Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lonely Heiress

“And then I’ll start asking him specifically about the articles that were in the suitcase and will bring out the evidence that shows she was unpacking instead of packing. And that will make it appear that I knew what I was talking about all along, that the District Attorney has missed a bet, and, more important than all, it will keep from crucifying Marilyn Marlow with that story she’s telling. In other words, if Rose Keeling had been packing, she never would have invited Marilyn Marlow to come back and play tennis. If she had been un packing, she could very well have done so. It’s just a little thing, but it may mean the difference between conviction and acquittal in a murder case. In one way Marilyn Marlow’s story has to be a lie, and in the other way it may be the truth. How about this block, Della? Have you seen anything that looks like a police car?”

“Not a thing so far.”

Mason said, “Well, we can’t comb the whole city. We’ve got the key. Let’s take a chance.”

“Okay by me,” Della said. “Where are you going to leave the car?”

“Right in front of the flat,” Mason told her.

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Sure it’s dangerous. The whole thing is dangerous. The minute we walk in there, we’re playing into Tragg’s hands. If he should spot us, he’ll arrest us for burglary.”

“But we aren’t taking anything.”

“Burglary,” Mason said, “is a matter of intent.”

“What do you mean?”

“A person who enters a building with intent to commit larceny or any felony is guilty of burglary.”

“You mean if we were caught inside the building, we wouldn’t have any defense?”

“We’d have to convince a jury that our intent in entering the building wasn’t to take anything. That might be quite a job. The police would claim we intended to take something out with us.”

“What, for instance?”

“They wouldn’t need to specify. They’d claim it was some bit of evidence we didn’t want to have found by the police. Oh, what’s the use, Della. We just can’t afford to get caught.”

She laughed. “I was just getting posted on the law.”

“Do you want to wait in the car and...”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I can go in and take a preliminary look around...”

“What would you know about fixing evidence so it would look as though a girl had been unpacking instead of packing? You’d botch it all up. Any man would. Don’t be silly, let’s go.”

Mason slid the car to a stop in front of the flat.

“Do we do any more reconnoitering?” Della asked.

“Definitely not. Anyone who might happen to be looking out from one of the adjoining houses would immediately think we were guilty of something. We walk right up to the place, just like we were police detectives getting evidence. Just like this.”

Mason led the way across the sidewalk, fitted the key to the door of the flat.

“And go right up?” Della Street asked.

“Right up,” Mason said. “After all, the housing shortage being what it is, the neighbors might think some friend of the chief of police had made a new lease on the flat before they had the body moved out. Just don’t turn on the lights, Della. We’ll use flashlights and keep the beams shaded.”

Mason produced two small flashlights which he had taken from the glove compartment of his car, and they moved cautiously up the stair treads.

“Keep a little to one side,” Mason warned. “The sides of the treads don’t creak as much. I don’t want the people in the flat below to hear steps moving around up here.”

“The building’s constructed rather substantially,” Della Street said.

“I know, but just take it easy.”

Keeping to the side of the stair treads, they moved cautiously up to the second floor. Mason, keeping the beam of his flashlight shielded, moved quietly through the living room, down the short stretch of corridor and into the bedroom.

The body had been moved, and where the red pool had been there was now only a sinister stain. Chalk marks on the floor outlined the general position of the body when it had been found.

“They’ve dusted everything for fingerprints,” Mason said, “but aside from that, they’ve left stuff just as it was.”

“Then they haven’t made an inventory of the things that were in the suitcases?”

“I don’t think so. They probably just lifted the edges of the various garments. They may intend to do some more photographing or bring in some more witnesses. Perhaps later on they’ll close these suitcases and take them up to the District Attorney’s office. All right, here you are, Della. Get busy.”

Della Street bent over the suitcases. Mason held his flashlight so it gave her a circle of illumination.

Della Street’s deft fingers ran through the garments.

“What do you make of it?” Mason asked.

Della Street said, “She was either going to get married or she was going on a trip of some importance. She certainly put her finery in here and lots of it. Looks to me as though she’d raided her hope chest. She went heavy on lingerie and nighties... expensive stuff.”

“How can you make it appear she’d been unpacking instead of packing?”

“Give me time, Chief, I’ll have to figure that one out.”

Her skillful fingers raised the folds of each one of the garments without disturbing the manner in which it had been packed.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Della Street said in a low whisper. “The girl was a darn good packer and I don’t think there was anything hasty about the way she did this packing, either. It’s been done very carefully.”

“Stay with it,” Mason said. “See what else you can find.”

Della Street ran through the other suitcase, then said, “She evidently hadn’t packed one side of it. What are the clothes on the dresser?”

Mason raised the beam of his flashlight so Della Street could inspect them. Suddenly she whistled.

“What’s the matter?” Mason asked.

Della Street said, “Chief, the theory of the police is that these garments were folded and placed on top of the bureau so they could be put into the suitcase?”

“That’s right.”

Della Street shook her head. “She couldn’t have folded them that accurately. You see, the edges are all uniform, just absolutely the dimensions of the suitcase.”

Della Street picked the garments up and eased them down into the suitcase. “See, they fit exactly!”

“Well?” Mason asked.

“Don’t you get it?” Della Street said, her voice excited.

“Get what?”

“Chief, you’re right! You had it all the time.”

“You mean she was unpacking?”

“She was! She had to be. See what happened? She folded these garments into the suitcase, one by one. That’s the reason they exactly fit the dimensions of the suitcase. As she folded them, they were inside the suitcase. Then when she started to unpack, she lifted out the garments that were on this side of the suitcase and put them on the top of the bureau... Probably something she wanted out from underneath. Then she left them there on top of the bureau. There aren’t enough here to fill... Let’s take a look, Chief.”

Excitedly, Della Street opened the bureau drawers.

“Look,” she said breathlessly, “look at these garments! They’re folded exactly in the same way the others are. Let’s see.”

Della Street carefully picked up a blouse and superimposed it on top of the pile of garments on top of the bureau.

“You see what I mean? She had started to unpack! She really had, Chief! She’d taken these garments out of the suitcase, placed them on top of the bureau; and then she was proceeding to put them back in the bureau drawers, and because the dimensions of the suitcases were somewhere near those of the drawer, she hadn’t bothered to fold them again, but had left them folded just as they had been to go into the suitcase.”