Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Long-Legged Models

“And under those circumstances, could it have been possible that you suggested to her that it would be highly inadvisable to go out the front door, but that you would come to the service entrance and escort her out the back door and down to your automobile, and that in the meantime she was to say nothing about what had happened?”

Mason gave that matter thoughtful consideration. “You mean that I would advise her to say nothing to the police about what had happened?”

“I’m considering that as a possibility.”

“Not to report the body?”

“Exactly.”

“Wouldn’t that be rather unprofessional on my part?”

“It depends on how you look at it,” Tragg said. “A legal code of ethics can be interpreted in many different ways. It’s a well-known fact that your interpretation of a code of ethics is all in favor of your client. You wouldn’t want your client to do anything that would incriminate her no matter what the law on the subject might be.”

Mason deliberated for a moment. “I take it you mean that my obligation not to betray a client would control all of the other rules of ethics?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s an interesting possibility,” Mason admitted.

“You haven’t answered the question.”

“Then I’ll answer it now. The answer is no.”

“You wouldn’t kid me?”

“No.”

“When did you first learn Casselman was dead?”

“Miss Street heard it on the radio this morning.”

“And told you?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Early.”

“How early?”

“I can’t say.”

“And you went right out to start a cover-up?”

“I went right out to try to get in touch with a client.”

“Garvin?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to tell him Casselman was dead. I thought it might change some of his plans.”

“See Garvin?”

“No.”

“Talk with him?”

“No.”

“Well thanks, Mason. I wanted to ask. I was instructed to interview you.”

“I’m always glad to co-operate with the police,” Mason said.

Tragg drew his extended forefinger across his throat. “If everyone co-operated like you do, Mason, that D.A. wouldn’t have a thing to worry about.”

“No?”

“No, we’d never catch anyone so he wouldn’t have to try any cases... Well, I thought I’d give you an opportunity to come clean.”

“Thanks.”

“You have had an opportunity to come clean, you know. By the same sign if you’ve tried to gum up the works, you’ve done it after knowing what we’re looking for. That’s bad.

“Now we’re looking for Garvin. If you get in touch with him tell him to call Homicide and ask for me. Tell him it’s rather important.”

Tragg got up from his chair, stretched, yawned, said, “Thanks a lot for all the help you’ve given me, Mason. Not conscious help of course, but unconscious help. I can assure you it’s been considerable.

“By the way, just checking through the records, we note that Homer Garvin had himself appointed a deputy sheriff so he could carry a gun — a special deputy... You know the pitch — personal protection. Large sums of money late at night, and all that sort of thing. He’s quite an operator, I understand. Carries quite a bit of cash with him... You wouldn’t happen to know where Garvin’s gun is now, would you?”

“What gun?”

“The one Mr. Garvin usually carries with him.”

“Wouldn’t it be in Mr. Garvin’s possession?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure I don’t know,” Tragg said. “But,” he announced purposefully, “we intend to find out and you can gamble on that, Mr. Mason. Well, good morning. I won’t detain you any longer. I know that you’re busy. And after all, now that I’ve been here you’ll probably have some telephoning to do.”

“You haven’t tapped the line, have you?” Mason asked.

“No, no, no,” Tragg said. “We wouldn’t go that far. Well, I’ll be seeing you, Counselor. ‘Bye now.”

Tragg left the office.

Mason said to Della Street, “Get Marie Barlow on the phone, Della.”

“Marie Barlow...? Oh, Marie Arden. I can’t get used to her married name.”

Della Street called the switchboard and a moment later said, “Here’s Marie on the phone.”

“Marie,” Mason said, “this may be rather important. A lot of things have happened since I saw you last. Garvin may call you. If he does, I want you to tell him to get in touch with me at once, and tell him that he had better be a little careful how he does it because police are looking for him.”

“Good heavens! The police!”

“That’s right.”

“What makes you think he’ll get in touch with me?”

“Because I told him last night that you had been in to see him twice. It was news to him. His secretary had given him to understand that you’d never even asked for him.”

“What! Why that little, two-timing... why that...”

“Careful,” Mason said, “don’t get your blood pressure up. For your information, Eva Elliott was fired last night and is no longer with Mr. Garvin.”

“Well, good for the boss!” Marie exclaimed. “Who’s running the office?”

“So far no one,” Mason told her.

“Look, Mr. Mason,” she said, “I’m going back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m going back and open up that office for Mr. Garvin, and I’m going to stay on the job until he can get another secretary.”

“You can’t do that,” Mason told her.

“Why can’t I do it? I still have my old key to the office. I know the ropes. I know the clients. And while a lot of water has run under the bridge since I have been there, I know enough about his investments and his manner of operation so I can keep from lousing anything up.

“With my figure the way it is, I won’t be any ornament to the office the way Eva Elliott tried to be, but at least I can be efficient and I’ll answer the phone and see that he gets messages and see that the people who want to get in touch with him can get in touch with him.”

“That might not be advisable,” Mason said.

“What do you mean?”

“Some people,” Mason said.

She laughed. “I’ll use my discretion.”

“The situation may be a little different from what you anticipate. Some of the people who want to get in touch with him may be clothed with authority.”

She thought that over for a moment, then said, “Thanks for the tip, Mr. Mason. My husband has the car. I’m calling a taxicab. If you get in touch with Mr. Garvin, tell him I’m on the job, and that all he’ll owe me will be taxicab fare back and forth.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “It may be a good idea.”

He hung up the telephone, turned to Della Street. “I’m going out, Della. This time I’m going in my car, not in a taxicab.”

“Want a witness?” she asked.

“No, I think you can do more good right at the moment by staying on the job here and—” He broke off as the phone rang.

Della Street picked up her secretarial phone, said, “Who is it, Gertie? Yes, I’m quite sure Mr. Mason wants to talk with him... Homer Garvin on the line,” she said.

Mason grabbed the phone. “Hello, Homer. Where are you?”

Garvin said, “Listen closely, Mason. I may not have time for anything except a few words.”

“Shoot!” Mason told him.

Garvin said, “There’s a possibility Stephanie Falkner fired the shot that killed Casselman while she was acting in self-defense. I want you to get on the job and protect her.”

“All right,” Mason said. “If those are your instructions, that’s fine, but where the devil are you and what—?”

“I’m being a red herring,” Garvin interrupted.