Erle Gardner - The Case of the Drowning Duck

“When?”

“Quite a while ago. But it didn’t really hit me until someone employed a detective who started investigating the case.”

“Who employed him?”

“I don’t know. I thought it was Sarah at first. It was someone living in El Templo. I couldn’t find out who.”

“Why did you come to me?”

“Because I think you know who was back of it all and why.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because I’ve located Marvin Adams. I find that he’s unofficially engaged to the Witherspoon girl and that you were seen out at Witherspoon’s house.”

“How did you know that?” Mason asked.

“By accident. To tell you the truth, Mr. Mason, I was in El Templo because I thought the detective agency was located there. This detective was telephoning reports to El Templo. I found that out through the girl at the switchboard in the Winterburg City Hotel. They were station-to-station calls. I didn’t get the number.”

“And how did you find out about me?”

She said, “By a chance remark that was dropped by Mrs. Burr.”

“Mrs. Burr?” Mason asked.

“Don’t be so mysterious. You’ve met her out there at Witherspoon’s.”

“And you know her?” Mason asked.

“Yes. I’ve known her for years.”

“Where did you meet her?”

“In Winterburg City.”

“Indeed?”

“She used to live there.”

Mason picked up a pencil from his desk, slid his thumb and forefinger up and down the polished sides, slowly and thoughtfully. “That, ” he said, “is very interesting. She must have been rather a little girl at the time of the murder.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Wasn’t she?”

Mrs. Dangerfield averted her eyes and frowned as she made an effort at concentration. “No,” she said, “she wasn’t. She was at least seventeen or eighteen — perhaps nineteen. How old do you think she is now, Mr. Mason?”

Mason said, “I’m afraid I’m not much of a judge of ages. I thought she was in the late twenties or early thirties — and I would have said that you couldn’t possibly have been more than thirty-eight or thirty-nine.”

“Flatterer!”

“No, I really mean it,” Mason said. “I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m really interested in seeing how a woman can continue to be young, regardless of the actual number of birthdays she may have had.”

She said, “I’m not going to tell you how old I am, but Diana Burr is — let me see — she was... yes, she’s between thirty-eight and thirty-nine.”

“And you recognized her after all these years?” Mason asked.

“What do you mean, after all these years?”

“When did you see her last?”

“Oh, about three years ago.”

“Then you know her husband?”

Mrs. Dangerfield shook her head. “I don’t think so. Diana’s name originally was Diana Perkins. She was quite a problem to her mother. Mrs. Perkins used to talk with me. They lived in our block. Then Diana ran away with a married man. She came back after four or five years, and claimed the man had divorced his wife and married her.”

“What did the wife have to say about it?”

“Oh, she’d left. People had lost track of her. Perhaps Diana was telling the truth. Perhaps not. Well then, Diana left town again for a while and showed up with a brand-new husband.”

“Burr?” Mason asked.

“No,” she said, smiling. “Not Burr. Diana, I am afraid, is inclined to trade the old ones in on the new models as fast as they come out. Let’s see. What was her husband’s name? Radcliff, I think it was, but I’m not certain about that. I think he divorced her. She was back in Winterburg City for a little while, and then left for California. She married Mr. Burr in California.”

“So you met her on the street and talked with her?”

“Yes.”

“Did she mention anything about that old murder case?”

“No. She was very tactful.”

“Does she know that Marvin Adams is the son of the man who was hanged for murder?”

“I’m almost certain she doesn’t. At least, she didn’t say anything about it. Of course, Sarah died before Mrs. Burr came to El Templo. She’s only been there two or three weeks. I don’t think the name Adams meant a thing to her.”

“And you didn’t tell her?”

“No, of course not.”

“All right,” Mason said, “that explains how you found out about me. Now go ahead and tell me what you wanted to see me about.”

She said, “I–I wanted to get something off my mind.”

“Wait a minute. One more question. Did you know Milter, the detective who was investigating this thing?”

“I have seen him a couple of times, although he didn’t know it. I never met him, in the sense that you mean. I never actually talked with him.”

“What time did you leave El Templo, Mrs. Dangerfield?”

“Early this morning.”

“Where’s Mr. Dangerfield?”

“He’s staying on in El Templo. I left a note telling him I was going to take the car and be away for the day. He was snoring peacefully when I left. He likes to stay up late at night and sleep late in the morning. I’m just the opposite. I’ve trained myself so I can go to bed and go to sleep. He can come in without disturbing me. Quite frequently I get up in the morning and go out, long before he’s wakened. I like to take walks in the early morning. I find that exercise before breakfast helps a lot.”

Mason leaned back once more in the swivel chair and again closed his eyes as though trying to reconstruct mentally some event from the past. “So you made an investigation to make certain that your husband wasn’t in Reno?”

“My husband. Oh, you mean David. Yes.”

“Who made the investigation?”

“A friend.”

Mason said, “Every time you’ve referred to that investigation, you’ve used the expression ‘a friend.’ Don’t you think that’s rather indefinite? You have never used a pronoun in referring to this friend. Is that because you are afraid to do so?”

“Why, Mr. Mason, what are you getting at? I don’t understand you. Why should I be afraid to use a pronoun?”

“Because it would have had to be either him or her, and that would have indicated the sex of this friend,” Mason said.

“Well, what difference does that make?”

“I was just wondering if this ‘friend’ might not have been your present husband, George L. Dangerfield.”

“Why... why...”

“Was it?” Mason asked.

She said angrily, “You have the most unpleasant manner of trying to...”

“Was it?” Mason repeated.

Abruptly she laughed and said, “Yes. I can realize now, Mr. Mason, how you’ve made such a reputation as a cross-examiner. Perhaps I was trying to cover that up a little bit, because of the fact that it might sound — well, a little — well, a person might have drawn an erroneous conclusion from it.”

“The conclusion would have been erroneous?” Mason asked.

She was in complete possession of her faculties now. She laughed at him and said, “I’ve told you, Mr. Mason, how much I cared about my husband, and how afraid I was that I might lose him. Do you think a woman who felt that way would take chances with some other man?”

“I was merely interested in uncovering something which you seemed to be trying to cover up. Perhaps it’s merely the instinct of a cross-examiner,” Mason said.

She said, “I had known George L. Dangerfield before our marriage. He had been — rather crazy about me; but he hadn’t been in Winterburg City for more than two years prior to the time I wired him. I had only seen him once after my marriage, and that was to tell him definitely and positively that my marriage terminated everything between us.”