancroft faced him frankly. “I think the coroner was probably right as to the time of death,” she said. “It was right around nine o’clock.”

“Do you mean to tell me you hadn’t seen Gilly prior to that time on that day?” Hastings asked.

“I had not seen him. I was trying to avoid him. It came as a distinct surprise to me to find him aboard the yacht.”

“A likely story,” Hastings said.

“Suppose you let us do the talking,” the out-of-town newspaperman said. “I want to get the facts of this story. Can you tell us something about the reason you wanted this man, Fordyce, to live aboard your boat, Mrs Bancroft?”

She said, “Fordyce was... Well, he was in a position where... No, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that without disclosing something I don’t want to disclose.”

“Did the blackmail have something to do with Fordyce?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that question.”

“You’d paid him a thousand dollars — this man, Gilly?”

“Yes.”

“And your daughter, Rosena, had paid three thousand dollars?”

“My daughter had not confided in me exactly what had happened, but I do happen to know that she also was being blackmailed.”

“Over the same thing?”

“Yes.”

“Then this subject of blackmail was something that affected her happiness as well as your own?”

“I’d prefer not to answer that.”

One of the other newspapermen said, “Do you know where your husband went after you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“He told you he was going down to the boat?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have any talk with him afterwards about whether he had been aboard the boat?”

“Yes. He said he drove down and couldn’t find the boat. He said that he walked out on the wharf. There was a thick pea-soup fog but I had told him that with the incoming tide the boat would be close enough to the wharf so he could see it. In fact, it would have been within... oh, I think ten or fifteen feet of the wharf by the time the tide had swung it around on the anchor.”

“He said he couldn’t see it?”

“Yes.”

“He admitted to you, however, that he went down to the bay after you became unconscious.”

“Yes.”

“And tried to find the boat?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that, that he went down?” Hastings asked.

“I don’t know, but I do know that it was around ten o’clock when I got home and got out of my wet clothes, and after I had told him my story — I guess it must have been ten-thirty or quarter of eleven before I went to sleep.”

“And your husband was with you until you went to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” Hastings said to the newsmen, “since the time of death was fixed at around nine o’clock it would have been impossible for her husband to have taken over and been the one who fired the fatal shot, which I think is the idea Perry Mason is trying to implant in your minds.”

The newspapermen looked at each other.

One of the men said, “I have some more questions but they can keep. This story won’t keep. I want to get it on the wires before I’m scooped.”

“You said it,” one of the other men said. “Let’s go.”

They went pell-mell out of the law library, leaving Hastings, the district attorney, behind.

“I have a few more questions,” Hastings said.

“Don’t you want to get your story on the wire?” Mason asked, smiling.

“No,” Hastings said, “not yet. I want to get some more information.”

Mason smiled at him and said, “Under the circumstances, Mr Hastings, I think your devotion to your occupation as district attorney of this county is more deep seated, loyal and sincere than your devotion to the paper which has temporarily given you a press card so that you could attend this conference.

“I wish to inform you that the interrogation period is over and Mrs Bancroft is not going to answer any more questions.”

Hastings turned to Bancroft and said, “How about you? You went down to the wharf and—”

“Don’t misunderstand us,” Mason said. “This is a press conference to hear the story of Mrs Bancroft. Her husband is not making any statement.”

Hastings said, “This is the same old run-around. You’re going to try to make it appear that her husband went down to the wharf, that there were two guns, that he was the one who shot Gilly and you’ll try to get Mrs Bancroft off and then when we try the husband you’ll make it appear that Mrs Bancroft was the one who fired the shot. As far as I’m concerned, your story crucifies her right now.