Erle Gardner - The Case of the Postponed Murder

“That,” Drake said, “is right.”

“What’ll they do with her?” Mae Farr asked.

Mason said, “Well, that depends. First, they’ll have to catch her, which I don’t think will be easy. Then, they’ll have to convict her, and that’s going to be quite a job. That photograph Eversel took will come pretty close to getting her an acquittal if she testifies that Wentworth made the same sort of attack on her that he made on you.”

“Planting that gun will look like the devil as far as her case is concerned,” Drake said.

Mason grinned and said, “In one way, yes, but — oh come on, Paul, you can’t convict a woman with a figure like hers of anything worse than manslaughter.”

“How about Eversel?” Drake asked.

“He shook hands and made up,” Mason said. “He was so darned afraid I was going to accuse him of the murder and make it stick that the real solution came as a great relief to him. He’d been scared stiff. Moreover, when he realized that because of my activities, an innocent woman had been liberated, he began to think I wasn’t such a bad egg after all. In fact, Della, he’s invited us down for dinner next week.”

“Are we going?” she asked.

“Why not?” Mason asked. “In the meantime, let’s climb in the car and go places.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Oh, take a trip,” Mason said. “Why not drive up toward North Mesa and look that country over?”

“Would you risk it?” Mae Farr asked.

“Risk what?”

“You’ll probably come to blows with Hal’s family lawyer.”

“Fiddlesticks,” Mason said. “I have no feelings like that. Actually the man was right.”

“Well,” she said, “I’m going that way myself this afternoon.”

“You are? ” Della asked in surprise.

She nodded.

Mason said, “Well, well, well! How did that happen?”

She flushed and said spiritedly, “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, isn’t it? Maybe I’ve changed mine about Hal.”

Mason said, “He does seem to have developed a lot of independence lately.”

Mae Farr laughed nervously. “Yes. He’s picked up quite a few ideas of his own. I think this murder case may have been a good thing — for him. I wish you would come and have dinner with us tomorrow night, Mr. Mason. It’s going to be a special occasion.”

Mason looked at Mae Farr with a twinkle in his eyes. “A sort of celebration?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m going to tell Hal I’ll marry him.”

“Good girl!” Mason said, then he turned to Della Street. “How about it, Della?”

“Leaving it up to me, Chief?”

He nodded.

“Let’s go to North Mesa,” she said, “if you really want us, Miss Farr.”

“Oh, but I really do,” Mae Farr said eagerly.

Paul Drake got to his feet, fed a stick of gum into his mouth, and said, “Well, nice to have known you.”

“Aren’t you coming, too, Mr. Drake?” Mae Farr asked.

“Not me,” Drake said. “When wedding bells ring the enthusiasm is apt to be contagious. What would a detective do with a wife?”

“Wrong again,” Mason said cheerfully. “What would a wife do with a detective?”

Drake paused in the outer doorway for a parting shot. “Particularly a detective who works for a lawyer who keeps him up all night, running around committing felonies,” he said, and punctuated his remark by banging the door shut behind him.