Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

A moment later, a man’s voice said, “Mr. Mason, this is Mr. Drake’s correspondent in Redding, Alan Hancock. He said you wanted to talk with me.”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “What about this Monroe family? What can you tell me about them?”

“Mr. Monroe is the town’s leading citizen.”

“How old?” Mason asked.

“Oh, about fifty-two or fifty-three, I would judge. He’s made a fortune in lumber.”

“His wife?”

“She died a couple of years ago.”

“Now, when Vera Martel came up to Redding,” Mason said, “she had business with Mr. Monroe. Monroe sent his daughter down to pick Vera up— Now, do you have any inkling as to what the business could have been?”

“No, sir, I don’t. I do know that Mr. Monroe must have been expecting this Martel woman. He made the drive down from Dunsmuir, went directly to his house, stayed there until after Miss Martel had departed and then had his daughter take Miss Martel to the hotel. Mr. Monroe left the next morning.”

“What are his initials?” Mason asked.

“G. W.,” Hancock said. “Stands for George Washington.”

“What about the daughter? How old?”

“Right around twenty.”

“Good-looking?”

“Beautiful.”

“Ever been in any trouble?”

“Not that anyone knows about. She’s a wonderful girl. She’s engaged to be married.”

“Oh-oh,” Mason said. “When’s the wedding?”

“Next month.”

“What’s the man’s name?”

“Harvey C. Kimberly.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing. He’s in New York, I believe. He’s from Phoenix, Arizona. His family is very wealthy. There’s quite a background of yachts and all that. But I guess the young fellow is all right. He’s a bit older than she is — twenty-five, I believe.”

Mason said, “All right. Dig up everything you can find in the line of newspaper publicity. There must have been quite a bit of it.”

“Heavens yes, there was lots of publicity.”

“Photographs of the prospective bride and groom and the family?”

“That’s right.”

“You can put your hand on pictures of G. W. Monroe?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How long will it take?”

“Not very long.”

“When can you get a plane out of there?”

“Well, let’s see. Tomorrow morning...”

“Forget it,” Mason said. “Round up all of the pictures you can get. Get all of the newspaper stories. Find out everything you can, and then charter a plane about two or three o’clock in the morning that will get you down to Sacramento so you can pick up the first airliner from Sacramento in here. If you can’t pick up a regular airliner, charter planes to get here. I want you to meet me here in court at ten o’clock in the morning. Drake will give you detailed instructions. Don’t leave Redding until the last minute. Put in all the time you can scouting around up there and getting every bit of information and gossip you can pick up. I’ll be seeing you at ten o’clock.”

The lawyer hung up the telephone, turned to regard Della Street with thoughtful but unseeing eyes.

After a moment, she shifted her position and said, “Well?”

Suddenly Mason grinned. “Get Paul Drake on the phone,” he said. “There’s a rich young man, Harvey C. Kimberly, from Phoenix, Arizona; a background of wealth, yachts, polo ponies and what-not, but with it all he’s supposed to be a good Joe who is probably trying to fit himself to carry on in the footsteps of an illustrious father and manage a family business which probably runs into the millions.

“Tell Paul I want everything we can get on Harvey C. Kimberly and I want it by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I want—”

Suddenly Mason ceased speaking. His eyes again showed the extent of his concentration. After a few moments, Della Street asked, “Anything else?”

Mason shook his head and said, “I’m toying with an idea, Della. It’s the damnedest idea anyone ever had, but it accounts for the ten thousand dollars.”

Word had been flashed around the courthouse and the courtroom was jammed as Judge Alvord took the bench.

“We’ll resume the hearing of the Case of the People versus Gilman,” he said. “I may state to counsel that I am advised that the witness, Hartley Elliott, wishes to purge himself of contempt and is now willing to come forward.

“The Court will, therefore, direct that proceedings be interrupted for Mr. Elliott to again take the stand and he will then be given an opportunity to purge himself of the contempt.”

Elliott emerged from the witness room.

Mason turned to Paul Drake. “Where the devil is Hancock?”

“The plane was late getting in,” Drake said. “There’s fog over the airport and they’re having trouble with landings.”

“Hang it!” Mason said. “He should have chartered a private plane and—”

“He’d have been in worse trouble on a private plane,” Drake said. “The field is pretty well socked in. But they’re bringing the planes in. Hancock was due in at eight thirty this morning. He probably has landed and is on his way to the courthouse now.”

“Find out,” Mason said. “Get someone to call the airport. See what’s happened to his flight. I may have to ask for a continuance.”

Hartley Elliott seated himself on the witness stand.

“Young man,” Judge Alvord said, “I understand that you have decided to subject yourself to the orders of the Court in order to purge yourself of contempt.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” Judge Alvord said, “the district attorney will resume questioning this witness. If the witness answers all questions fairly and willingly the witness will be deemed to have purged himself of the contempt and the sentence will be revoked. Proceed, Mr. District Attorney.”

Hamilton Burger, his face indicating triumphant pleasure, said, “Mr. Elliott, I am going to ask you when you first saw Glamis Barlow on the morning of the thirteenth. Understand now, I am asking you when you first saw her.”

“I didn’t leave her until after midnight,” Elliott said

“Very well. I will amend the question. After you had retired on the morning of the thirteenth, when was the next time you saw Glamis Barlow?”

“It was at eight twenty-five.”

“You’re certain of the time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where were you at that time?”

“I was standing at the window of the bedroom I occupied in the Gilman house at 6231 Vauxman Avenue.”

“And you saw Miss Barlow?”

“Yes.”

“Where was she when you saw her?”

“She was emerging from the door of the workshop.”

“Now, so there can be no misunderstanding as to what you mean by workshop, I am asking you to advance to the blackboard and point out the spot you mean on the diagram.”

The witness did so.

Hamilton Burger said, “For the sake of the record, let it be shown that the witness has pointed to the rectangle marked ‘Workshop’ on the diagram, People’s Exhibit B. That is correct, is it, Mr. Elliott?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now then, what did you see her do?”

Elliott hesitated perceptibly, then said, “She emerged from the door. She looked to right and left, then pulled the door shut, started walking, and then she ran around the house.”

“Around the house? What do you mean?”

“She went in a southerly direction and I lost sight of her as she turned the corner.”

“When did you next see her?” Hamilton Burger asked.

“About ten minutes later.”

“And where did you see her?”

“I heard her voice in the corridor. I opened my bedroom door a crack and I saw her standing there garbed in an exceedingly revealing night garment. She was two thirds facing me and talking with Muriell. I felt that it would be embarrassing...”