Erle Gardner - The Case of the Drowning Duck

“Why?”

“I think you can understand why.”

Mason said, “Probably because your judgment is better than your emotions. You go to your daughter with the story the way you have it now, and she’ll either sympathize with Marvin or become violently partisan, and turn against you. The girl’s in love. You can’t run Marvin down to her unless you have some absolute proof.”

“His father was convicted of murder.”

“I don’t think she’ll care a hoot about that,” Mason said. “She’ll simply take the position that his father was innocent. But what will happen to Marvin when he finds out?”

“I don’t care what happens to him,” Witherspoon said.

“You might feel differently about it if he committed suicide.”

Witherspoon’s face changed expression as he turned that idea over in his mind. Abruptly he said, “I think the only thing to do is make my daughter see him in his true light.”

“When did you see him last?” Mason asked.

“He drove away from here not over half an hour before you came.”

“Where was the duckling?”

“Apparently in the car with him.”

“Does young Adams own this car?” Mason asked, looking at his watch.

“No. It’s one that belongs to a friend of his — a boy who’s attending junior college here. They shouldn’t permit junk like that on the roads. It’s completely disreputable.”

“Does Lois ride with him?”

“Yes. That’s another thing I can’t understand. She seems to think it’s fun. The windshield is cracked. The springs in the seat cushions are broken... Damn it, he’s got her hypnotized!”

“Not hypnotized,” Mason said. “She’s in love. That’s worse — or better.”

Della Street said, “Here’s Paul Drake on the phone.”

Mason scooped the receiver to his ear. “Hello... Hello, Paul. This is Perry. We’re here at Witherspoon’s. What’s new?”

Drake said, “Things are coming along. You’ll probably hear from my operative in El Templo in a few minutes. He called me from one of the stage stops about an hour ago, and said that the blonde had put through a call to Milter. He’s expecting her. We’re still working on that case in the East. I think we’ve found out who Miss X is. That is, we have her name and identity, but haven’t located her as yet. She was a cashier in a sweet shop when the murder was committed. Sure you don’t want me to shut off calls after midnight?”

Mason said, “Call me just as soon as you get information. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Okay, stick around and you’ll be hearing from that El Templo operative.”

“You’re sure about Milter, Paul — that he’s here in El Templo?”

“Positive. We’ve checked on him.”

“Let’s get that address straight. He’s living at eleven sixty-two Cinder Butte Avenue?”

“That’s right. It’s a big frame house that’s been turned into four apartments. Milter has the one in the upper right-hand corner.”

“Okay. Call me if anything turns up.”

Mason hung up, turned to Witherspoon, and said, “Milter’s living here in El Templo, has been for days — and is here now.”

“He hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me. He most certainly hasn’t tried to blackmail me .”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “How about Lois? That kid have any money in her own name?”

“Not until she’s... wait a minute. Yes, she has, too. She’s twenty-one now. Her birthday was a week ago. Yes, she has the money that was left in her mother’s estate.”

“How much?”

“Rather a considerable sum.”

“How much?”

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

“All right,” Mason said grimly, “ that’s your answer.”

“You mean that he’s blackmailing Lois?”

“Yes.”

“But Lois doesn’t know anything about that murder case.”

“The kid’s a damn good little actress,” Mason said. “Don’t you ever kid yourself that a man of Leslie Milter’s caliber is going to pass up a chance of that sort. Come to think of it, he wouldn’t tackle you, except as a last resort, anyway. You’re a tough bird, and you don’t give a damn whether the scandal in connection with that murder case comes out — not until after Marvin Adams becomes your son-in-law; then, and only then, would you pay money to hush it up. Wait a minute. Marvin and your daughter weren’t planning on doing anything sudden, were they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Running away and getting married?”

“She wants to announce her engagement and be married next month. I believe I told you he’s going into the Army when he graduates in June, and...”

“I know,” Mason said, “but next month is three weeks away. If Milter were planning blackmail for next month, he wouldn’t be waiting around here now, where you might run into him on the street. No, that bird has sunk his fangs into someone right now, and is bleeding him white — or getting ready to.”

Witherspoon said angrily, “If Lois is taking the money her mother left her, and paying it to some blackmailer in order to keep the facts about this young cad from...”

“Wait a minute,” Mason interrupted. “You’ve put your finger on something. To keep the facts from being what?”

“Made public,” Witherspoon said.

Mason shook his head. “I don’t think so. She’d pay money to keep you from finding out the facts, but... wait a minute. That must be the angle. Milter must have given her the low-down, without letting her know that you know anything about it. He’s threatening to go to you with the facts, unless she kicks through with some dough to buy his silence.”

“Do you mean she’s paid him money to...”

“Not yet,” Mason said. “He’s still here. Once he gets the dough, he’ll get out. He may be closing the deal but he hasn’t got it completely closed — not yet. I presume there was some legal red tape to unwind before Lois got that inheritance. Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She went out.”

“I want to talk to her just as soon as she comes in.”

Witherspoon said, “If that man tries to blackmail Lois, I’ll...”

Mason interrupted him. “Take a lawyer’s advice, Witherspoon, and quit that habit of mentioning the things you’ll do... It looks as though Milter were the key to the whole business. I’m going to have an interview with Mr. Milter. When I get done with him, he’ll be sneaking out of town with his tail between his legs.”

“I’ll go along with you,” Witherspoon said. “When I think of Lois getting into the clutches of a blackmailer... I’m going to see him.”

“Not with me, you aren’t. There won’t be any witnesses to this interview. You don’t wear kid gloves when you’re dealing with a blackmailer. Della, stay here and hold the fort. If Paul Drake telephones any information, make a note of it.”

“How about that girl from the detective agency?” Della Street asked. “She was on her way down here on the bus, and...”

Mason looked at his watch. “She should have arrived — unless the bus was late. That’s fine! I’ll have a chance to talk to both of them together.”

Witherspoon darted out of the door. “The dogs,” he said. “Wait here a few seconds, until I can get those damn dogs tied up.”

Mason looked at his watch. “That bus should be here by now — won’t that blonde be glad to see me come walking in!”

Mason sent his car skimming along the desert highway. The lights of El Templo showed as a halo beneath steady, unwinking stars. The speedometer needle quivered around the seventy mark.

An irregularity in the road sent the car into a slight sway. Mason straightened it out and slowed his speed. Again a slight dip in the road swung the rear end over. This time, after Mason straightened the car out, he slowed to thirty miles an hour, deliberately twisted the wheel.