Erle Gardner - The Case of the Postponed Murder

“Then what?” Mason asked.

“I looked up and could see someone moving. I heard steps on the deck. I ran back to the door that goes to the after cabin. I called out to Penn to ask if he was hurt. He didn’t answer. I tried to open the door. He must have been lying against it. I couldn’t push it open.”

“It opened into the after cabin?”

“That’s right.”

“Then what?” Mason asked.

“Then I ran up on deck.”

“Where did you meet Anders?”

“On the deck,” she said, shifting her eyes quickly.

Mason scowled and glanced at Anders.

Anders said, “Here, let me tell this, Mae.”

“By all means,” Mason said.

“I distrusted this man, Wentworth. I thought he might know where Mae was or that Mae might try to get in touch with him. I went down to the Yacht Club where he keeps his boat.”

“So you found her?”

“Yes. About nine thirty she drove up to the Yacht Club.”

“What happened?” Mason asked.

“She left the car and went aboard, and I... well, I...”

“Go ahead,” Mason said impatiently. “What did you do?”

“I lost my nerve,” Anders admitted. “I thought she’d gone aboard voluntarily and... and that perhaps she’d thank me to keep out of her business.”

“A wise assumption,” Mason said. “Let’s have the rest of it.”

“Well, I sat there, feeling like a heel, lower than a snake’s belly, and—”

“For the love of Mike,” Mason interrupted. “I know how you felt. I know the thoughts that were going through your mind. I want facts! We may have to move fast. What happened? Give it to me straight from the shoulder and fast.”

“I heard Mae scream,” Anders said. “I jumped out of the car and started toward the yacht. She screamed again. The yacht was tied to a float. There’s a walk running the length of the float, and then a lot of U shaped stalls...”

“I know all about that,” Mason said. “You don’t need to go into those details.”

“No, but it’s important,” Anders insisted. “You see, Mr. Mason, my eyes were blinded by watching the lights on the yacht, and I was running fast—”

“—and he fell in,” Mae Farr interposed.

“I fell in,” Anders said.

Mason looked from one to the other and said grimly, “The hell you did.”

“That’s right. I fell in, and it must have been just at that moment when the shot was fired. You see, I didn’t know anything about it. It happened while I was in the water.”

“You swim?” Mason asked.

“Oh yes. I’m a good swimmer.”

“A champion swimmer,” Mae Farr amended.

“Well, I’ve won a few events, no big competition, just interscholastic stuff.”

Mason looked at his dry clothes and said, “What happened to your clothes?”

“I changed them,” Anders said, “while Mae was telephoning your secretary.”

“Where?”

“In the car.”

“Carried an extra suit with you in the car?” Mason inquired skeptically.

Anders said, “I was — wearing overalls.”

“Don’t you see?” Mae Farr explained. “He was trying to shadow Penn, and he thought he needed a disguise. Penn had already seen him, you know. So Hal put on some overalls and one of those round caps that workmen wear, and—”

“And your other clothes were in the car?” Mason interrupted.

Anders nodded.

“Did you have a gun in that car?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is it now?”

“I— We threw it away.”

“Where?”

“Driving back from the Yacht Club.”

“When?”

“About thirty or forty minutes ago.”

Mason shifted his eyes to Mae Farr. “You called the police?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because no one except Hal knew I was aboard the yacht, and... well, finding Hal there with his clothes all wet, it would have been impossible.”

“Why did you go aboard the yacht?” Mason asked.

“I wanted to try and make Penn listen to reason.”

“You’d tried before, hadn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Get anywhere?”

“No — but you don’t understand.”

Mason said, “All right then. Go ahead and make me understand.”

“Penn,” she said, “wanted to... Well, he wanted me.”

“I gathered as much,” Mason said.

“But he was willing to do anything. You know, he wanted to marry me.”

“And you said ‘no’?”

She nodded.

“Ever say ‘yes’?” Mason asked.

“No,” she said, with an indignant shake of her head.

Mason said, “Well, you’ve made a sweet mess of it now.”

“I know,” she said, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“Cut it,” Mason ordered sternly. “Don’t start bawling.”

“I’m not going to,” she said. “I don’t cry. Tears are a confession of weakness, and I hate weakness. I hate it.”

“That vehemently?” Mason asked.

“A lot more than that.”

Mason noticed that Anders seemed distinctly uncomfortable.

“Who knew you were going down to the yacht to see Wentworth?” Mason asked.

“No one.”

“No one at all?”

“No.”

“Where’s your car?”

Sudden dismay showed in Mae’s eyes. “My God,” she said, “we left mine down there. Hal rushed me over to his car and—”

“Your car or one you’d rented?” Mason asked.

“One I’d rented from a drive yourself agency,” Anders said.

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “All right,” he said, “let’s get going. We drive back to that Yacht Club. You go aboard the yacht. Disarray your clothes the way they were during your struggle... How was this struggle? Any bruises?”

“Good Lord, there should be. We fought enough.”

“Let’s take a look,” Mason said.

She hesitated for a moment, glanced at Anders.

Mason said, “Forget it. This is no time to be coy. Go in the bathroom if you have to, but I want to see those bruises.”

Mae took hold of her skirt on the left side and pulled it up midway on her thigh. “There’s one,” she said.

Mason nodded. “Any more?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go in the bathroom with her,” Mason said to Della Street. “Take a good look. I want to be damn certain she has bruises.”

As the girls went into the bathroom, Mason stared at Harold Anders and said, “Your story stinks.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It stinks just the same,” Mason said. “What are you holding back?”

Anders said, “Mae thinks I’m weak. She hates me for it.”

“Are you?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“What makes her think you’re weak?”

“Because I hung around there carrying a gun. She said a real man would have stepped out of the car and grabbed her before she’d gone aboard the yacht, or followed her aboard the yacht, or gone aboard and given Wentworth a damn good beating.”

Mason said moodily, “She may be right at that.”

The bathroom door opened. Mason had a glimpse of Mae Farr in flesh coloured underwear struggling back into her dress. Through the crack in the door, she saw Mason’s eyes on her and said, “Do you want to look, Mr. Mason?”

Mason glanced at Della Street. “Any luck?” he asked.

“Lots,” she said. “She’s been mauled all right.”

“No,” Mason said to Mae Farr. “Get your dress on.”

Della Street closed the bathroom door. Mason started pacing the floor. When Mae Farr emerged from the bathroom, Mason said, in a low voice, “All right, you two. Anders, you go to your hotel, have a chat with the night clerk, get him to notice the time. Tell him you can’t sleep. Stick around the lobby. Mae, you’re going back down to that Yacht Club with me. You’re going aboard the yacht. After looking the situation over to make damn certain there’s nothing that’s going to prove you a liar, you start screaming for help. You’ll run up on deck with your clothes disarrayed. Scream and keep on screaming until someone notices you. Then you tell your story.”