Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Long-Legged Models

“All right,” Mason said, “thanks a lot, Paul. Keep on the job and let me know. Put out as many men as you need to give this case a thorough coverage.”

“Within reasonable limits?” Drake asked.

“Within no limits at all,” Mason said. “I want the facts.”

“Okay,” Drake said, “I’ll keep digging.”

“And thanks for that tip, Paul. It may be very, very important.”

“That’s okay,” Drake said, obviously pleased. “I’ll keep you posted, Perry.”

He left the office.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Mason turned to Della Street.

“All right, Della,” he said, “now let’s have the real story. You...”

The door from the outer office was pushed open and Sgt. Holcomb came in unannounced.

“Well,” he said, “a little conference, eh?”

“A little private conference,” Mason said.

“That’s all right,” Sgt. Holcomb grinned. “Go right on talking. I instructed Gertie out there not to announce me. I told her I’d just come right on in.”

“Nothing like making yourself at home,” Mason said.

“That’s right.” Holcomb agreed, standing by the door leaning his back against the wall. “I represent the majesty of the law. The law doesn’t sit outside and wait in anybody’s outer office. When we have to see somebody, we see them.”

“Don’t you even announce the fact that you are coming?” Mason asked.

“Some of the officers do,” Holcomb said. “I don’t. I don’t believe in tipping a man off. I like to watch his face during the first second or two after he sees me walk in.”

“And did you learn anything from my face?” Mason asked.

“I think I did. I know damn well you didn’t want to see me. That’s one thing.”

“Well, since you’re here, you may as well sit down. Take your hat off, and let’s see what we can do for you.”

“I’m comfortable the way I am,” Holcomb said.

“All right, what do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Sergeant, so I don’t intend to waste my time speculating on what it is you want. Previous experience has shown me you are quite able to express your ideas, your wants, your likes and your dislikes. Now start talking.”

“You’re the one to start talking,” Sgt. Holcomb said. “You went down to Homer Garvin’s used car lot and fired a gun into Garvin’s desk.”

“An accidental discharge of a firearm, my dear Sergeant,” Mason said. “I intend to reimburse Mr. Garvin for the desk. No one was hurt, and I fail to see why it should arouse any interest on the part of the police.”

“The interest on the part of the police,” Sgt. Holcomb said with elaborate sarcasm, “comes from what you doubtless consider purely a minor matter: the fact that this gun was the murder weapon which was used to kill George Casselman in the Ambrose Apartments the night before.”

“Are you certain?” Mason asked.

“Of course, I’m certain! Now then I want to know where you got that gun?”

“The gun,” Mason said, “was given to me by Homer Garvin, Jr. I asked him if he had a gun, and he said he did. He said that he had one that he used to protect himself against holdups. In the used car business they sometimes take in quite a bit of money in the form of cash. Garvin, I believe, has a permit to carry the weapon. He said that he did. That, however, is something which you are in a position to look up much more easily than I am.”

“So Garvin gave you that gun?” Holcomb asked.

“He handed me the gun, or rather he showed it to me. I reached out, picked it up, and tried the balance of it. I threw it down the way a man will in trying out the balance of a gun, and I guess in doing so I must have inadvertently pulled the trigger. In any event, Garvin didn’t tell me that it was loaded.”

“You thought he’d be protecting himself with an empty gun?” Sgt. Holcomb asked.

“I don’t know that I gave the matter any thought at all. I wouldn’t tell you that I actually did intend to snap the trigger, nor on the other hand would I go so far as to say that I didn’t intend to snap the trigger. I was testing the balance of the gun, and it went off.”

“And what happened after that?” Holcomb asked.

“Stephanie Falkner is a client of mine. She was, I felt, in some danger. Her father had been murdered, and the murderer is still at large as far as we know. I suggested to young Garvin it might be a good idea for him to take the gun and leave it with her for a short time. You see he and Stephanie Falkner had been quite good friends before his marriage.”

“So I understand,” Holcomb said drily. “Now then, Mason, you know damn well that the gun you got from Garvin wasn’t the murder weapon that killed George Casselman.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so, Sergeant. I didn’t think it was either. But since the police have so dogmatically asserted that it was the weapon, I didn’t feel in a position to contradict them.”

“You know what I mean,” Sgt. Holcomb said. “You substituted weapons. You had the murder weapon in your possession. You had received it from a client. You had that gun concealed on you when you went down to call on Garvin. You asked Garvin if he had a gun. He told you he did. He put the gun out on the desk. You fired Garvin’s gun so as to divert attention from yourself and in the resulting confusion switched guns.”

“Then,” Mason said, “it is now your contention that Garvin’s gun was not the murder weapon.”

“That’s what I think.”

“And you think that I had the murder weapon with me and that I substituted it for Garvin’s gun?”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” Mason said, “you can quite soon test the accuracy of your conclusions by taking the number of the murder weapon and tracing it on the firearms registration.”

“We’ve done that,” Sgt. Holcomb said. “The gun was purchased by Homer Garvin, Sr., the old man.”

“Then how did Garvin, Jr. get it?”

“His father has a sporting goods store among his other investments.

He took three identical guns, snub-nosed, two-inch barrel, detective guns, kept two for himself and gave one to his son.”

“Kept two for himself?” Mason asked.

“That’s what the boy tells us.”

“Then the firearms register shows the gun that I received from young Garvin was a gun that had been given him by his father. Is that right?”

“The firearms register shows that the gun with which the murder was committed was one of three weapons purchased by Homer Garvin, Sr. Now we know damn well that the gun you got from young Garvin wasn’t the gun that was used in committing the murder.”

“How do you know?” Mason asked.

“Because young Garvin is able to account for the possession of that gun every minute of the time during the evening on which the murder was committed.”

“Then it couldn’t have been the murder gun.”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Sgt. Holcomb said.

“Well, make up your mind,” Mason told him. “First, you claim it was the murder gun, then you claim it wasn’t the murder gun.”

“You know what I mean. You substituted the murder gun. You knew that the murder gun was a gun which had been purchased by Homer Garvin’s father. He had given it to Stephanie Falkner. She went out and killed George Casselman with it. She called on you for help. You took the murder gun to young Garvin’s place of business, got his gun, fired it into the desk, and then in the resulting confusion you switched weapons and got him to take the murder weapon up to Stephanie Falkner.”

“Can you tell me any reason why I should take the murder weapon and leave it for police to find?” Mason asked.