Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Careless Kitten

“That’s right.”

The man jerked his thumb down the corridor, and said, “Back down the elevator, boys. I’m sorry, but it’s no go.”

Mason, raising his voice, said, “Perhaps this man could do you some good if he could talk with Mrs. Shore. He’s her gardener. I think Lieutenant Tragg would like to see him, too.”

The officer nodded to his companion as his hand clapped down on Mason’s shoulder. The other officer hooked his fingers in the back of Lunk’s collar. “Come on now, boys. On your way, and don’t act rough about it.”

Mason said, “I think we’re really entitled to see her.”

“Got a pass?” the officer asked.

The nurse came efficiently forward on rubber heels. “There are other patients on this floor, and I’m responsible for them. I want no noise, no argument, and no disturbance.”

One of the officers rang for the elevator. “There won’t be any disturbance, Miss,” he said. “These men are going out . That’s all.”

The elevator came to a stop. The door slid open. Propelled by insistent pressure from behind, Mason and Lunk entered the elevator.

“And don’t try comin’ back without a pass,” the officer called as the elevator doors clanged shut.

Lunk started to say something as they walked down the corridor, after the elevator had left them at the street level, but Mason motioned him to silence. Nor did the lawyer speak until they were out on the sidewalk.

Della Street, sitting in the parked car, opened the door.

“Things as you expected to find them?” she asked Mason anxiously.

Mason was smiling. “Just exactly. Now then, we’ll go some place where we can talk.”

Lunk said doggedly, “I’ve got to reach Mrs. Shore. I don’t want to talk to nobody else.”

“I know,” Mason said. “We’ll see if we can’t work out some plan of action.”

Lunk said, “Listen, I ain’t got all night to work on this thing. It’s hot. It’s got to be handled right now. I’ve simply got to see her.”

Mason turned the car into a broad street which, at this hour of the night, showed no traffic. Abruptly, he swung into the curb, parked the car, switched off the headlights, and the ignition, turned to Lunk, and said sharply, “How do you know Franklin Shore is alive?”

Lunk started as though Mason had jabbed him with a pin.

“Come on,” Mason said. “Speak up.”

“What makes you think I know any such thing?”

“Because you gave yourself away. Remember you said that up until a short time ago, all the talking in the world wouldn’t have convinced you that Komo hadn’t been mixed up in Franklin Shore’s disappearance. You’ve held that belief for several years. You’ve held it so deeply and sincerely that it’s become a fixed obsession with you. Now then, there’s only one thing that could have changed your mind so suddenly. You’ve seen or heard from Franklin Shore. ”

Lunk stiffened for a moment as though preparing to deny the statement; then settled back in the seat as the resistance oozed out of him.

“All right,” he admitted, “I’ve seen him.”

“Where is he?” Mason asked.

“He’s at my place.”

“He came there shortly before you took the street car to go to see Mrs. Shore?”

“That’s right.”

“And what did he want?”

“He wanted me to do something for him. I can’t tell you what it was.”

Mason said, “Wanted you to go to Mrs. Shore and find out if she’d take him back, or something of that sort.”

Lunk hesitated a moment, then said, “I ain’t goin’ to tell you what he told me. I promised him I wouldn’t ever tell that to any living man.”

Mason asked, “How long was it after Franklin Shore came to your house that you went out to take the street car?”

“Quite a little while.”

“Why the delay?”

Lunk hesitated, then said, “There wasn’t any delay.”

Mason glanced at Della Street, then asked Lunk, “Had you gone to bed when Franklin Shore called on you?”

“Nope. I was listening to a news broadcast when he knocked at the door. I like to fell over dead when I seen who it was.”

“You recognized him without any difficulty?”

“Yeah. Sure. He hadn’t changed so much — not near as much as she has. Looks about like he did the day he left.”

Mason glanced significantly at Della Street and said, “There’s no reason why you should stay up any longer, Della. I’ll take you down the street a few blocks to a taxi stand. You can take a taxi home.”

She said, “You’re not keeping me up. I wouldn’t miss this for worlds. I...”

“You need some sleep, my dear,” Mason interrupted solicitously. “Remember, you have to be at the office promptly at nine, and it will take you a long time to get home.”

“Oh! I see — I guess so.”

Mason switched on the ignition, drove rapidly to a nearby hotel where a taxi was parked at the curb. Della Street jumped out with a quick “Good night. See you in the morning, Chief,” and walked across to the taxicab.

Mason drove down the street for a couple of blocks, then parked the car again.

“We’d better get this thing straight, Lunk,” he said. “You say Franklin Shore knocked at your door?”

The gardener was sullen and suspicious. “ I’ve got it all straight. Sure he knocked. The doorbell wasn’t working.”

Mason shook his head. “I’m not certain that you did right. It might make trouble for you with Mrs. Shore — trying to intercede on behalf of her husband.”

Lunk said, “I know what I’m doin’.”

“You owe Franklin Shore a debt of gratitude,” Mason went on. “You want to do everything you can to help him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you know Mrs. Shore hates him, don’t you?”

“No.”

Mason said, “You must have talked with Franklin Shore for a couple of hours before you started out to see Mrs. Shore.”

“Not that long.”

“An hour, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

“How did he seem mentally?” Mason asked abruptly.

“How do you mean?”

“Was his mind keen?”

“Oh, sure. He’s smart as a steel trap — remembers things I’ve even forgotten. Asked about some poinsettia plants I’d put out just before he left. Damned if I hadn’t clean forgotten about ’em until he asked. They didn’t do so good and the old lady had ’em pulled up. We got some rose bushes in there now.”

“Then he doesn’t seem to have aged much?”

“No. He’s older; but he’s pretty much the same.”

Mason said, “Why don’t you tell me the truth, Lunk?”

“What are you getting at?”

Mason said, “Franklin B. Shore was a banker, a keen-minded businessman. From all I can learn, he was clearheaded and quick thinking. A man of that type wouldn’t have come to you to ask you to intercede with Mrs. Shore on his behalf.”

Lunk remained sullenly silent.

Mason said, “It’s a lot more likely that he’d have gone to your place knowing that you were under a debt of gratitude to him, looking for a place to spend the night where no one would be apt to look for him. You pretended you were going to give him a place to hide out, and then, after he’d gone to bed and to sleep, sneaked quietly out in an attempt to go and tell Mrs. Shore where he was.”

Lunk clamped his lips together in stolid, defiant silence.

“You may as well tell the truth,” Mason said.

Lunk shook his head doggedly.

“The Homicide Squad wants to question Franklin Shore. They want to examine him about what happened after he communicated with a man named Henry Leech.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”