Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lonely Heiress

“Just before I left the dentist’s, I conceived the idea of holding the check but having it certified. I consulted my watch. It was a few minutes before ten. I hurried to the bank and reached the cashier’s window at about ten-five. When he certified the check, I asked him to be certain to note the time of certification. You can see he wrote it on the check, 10:10 a.m.

“From the bank I went to a chess and checker club. I arrived there at about ten-twenty and started playing in a tournament in which I was a contestant. I played continuously until about three-thirty. Then I had a sandwich and a malted milk and drove home in my car — a model A Ford. I have been here ever since.

“Here is the certified check, in case you wish to examine it.”

“I presume you can verify all these times,” Mason asked, taking the check Ralph Endicott handed him.

“As a matter of fact, I can very easily. As it happens, I was playing chess on a time limit, and inasmuch as I am considered one of the champions there, there was a record kept of the games and of the time consumed in the games. However, I consider all of this as absolutely beside the point and quite irrelevant.”

Mason, who had been examining the check, said, “You saw her sign this check?”

“Yes.”

“I notice there’s a somewhat smeared but still fairly legible fingerprint on the back of this check.”

“Let’s see it.”

Mason pointed out the smudged fingerprint.

“Probably my fingerprint,” Ralph Endicott said casually.

“Made in ink?”

“That’s right. I remember now I started to endorse the check, and the cashier told me that I shouldn’t endorse it. If I wanted to have it certified, the certification would show the check was good as gold. He said I wasn’t to endorse it until I was ready to cash it.”

Mason said, “Well, let’s just check on this ink-smeared print. If it’s your fingerprint, let’s find out.”

Endicott burst out, “I consider this damned impertinent!”

“So do I,” Niles said.

“I don’t,” Palmer Endicott said calmly. “If we’re going to put our cards on the table, let’s put them all on the table. Rose Keeling was murdered today. Ralph was with her. He received a check from her, and he went to the bank and presented that check to have it certified. Under the circumstances, he’s going to have to account for every minute of his time, and if he can’t do it right now, I, for one, want to know it.”

Ralph Endicott turned to him irritably. “What are you trying to do?” he said. “Casting insinuations?”

“I’m not casting any insinuations,” Palmer said calmly, his eyes still fixed on his folded hands, his outward demeanor one of extreme placidity, “I’m merely checking. I want to know, myself, just as much as Mason does.”

“My own brother!” Ralph snorted.

“And doing you a great favor,” Palmer said.

“Yes,” Ralph said sarcastically, “I know just how much of a favor you want to do me.” He drew his index finger in a circular cutting motion across the front of his throat.

Niles said hastily, “Come, come, gentlemen, remember that Mr. Mason is here, and that Mr. Mason is representing adverse interests. Frankly, I see no reason for letting him question your word or indulge in any cross-examination.”

Palmer Endicott pushed back his chair, said, “You folks can do whatever you want to, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m going to find out about that fingerprint, and I’m going to find out about it right now.”

“Ralph isn’t trying to keep anything from you, Palmer,” Lorraine Parsons said acidly. “It’s merely that we object to discussing family affairs in front of this... this lawyer.”

Palmer Endicott said, “The trouble with Ralph is he thinks he’s too smart. He’s always gilding the lily and painting the rose. If he’d only learn to confine himself to the evidence and tell the simple truth, we’d all be better off. If it hadn’t been for that time he tried to dress things up and make the evidence look better ten years ago, we wouldn’t have been dependent upon inheriting under our brother’s will. We could have been independently rich and...”

“Palmer!” Lorraine snapped. “We won’t go into that.”

“I was merely mentioning...”

“Well, don’t.”

Palmer walked into the next room, said, “Well, there’s an ink pad in the writing desk. Can you make fingerprints from an ordinary rubber stamp ink pad, Mr. Mason?”

“I think so,” Mason said.

Ralph Endicott said, “This is all foolishness.”

Niles shifted his position uneasily in his chair. “I don’t approve of...”

Palmer Endicott returned to the room, carrying an ink pad and a sheet of paper. “Here you are,” he said to Ralph Endicott, holding the paper out in front of him. “A blank sheet of paper and an ink pad. Let’s see your fingerprints.”

Ralph Endicott said angrily, “You’re crazy, Palmer.”

“Crazy like a fox,” Palmer said. “Come on over here and take your fingerprints.”

He moved over to a small table at the far corner of the room, put down the sheet of paper and inked pad, said, “I’ll be getting a drink while you’re doing it.”

“Do I have to?” Ralph Endicott asked the lawyer.

“I would say not,” Niles said.

Palmer Endicott, standing in the door of the butler’s pantry, said quietly and forcefully, “Go over to that table and put your prints on that paper. Do you all want Scotch and soda?”

Mrs. Parsons said, “I think Scotch and soda would suit us all, Palmer, but I don’t think Mr. Mason would be comfortable drinking with us.”

Ralph Endicott walked over to the small table, inked his fingers and sullenly pressed them down on the sheet of paper.

Palmer Endicott, standing in the doorway, said, “Never let it be said that the Endicotts were remiss in hospitality. Scotch and soda, Mr. Mason?”

“Please,” the lawyer said.

Palmer Endicott left the room.

Ralph Endicott, having finished with the prints of his right hand, placed his left hand on the pad and transferred a set of fingerprints to the paper. He waved the paper in the air so that the prints would dry, then brought it over to the table and placed it in front of Mason. His face was sullen.

Mrs. Parsons said, “I, for one, bitterly resent the aspersions which are being cast upon the family. The Endicotts have at times been impecunious. They have never been dishonorable.”

There was an uncomfortable silence while Mason studied the fingerprints.

Palmer Endicott returned from the butler’s pantry with a half bottle of Scotch and glasses containing ice cubes. “How’s it coming?” he asked Mason.

Mason, comparing the fingerprints, said, “It looks to me like a thumbprint — I think — that’s right. It’s the right thumbprint. They check absolutely.”

“I’ll take a look for myself,” Niles said, and, crossing over to Mason, peered over the lawyer’s shoulder. At length he nodded. “That’s right,” he said, “they do seem to check.”

Palmer Endicott poured Scotch into the glasses. He used no jigger for measurement, and it was noticeable that he tried to conserve the Scotch as much as possible. When he splashed soda into the glasses, the resulting mixture was a very faint amber color.

“I hope you’re satisfied now,” Ralph said.

Palmer Endicott moved the tray over to offer his sister a drink. “I’m not satisfied. I’m merely convinced. Of course, Ralph,” he went on musingly, “you had no incentive to kill her. You had no motive, as far as I can see. But you sure as hell did have an opportunity.”

“I did not!” Ralph said indignantly. “She was alive and well when I left her, and I’m willing to bet the autopsy will show she was killed a long time after that.”