Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lonely Heiress

“I’ve heard of you,” Niles said. “Seen you in court several times, but never have had the pleasure of meeting you. How do you do? And may I ask what you’re doing here?"

Mason said, “I am trying to get some information about a matter which is outside the issues of the will contest. I told these people I wanted their lawyer present. I understood you were here.”

“What is the nature of the information you want?” Niles asked, instantly suspicious.

Mason said, “I’m investigating the death of Rose Keeling.”

“The death of Rose Keeling!” Niles echoed in astonishment.

“That’s right.”

“But she’s not dead. She...”

“She is dead,” Mason said. “She was murdered some time around noon today.”

“Good heavens!” Niles said. “This complicates the situation.”

Mason said, “I’m trying to account for her time during the early part of the day. I had reason to believe she might have been in conversation with one of the Endicotts.”

“What caused you to believe that?”

“My detectives tell me there is evidence that Rose Keeling gave one of your clients a check today. I want to know when and what for.”

Niles pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Did you come here to see me?”

“I wanted to ask some questions of your clients. I rang your office. Your secretary said you were here. Naturally I wanted your permission, although I could have secured the information through more orthodox and more disagreeable channels.”

“How?”

“I could have told my friend, Lieutenant Tragg on Homicide, that I thought it would be a good plan to check on the Endicotts. That would have dragged their names into the newspapers and ultimately had a far more disastrous effect on the will contest than an informal chat of this sort.”

“Well, let’s sit down and get this thing straightened out,” Niles said.

Ralph Endicott said, “As far as I’m concerned, I can shout what I have to say from the housetops. I think it would be a good plan to let the newspapers know exactly what happened.”

“Not the newspapers!” Lorraine Parsons said coldly. “The newspapers are vulgar. They are sensational. They cater to the lowest section of humanity and present news with the vulgar sensationalism which appeals to readers of that type.”

Niles said, “I think we’ll excuse you for a few minutes, Mr. Mason. I want to talk with my clients about this. And then if we have any statement to make, we’ll make it formally.”

“Time is short,” Mason reminded him.

“Why are you in such a hurry to get that information?”

“I have reasons.”

“What are they?”

Mason smiled, and shook his head.

“You want us to put our cards on the table while you hold all the aces up your sleeve,” Niles said.

Mason said, with some anger, “Have it your own way. I’ll put in a call for Lieutenant Tragg and then I’ll read the answers in tomorrow morning’s paper.”

“I think, Mr. Mason,” Mrs. Parsons said acidly, “that Mr. Niles’ request is quite in order. You may wait in the...”

“Reception hallway,” Palmer Endicott cut in firmly.

Mason grinned and said, “I’ll wait in my car. I’ll wait five minutes. You can make up your minds within that time to talk with me or with the police, whichever you see fit.”

“I don’t see what the police have to do with...”

“Please!” Niles protested to his clients, then turned to Mason. “Go out and wait in your car, Mason.”

Mason bowed. “Five minutes,” he said, and left the room.

Five minutes to the second after the lawyer had settled himself in his car, he started the motor, inched his way past Paddington Niles’ car, got to the garage, turned around and started back out the driveway.

He had gone perhaps fifteen feet when the side door was flung open and Ralph Endicott, running out, waved frantically at him.

Mason braked his car to a stop.

“Come in, Mr. Mason! Come right in,” Endicott called, his voice tremulous with excitement. “We’re waiting for you. We want to talk with you.”

Mason stopped his car, leaving it so that it blocked the driveway. He got out and said, “I thought you’d decided to let me go to the police.”

“No, no, no. Not yet. Come right in. We perhaps ran a few seconds over the time, but only a few seconds — just a few seconds, Mr. Mason.”

Mason followed Ralph Endicott back into the library.

They looked up as he entered.

Paddington C. Niles was frowning. His face had an expression of perplexity. Palmer Endicott, with an attempt at cordiality that was foreign to his nature and made his words utterly incongruous, said, “Sit right down, Mr. Mason. Sit right down and be comfortable.”

Lorraine Endicott Parsons actually managed a frosty smile. “ Do sit down, Mr. Mason.”

Mason seated himself at the far end of the table.

There was a moment of silence, while Ralph Endicott resumed his chair and cleared his throat.

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“Would you like to tell him, Niles?” Ralph Endicott asked.

Niles shook his head. “This is all a bit sudden, as far as I’m concerned. You tell the facts to Mason and I’ll listen while you go over them again. But be sure of your facts.”

“Oh, certainly,” Ralph Endicott said testily.

Mason lit a cigarette. “Let’s go,” he said.

Ralph Endicott said, “In the beginning, Mr. Mason, I came to the conclusion that the purported will my brother was supposed to have executed was the result of fraud, undue influence and various other illegalities. The nurse who attended him saw to it that his mind was never entirely clear, and at a propitious moment she suggested the signing of this will.”

Palmer Endicott, having made his attempt at cordiality, had now slumped down in his chair, listening to his brother’s statement with cold cynicism. Lorraine Parsons nodded her head slowly, signifying her acquiescence.

“I don’t want to talk about the will contest,” Mason said impatiently.

“Well, we do.”

“All I want to know is the time you talked with Rose Keeling. I want the exact hour as nearly as you can recall.”

“I’m coming to that,” Ralph Endicott said, “but I’m coming to it in my own way. Since you’re here, we may as well talk about the whole case. We might reach some understanding.”

Mason said, “I’m only prepared to talk about the murder.”

“Well, listen to what I have to say, then,” Endicott said.

The others nodded approval.

“I assumed,” Ralph went on, “that the witnesses to the will were equally culpable with the so-called beneficiary. I assumed that there must have been some financial benefit to them in the transaction, and I felt certain that no matter how my brother might have been drugged, no matter how much disease and undue influence had clouded his mind, he would never voluntarily have made such a will. That will was written by the beneficiary. It was then shoved under his nose and he was told to sign.”

“That doesn’t coincide with the testimony given by the two subscribing witnesses,” Mason said.

“Just a moment, just a moment,” Endicott said rapidly. “I’m coming to that.”

“All right. Go ahead.”

“So, I approached Rose Keeling. I explained to her exactly how I felt about it, and at first Miss Keeling refused to cooperate with me in any way or give me any information other than the parrotlike statement she had been paid to make.”

Mason puffed silently at his cigarette.

“Then,” Ralph Endicott went on, “her conscience began to bother her. She finally told me a most remarkable story.”