Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Daring Divorcee

“I want to know where you went,” Tragg said.

“If you don’t mind,” Adelle Hastings said, “I won’t say anything about where I went after I left the house until I’ve talked with Mr. Mason about it.”

“And if I do mind?” Tragg asked.

“I won’t say anything anyway.”

Tragg said, “I’m not going to book you for murder at the present time, Mrs. Hastings; and I’m not even going to take you to headquarters for questioning, but I don’t want you to leave town. Now, can we have a gentlemen’s agreement, Perry. You’ll agree to produce this woman for questioning at any time if I don’t take her to headquarters now?”

Mason turned to Adelle Hastings. “That means that you can’t go back to Las Vegas,” he said.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Forty-eight hours,” Tragg said.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll stay here.”

“Where will you stay?” Tragg asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll go to a hotel.”

“And you’ll keep in touch with Mason?”

“I’ll keep in touch with him.”

Tragg turned to Mason and said, “Now, as far as you’re concerned, Perry, the situation is a little different.

“If you tell me that you put that gun in the drawer in good faith, and that it’s disappeared and you don’t know what’s happened to it, that’s all right as far as I’m concerned. But I warn you, it isn’t going to be all right as far as the district attorney is concerned. Hamilton Burger is going to feel that this is another one of your hocus-pocus flimflams and he’s probably going to give you an ultimatum — either produce that gun or go before the grand jury.”

“I don’t care what Hamilton Burger thinks,” Perry Mason said. “I put that gun in this drawer in the desk.”

“And that drawer’s now empty,” Tragg said.

“That’s right.”

“Any other empty drawers in the desk?”

“No,” Mason said. “This is a drawer that I keep for urgent matters that are pending and demanding immediate attention.”

“That’s very fitting,” Tragg said significantly. “That gun is an urgent matter that is pending, and for your information it needs immediate attention.”

“I’m going to try to find out about it,” Mason said, “but after all, you know the locks on these doors aren’t designed to be burglar-proof. They’re made so that one master key will open any door on the floor.”

“And who has the master key?”

“The janitor, the cleaning woman — frankly, I don’t know. I’ll have to get in touch with the people in charge of the building and run it down.”

“You’d better run it down,” Tragg said over his shoulder as he nodded to Adelle Hastings and walked out.

Mason turned to Adelle Hastings. “Did you kill your husband?” he asked.

“No.”

“There are some things about your story that are highly fortuitous and rather suspicious.”

“I know it,” she said. “I can’t help it. I told you the truth. You can see what happened. Somebody deliberately framed me. Somebody stole my bag. From the bag this person got the keys to my apartment. Whoever stole the bag went back to my apartment, used the keys to get in the apartment, stole the gun and...”

“And used the gun to kill your husband?” Mason asked, as her voice trailed into silence.

“It looks that way.”

“Your husband was killed in bed, presumably while he was asleep.”

She nodded.

“That means,” Mason said, “that the murderer was someone who was in the house, someone he trusted.”

“Or someone who had a key to the house,” she said.

“All right,” Mason said, “you want to direct attention to the purse stealer but you have just told me that your husband kept a key to the house in his office so that if he should telephone and want someone to go and get something out of the house there wouldn’t be any hitch.”

Again she nodded.

“Now then,” Mason said, “that means anyone in the office could have taken a key and gone to the house. How many people are in the office?”

“There must be twenty or thirty people employed there altogether.”

“All of whom would have access to the key?”

“No. The key is kept in a closet, and the key to the closet is supposed to be kept in the desk of the manager.”

“Then, if your husband should telephone the office and want someone to go out and get some papers or something from his house, the manager would have to go?”

“No, no, not the manager, but the manager would take the key and give it to the person who was being sent out.”

“And who would that be?”

“It might be anyone. It might be the office boy, or one of the secretaries.”

“And,” Mason said, “while that person had the key there’s nothing whatever to prevent him or her from stopping in at a key shop and having a duplicate made.”

“Yes,” she said, “I suppose so, except that the people in the office are presumably people my husband can trust.”

“You acted as secretary for your husband before you were married?”

“Yes.”

“He was a bachelor?”

“No.”

“He had been married before?”

“Yes.”

“A widower?”

“No, he was divorced.”

“And what happened to the first wife?”

“She was the second wife,” Adelle Hastings said. “The first wife died. The second wife— Well, there was a divorce.”

Mason regarded her thoughtfully. “The divorce cleared the way for you two to marry?”

“Yes.”

“Who got the divorce?”

“The wife.”

“Friendly?”

“Definitely not.”

“Were you by any chance named as corespondent?”

“Yes.”

“Where was the divorce obtained?”

“Nevada.”

“Las Vegas?”

“No, Carson City.”

“How long ago?”

“About nineteen months.”

“And as soon as the divorce decree was signed, you and Mr. Hastings married?”

“Yes.”

“Now then,” Mason said, “this wife, this divorcee, what about her? Has she forgotten about it and remarried, or—”

“Forgotten about nothing,” Adelle Hastings snapped. “She hates the ground I walk on. She’d do anything she could to make trouble. That’s the reason I... well, I— Well, ever since this business came up of the gun being planted in my bag I’ve been wondering about her.”

“Where is she living now?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hastings. She hasn’t remarried.”

“I mean her first name.”

“Minerva Shelton Hastings, and she’s one of the most scheming, two-faced little hypocrites I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Was she in love with Garvin Hastings?”

“Minerva Shelton Hastings has only one real love in her life, and that is Minerva Shelton Hastings. She is selfish, cold-blooded, scheming, grasping, cunning, two-faced—”

“Did she love Garvin Hastings?”

“She loved the thought of getting some money.”

“And I take it she got some money?”

“She certainly did.”

“What was Garvin Hastings worth?”

“Heavens, I don’t know. He had properties scattered all over. He must be worth two or three million dollars.”

“How much of a settlement did Minerva get?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Cash?”

“Spot cash.”

“Then if she didn’t love Garvin,” Mason said, “and she got a good settlement, there’s no reason why she should feel bitter toward you.”

“Oh, yes there is. She had her hooks into him and if it hadn’t been for me she’d have had every cent by this time.”

“How?”

“She’d have poisoned him.”