Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lonely Heiress

“But you had this letter when I telephoned you?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you do after I telephoned you?”

“I thought things over for a while. Then I decided to ring Rose up. I got her on the phone and told her I wanted to talk with her. I was planning to tell her over the phone about Mrs. Caddo, but her manner wasn’t at all like that letter. She had been crying and she said, ‘Marilyn dear, please come over here right away. Please!’ ”

“What did you do?”

“I jumped in my car and came over here.”

“And what happened then?”

“Rose said, ‘Marilyn, I want to talk with you but I want to get my nerves quieted first. Will you please drive out to the tennis courts and play a couple of sets of tennis, and then we’ll talk.’ Well, I told her I would, but that I’d have to go back to my apartment and get my tennis things and that I thought I’d bring my playsuit along and change here.”

“Then what happened?”

“She gave me a key and told me I should walk right in when I returned. She said she had been giving me a raw deal, but things were going to be different now.”

“Well, I went out, drove to my apartment, stopping to do my grocery shopping on the way, got my tennis things and drove back here. When I got here I found the door downstairs was open an inch or two so I didn’t need the key. I came up here — and found this. I called you almost at once.”

“Did you drive directly here from your apartment?”

“No. I went to my bank first.”

“Why did you do that?”

She said, “I didn’t know just what was coming, Mr. Mason. I suppose I was foolish, but I thought that if Rose was trying to hold out for a little money, I might — well, I might give her some.

“You know, Mr. Endicott gave mother some jewelry before his death. Most of it was stuff that had been in the family for a while, but some of them were more modern pieces. Mother had sold a few of those pieces to get a little money to carry on with, and I’d inherited that money when she died. It was in a joint account, but there isn’t much left. I was going to need financial help if I did anything with Rose. I went to the bank and asked them if I could get a little money if I needed it.”

“What did the bank tell you?”

“They were very nice.”

“You didn’t tell them what you wanted the money for?”

“Not in so many words. I told them I had some expenses coming up in connection with this will contest and in trying to protect my inheritance. The bank explained to me that they couldn’t underwrite my will contest, that it couldn’t gamble on the outcome of that; but that within reasonable limits they would let me have some money, with the understanding that if the will contest didn’t come out right, I’d turn the jewelry over to them as a pledge.”

“They didn’t ask for jewelry in advance?”

“No.”

“How much jewelry is there?”

“The bank says it’s worth easily seventy-five thousand dollars — the amount that’s left.”

“How much did your mother sell?”

“Not much. Five or six thousand dollars’ worth.”

“What time did you talk with Rose Keeling on the phone?”

“About eleven-ten.”

“And then you came here?”

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“Oh, I’d say eleven-twenty-five or so.”

“What time did you get back here?”

“Just about four or five minutes before I telephoned you.”

“And what did you find?”

“As I said, the door was partly open. I pushed it the rest of the way open, walked in, closed the door and found things just as they are now.”

“Did you look around any?”

“Just as far as the bedroom. I called out, ‘Yoo-hoo, Rose,’ and walked back to the bedroom and... you know what I saw. I was sick at my stomach. I backed out and — well, I got to the telephone and called you.”

Mason said, “Wait here. Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. Keep your gloves on. I’m going to take a look.”

“Want me?” Della Street asked.

Mason shook his head and said, “It’s pretty sticky, Della. Evidently it was done with a knife. You sit here. Be careful not to touch anything and keep an eye on Marilyn. See that she doesn’t go to pieces.”

Marilyn said, “I’ll be all right now, Mr. Mason.”

Mason retraced his steps down the corridor into the bedroom, taking care not to touch anything, and detouring the pool of crimson which was still welling out from the stark, white body which lay on the floor, partially on its side, the arms flung outward, as though in that last plunge Rose Keeling had tried to break the force of the fall as she hit the floor.

There were two suitcases which had been packed with great care. They were open on the floor near the dresser. Some folded clothes had been placed on top of the dresser. On the bed lingerie and stockings were neatly laid out. On the floor, beneath the bed, rumpled into a ball, was a street dress, the bottom part of the garment now soaked with blood.

Between the figure on the floor and the bathroom was a bath towel which had spots of blood on it. It had been dropped to the floor directly in front of the bathroom door.

Mason skirted the red pool to look into the bathroom.

The air was still steamy and moist. Paths of water-trickles were still evident on the mirror where moisture had condensed and run down the glass.

The bathroom itself contained a medicine chest, clothes hamper, mirror, tooth-brush rack and the conventional bathroom fixtures. There was not so much as a drop of blood in the bathroom.

Mason turned back to inspect the bedroom once more. A pair of tennis shoes, a tennis racket still in a press, and a can containing three tennis balls were near the closet door. The tennis racket was propped against the wall. The can of tennis balls lay crosswise on the tennis shoes.

Flecks of white caught Mason’s eye and he leaned over to inspect those flecks more closely.

They seemed to be ashes which had been dropped from a cigar and had spread out in a little cluster of light ash. Just inside the bedroom door was a place where a cigarette, about one-third smoked, had been dropped to the floor and had gradually burnt itself out, leaving a long streak of ash and a charred place on the floor.

Mason tiptoed back from the bedroom, looked out into the kitchen and into a dining room. Through that an open door led into a bedroom and another bathroom. This bedroom evidently had not been occupied. There was a disused air to the place, and the white counterpane on the bed was lightly dust-covered.

Mason returned to the living room.

Della Street glanced up quickly, then swung her eyes significantly toward Marilyn Marlow.

Marilyn Marlow was sitting with her gloved hands folded on her lap. Her white face emphasized the patches of orange rouge which were plainly visible against the pallor of her skin.

Mason said quietly, “Marilyn, are you telling me the truth?”

“Yes.”

“The whole truth?”

“Yes.”

“Rose Keeling told you she wanted to play tennis?”

“Yes.”

“She’s quite a tennis player?”

“Yes.”

“This is rather a big place for one woman.”

“She had a friend staying with her up until about two weeks ago. They shared the expense.”

“Even so, it’s a pretty big place.”

“Rose had a lease on it She’s had it for some time. It’s a long-term lease. She got it at a low rental. She can take some woman in with her and charge her almost enough to pay for the whole flat. I know that.”

“She rents it furnished?”

“Yes.”

“She gave you a key to get in with?”

“Yes.”

“You used it?”