Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Crooked Candle

“This time,” Mason said, “you were too smart.”

For a moment there was antagonism in the little deep set eyes, then Palermo was once more vociferously friendly. “Look, Mist’ Mason, you know what happen? Day before yesterday a man comes to my place — he’s got big car like yours. He says, ‘Palermo, how much money Mr. Milfield he going to give you for property?’ ”

“I say, ‘Why you want to know?’ He say, ‘Because may be I give you more.’ ”

“ ‘All right,’ I tell him. I say, ‘I make a contract — one price in the contract. But Milfield, he gives me money for cash. I put in my pocket. That money, nothing said about in the contract.’ ”

“Did you tell him how much that money was?” Mason asked.

“Sure I tell him. He’s one thousand dollars — one thousand dollars for cash. But the contract, he don’t say nothing about the one thousand dollars in cash. Then Milfield shows that contract to other men got the property around here and makes look all right, see?”

Mason nodded.

“All right, this man he says, ‘Look, maybe I can get you five thousand dollars for your property.’ — You get that? Five thousand dollars! Jiz’ whata break! Already I’ve signed my name on contract. But I don’t think contract he’s good.”

“Why not?” Mason asked.

“Is no witness.”

“But you signed your name?”

“Sure I sign my name — what the hell, why not sign my name? I get one thousand dollars cash money when I sign my name — why not?”

“Then as I get it,” Mason said, “you want me to file suit against you so it will be determined that you have no title?”

The little, eyes sparkled with appreciation. “That’s right.”

“And have you put off the property?”

The head nodded vigorously.

“And then,” Mason asked, “what do we do?”

“Jiz’! what do we do? Then I can’t sell to Milfield because I got no title, see? He don’t get back no one thousand dollars because no witness. I say by Gar, he never pay no thousand dollars. Only price he to pay is on contract and no witness. All right. You get property. I not got the property. Then I can’t, sell. Then contract he’s no good because I got no property. You got the property. You sell this man for five thousand dollars. You take one half for you, one-half for me. We all make money, No?”

Palermo was peering anxiously at Mason, trying to see how the lawyer would react to his proposition.

Mason said, “I don’t think my client would be interested. What was the name of this man who was out here?”

“By Gar, he don’t want tell me any name. He says his name come later. But I’m smart. When he’s not look, I write down license of his automobile — big automobile like yours. Fine car. I get license number. What the hell you care what man tells you about his name when you got license number, huh?”

“This was Friday?” Mason asked.

“Friday, yes.”

“What time?”

“In afternoon.”

“What time in the afternoon?”

“I don’t know. I don’t carry no watch. Just a little in afternoon. You see that tree? The shadow that tree when this man comes, is right here.”

Palermo walked rapidly over to a point some forty feet south of the trunk of a live oak tree. He dug with his heel into the ground, leaving a little furrow of turned up soil. “Right here,” he said. “The shadow is right here.”

Mason noticed the tree and the angle of the sun and nodded. “And you have the license number of his car?”

“Sure I get his number. I get pencil and write down number of automobile. I’m smart man myself. You smart lawyer. I am smart sheep man. You get that property. You sell it quick for five thousand dollars. We split fifty-fifty.”

“And,” Mason asked, flashing a quick glance at Della Street, “do we also split the thousand dollars you got in cash from Milfield?”

Palermo drew back. “Say! What the hell you talk about? I never got it. Is no witness.”

Mason laughed.

Palermo pushed stubby fingers down into his watch pocket, pulled out a folded bit of paper. On it had been scrawled the rambling figures so characteristic of the writing of a man who is all but illiterate. He read out the license number, 8P3035.

Mason smiled, shook his head. “I’m not here to talk about your property claim, Palermo. I want you to see a lawyer about that. I came to ask you about what happened Saturday morning.”

The little suspicious eyes narrowed. “Saturday morning. Is nothing. I go aboard yacht to see Milfield. Is dead. That’s all.”

“How did you know that Milfield was to be aboard that yacht?”

“Because I know he’s there.”

“How did you know he’s there?”

“Because he tell me is going to be there.”

“You telephoned Milfield!”

“That’s right.”

“Did you tell him about this other man having been to see you?”

“Sure I tell him.”

“And what did Milfield say?”

“Milfield he say to come see him tomorrow on yacht. Is all excited quick.”

“Look here,” Mason said. “If you were to meet Milfield Saturday morning on that yacht, you must have had some sort of a deal fixed up.”

Palermo threw out his hands in a little gesture of disclaimer. “What the hell? You can’t get money from man who is dead. I know that. No writing, is no good. Lawyer tell my brother all about that.”

“So you did have some agreement with Milfield?” Mason asked. “Some understanding you’d reached over the telephone, something that would have worked out all right if Milfield had lived?”

“Is no witness,” Palermo said doggedly.

“All right, you went out to the yacht. What did you find?”

“I find yacht all right. I’ve got the name from that yacht written down on piece of paper, see? I scull out, I find the yacht. All right, I go around in boat. Me, I am pretty good boatman. I look at that yacht quick. I see is no way to get ashore from that yacht.”

“What do you mean?”

“No boat. No skiff. Just yacht. How you going to get to shore from yacht with no boat, huh? All right, to myself, I say ‘Little boat is gone. That means men aboard yacht are gone. That means Frank Palermo he come all the way for nothing.’ Me, I am sore. I yelled. Nobody answer. All right, I get aboard.”

“The yacht was at anchor?” Mason asked.

Palermo laughed. “The yacht she is stuck in the mud. Can’t go no place when yacht stuck in mud.”

“But there was water all around it?”

“Oh, sure. Water, but not enough.”

“You are in your own boat?”

“Sure, in my own boat. Right there is boat, all folded up. I take hunters out on lake in that boat. You think I am going to pay rent for boat when already I have boat? What the hell? You think I am crazy, me, Frank Palermo?”

“I was just wondering about the boat,” Mason explained.

“All right. Now you know. Is my own boat.”

“And what did you do?”

“I go down the stairs.”

“Was the hatch pushed back?”

“Hatch is pushed back.”

“And what did you find?”

“First I don’t find nothing. Then I look around, I see dead man. Is Milfield. Idea comes to my mind like one flash. ‘All right, Milfield is dead, so then is no witness. Contract is no good without witness.’ ”

“Where was Milfield lying?”

“Over against the side of cabin.”

“Against the low side?”

“Sure.”

“The yacht was tilted over?”

“Sure, is low tide.”

“What did you do?”

“Get out fast.”

“Did you touch anything?”

Palermo grinned. “Only my feet. I am not damn fool.”

“Perhaps you touched the top of the hatch when you went down into the cabin.”