Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Long-Legged Models

“You got back along in the latter part of the evening?”

“That’s right.”

“And had only had this sandwich?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask your wife to go out?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“She was angry because I hadn’t been home for dinner, because I’d gone out to make a business deal so soon after we’d been married. We had a little argument.”

“That’s all you have to tell me?” Mason asked.

“That’s all, except this boneheaded stunt of yours of shooting a bullet hole in my desk and... And now the officers claim that gun was the murder gun. It’s absolutely impossible! It’s utterly ridiculous! But if they keep messing around with it, they’re going to drag Dawn’s name into the newspapers.”

“Not unless you do something that drags it in,” Mason said. “The officers think that I had the murder gun in my possession, that I went out to see you, got you to produce your gun and fired your gun into the desk. Then I supposedly switched weapons on you in the confusion, so that the gun I gave you was the murder weapon, and I slipped the gun that was in your desk drawer in my pocket.”

Garvin’s face showed his surprise. “You say the officers think that?”

Mason nodded.

“But why?” Garvin said. “They’re trying to sell me on the idea that my wife went down to the office, got the gun... They’ve insinuated that Casselman was trying to blackmail her, and— How do you know what the officers are thinking?”

“Because,” Mason said, “they’ve just been here and virtually threatened me with arrest for concealing evidence and a few other things.”

Garvin slowly straightened away from the desk. “By George!” he said, “I never thought of that, but you could have done it. I thought I smelled a rat. You’re not so dumb as to let a gun go off accidentally.”

“Therefore,” Mason said, “if I had the murder weapon in my possession, if I went out there and got you to produce your gun from your desk drawer and then if I fired your gun into the desk, I certainly made a sufficient commotion so that in the confusion I could have substituted the murder gun in place of your gun.”

“You sure could at that,” Garvin said.

“Now then,” Mason said, “which gun was it that I fired? The gun that you took out of the desk, or the murder gun that I had with me?”

“You discharged my gun, the one that I took out of the desk,” Garvin said unhesitatingly.

“You’re certain of that?”

“Absolutely certain. I remember every move you made. I remember producing the gun and handing it to you. You took it in your right hand and swung it up and down two or three times getting the balance of it, and about the third time you tried it you fired it right into the desk.”

“The gun that you handed me?”

“The gun that I handed you,” Garvin said. “But you certainly could have switched guns afterwards, because everyone was dashing in to the office. I remember you holding the gun in your hand, and then you— Good heavens, Mason! That’s what you did!”

“The police seem to think so.”

A grin spread over Garvin’s features. “Now that puts a different aspect on the whole business. How are they going to make any trouble for Dawn if you had an opportunity to switch weapons? All right, Mason, they say all’s fair in love and war. As far as I’m concerned, I’m going to play along with the police on the theory they have.”

“Well,” Mason said, “why the deuce do you think I gave you the tip in the first place?”

Garvin thought things over. Suddenly he moved over toward the lawyer, and shot out his hand. “Shake hands, Mason,” he said. “You’re... You’re a gentleman! Wait till I get hold of Dawn and tell her about this!”

Garvin started for the door, closed his hand around the knob, then suddenly turned back to face the lawyer.

“Any time you want a good deal on a sports car, Mason, I’ll make you a very extra special price on that X-60 job you were interested in.”

“Thanks,” Mason said, “but I wasn’t interested in it.”

“Well, I’ll make you a mighty good price on it anyway.”

“Just a moment,” Mason said. “Can you tell me everyone who has keys to your office?”

Garvin seemed surprised. “The janitor of course, my wife, my secretary.”

“Your dad?”

“Oh sure. I have a key to his office, and he has a key to mine. We don’t ever use them but we have them.”

“I was just checking,” Mason said.

“You don’t want to sign an order for that sports job?”

Mason smiled and shook his head.

“Let me know when you change your mind.”

Garvin whipped the door open, and walked out into the corridor.

Mason returned to his desk.

Della Street said with admiration in her voice, “That was some exhibition of salesmanship, Mr. Perry Mason!”

Mason might not have heard her. “Get down to Paul Drake’s office, Della. Ask him to get men on the job in Las Vegas and find out everything we can find out about Dawn Joyce.”

Less than an hour after Junior Garvin had left the office, Della Street’s telephone rang. She talked for a few moments, then said, “Just a moment. I’ll see.”

She placed her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone, said, “Chief, it’s Marie Barlow. She’s uncovered some things that bother her.”

“What?” Mason asked.

“Apparently some errors that are more serious than mere errors.”

“Let me talk with her.” Mason said.

Mason picked up his own telephone, said, “Connect me on Della Street’s line, Gertie, and leave Della Street on there so we can both listen.”

A moment later Mason heard the click of the connection and said, “Hello, Marie, this is Perry Mason. I’m on the line. What is it?”

“I didn’t want to bother you, Mr. Mason,” she said, “but I wanted you to know about it. There’s something wrong here.”

“What?”

“Checks have been made out on bills that have been received but the firms to whom the checks were paid apparently didn’t have any orders to do any work.

“For instance, I’ve uncovered several receipted bills from the Acme Electrical and Plumbing Repair Company. The total of the different statements amounts to over six thousand dollars.

“Now there are canceled checks showing that payments have been made in the exact amount of the respective statements. The statements aren’t itemized. They’re only general; such as, repairs and wiring on a certain building.”

“Well, why not ring up the Acme Company and ask them what it’s all about?” Mason said. “Tell them you’re preparing a statement for property appraisers for income tax, and you want itemized bills and want to know how the orders were placed?”

“I already thought of that,” she said. “There’s only one thing wrong with it.”

“What?”

“There isn’t any Acme Electrical and Plumbing Repair Company listed in the book.”

“What about the street address?”

“There’s a street address,” she said. “1397 Chatham Street, and apparently there isn’t any such firm at that address.”

“What about the bill?” Mason said. “The billhead — is it printed?”

“It’s printed, and looks very imposing. It has a place for job numbers, ledger numbers, order numbers, and all of that. They’re all filled in in pen and ink, and look very fine, but there isn’t any such company. Apparently no such job was performed and...”

“How about the checks?” Mason asked. “How were they endorsed?”

“With a rubber stamp and then cashed. The bank’s closed, and I can’t get any information on that until tomorrow morning.”