Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lonely Heiress

“And Rose gave Marilyn a key?”

“Right.”

Drake said, “You aren’t going to like this, Perry, but after we gave Marilyn Marlow a green light to go ahead with Kenneth Barstow she told him she’d fix up a tennis game with Rose Keeling and she wanted him to get her a key to Rose’s flat, either by hook or crook. She said Rose had sold out and Marilyn said if she could get in and search the place at a time when she knew Rose would be playing tennis or something that would keep her occupied so Marilyn could have the time to search the way only a woman could... She quit there. She didn’t tell Kenneth exactly what she expected to find.”

Mason said, “Keep Kenneth out of circulation for a while, Paul.”

“He’ll be discreet, Perry.”

“Unless they ask him too much. Caddo knows about him.”

“That’s right.”

“Of course you can’t blame Marilyn.”

“You mean you can’t,” Drake said, grinning.

“Well, what the hell, Paul, Rose Keeling had sold her out. She simply had to get evidence one way or another.”

There was silence for a few moments. Then Mason said, “That ink-stained, torn playsuit is a clue.”

“What about it?”

“I have a theory on it.”

“Mrs. Caddo?”

“Could be.”

“Want us to do anything there, Perry?”

“No, not yet, anyway. I’m going to have a talk with Dolores Caddo, just for the fun of the thing.”

“If you can get any fun out of that,” Drake said, “go to it.”

“You have Caddo’s home address, Della?” Mason asked abruptly.

She nodded.

“You’ve made a complete check on Ralph Endicott?” Mason asked.

“His story checks absolutely,” Drake said.

Mason said, “I hate to dismiss him from the list of suspects, but I guess we’ll have to. My own hunch is that the murder was committed right on the dot of eleven-forty. That’s the time we telephoned and someone lifted the receiver off the hook.”

Drake said, “Well, so far they can’t prove that anyone has wiped fingerprints off the telephone receiver, Perry.”

“That’s so far,” Mason said grimly. “Only my prints were on that receiver. That makes it look as if I’d tried to save my client by wiping her prints off the receiver and when I did that, I wiped the murderer’s prints off.”

“Some people would think it looked that way,” Drake said tonelessly.

“I didn’t do it, Paul.”

Drake raised his eyebrows.

“Marilyn did it,” Della said.

Drake’s face showed relief. “That’ll let you out, then, Perry. Gosh, I was worried. The minute Tragg can show the murderer must have picked up the receiver at eleven-forty, that Marilyn telephoned you around twelve-ten and that you phoned the police, but that only your prints were on the receiver — well, that gives him quite a case against you, Perry. It’s pretty strong circumstantial evidence that you sent Marilyn home and tried to save her by wiping her prints off the telephone receiver. But if you and Della can both swear Marilyn did that, it’ll put you off the spot.”

“We can’t swear that, Paul.”

“I thought you said you could.”

“We can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to our client.”

“If you don’t, it won’t be fair to you.”

“If we do, it’ll just about clinch the case against her. We have to protect our client.”

“Not to the extent of taking blame yourself, Perry! Surely you don’t have to go that far."

“Hell,” Mason said, “I go all the way for a client, Paul, and now I’m going to try to start a family fight in the Caddo family. This should be good.”

Some five minutes after Mason had rung the doorbell for the first time, Robert Caddo came shuffling down the corridor and opened the door.

A heavy woolen bathrobe was thrown around his shoulders. Beneath the robe, his legs showed in striped pajamas. His feet were encased in soft leather slippers. His hair, left long and trained to cover as much of the baldness of his head as possible, now hung down over one ear and gave him a ludicrous, lopsided appearance. There were sleep puffs under his eyes and a slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Hello,” Mason said. “I want to come in.”

Caddo said, “You... why, what’s happened?”

“Plenty,” Mason said, and pushed his way past Caddo.

The house was cold, with the chill of midnight. The windows had been opened for ventilation.

Caddo switched on lights, went around lowering windows and pulling shades. Mason found the button which controlled the gas furnace and turned it on.

“It’s cold in here,” Caddo said. “I’m shivering.”

“Perhaps you need a drink,” Mason told him.

Mrs. Caddo’s voice, from an upstairs bedroom, called, “Who is it, Bob?”

“Mr. Mason, the lawyer,” Caddo said. “You were at his office earlier today.”

Bare feet thudded on the upstairs floor. Then, after a moment, there was the sound of light, quick steps in house slippers, and Dolores Caddo, a robe wrapped rather tightly around her, glided into the room.

“Hello,” she said to Mason, and smiled, then embellished the smile with a quick wink. “I’m sorry for what I did today.”

Mason said, “Just what did you do today?”

“You know what I mean, calling at your office and making a scene.” And again she winked at him, then added hastily, “Bob says he saw you right afterwards and that he’s going to make things right with you. I told him not to squander his money — our money — because the hurt was mainly to your dignity. I hope you’ll be a good sport about it.”

“What other places did you go today?”

Caddo said, “After all, Mr. Mason, this is a very disagreeable subject. Can’t we?...”

“No,” Mason said. “I want to know where she went.”

She said gleefully, “I went to see Marilyn Marlow. I couldn’t find her. I had to put her on my list for tomorrow, but I saw Rose Keeling.”

“What time?”

“Right around eleven-thirty.”

“Throw any ink?”

She said grimly, “Believe me, that little drip will keep grub hooks off a married man in the future. I went places with her.”

“At what time?” Mason asked.

“Around eleven-thirty. It took me a little time to find her. I wasted some time trying to get Marilyn Marlow located, but Bob’s dear friend, Miss Marlow, was hiding out.”

“I tell you, my love, that it was only a business matter. Purely a business matter!” Caddo said desperately. “And if you had given Mr. Mason a chance to explain, he would have told you that. As a matter of fact, I never even saw Rose Keeling in my life.”

“Well, I saw her,” his wife said, “and, believe me, I put the fear of God into her.”

“What was she doing when you got there?” Mason asked.

“Dolling herself up for a tennis game. She had on one of those leg-showing suits, a nice, flimsy little thing. Well, I fixed that! I ripped it down the back and said, ‘Why not show ’em all of you, dearie? Why just tease them?’ And then I took my fountain pen and snapped ink all over her.”

“My love, you didn’t!” Caddo said, his voice filled with dismay.

“I certainly did!” his wife said. “And any time you think you’re going to cut corners, just remember one thing. I’ll find out about it sooner or later, and when I do, I’m going to make a scene that will teach people a married man isn’t fair game.”

“But, my love! This was a business matter. I could have made a lot of money out of it.”

“How?” Mason asked.

Caddo said, “Well, I...” He stopped abruptly, his sentence unfinished.