Erle Gardner - The Case of the Haunted Husband

Tragg picked up the telephone, called headquarters, and said, “I want a dragnet out for a Mrs. Warfield who registered at the Gateview Hotel last night as Lois Warfield of New Orleans. She checked out of the hotel within the last hour. Search all the restaurants nearby. She is thirty-odd, thin, average height, tired looking, blue eyes, light chestnut hair, blue serge suit. I want her damn bad. Rush it.”

He hung up the telephone.

“And do you,” Mason said, “want us anymore?”

Tragg grinned. “Hell, no!”

Out in the street once more, Mason said, “I thought he would give us more action going after Spinney if he thought I was trying to keep what I knew about Spinney away from him.”

“It may work that way,” Drake admitted. “Why didn’t he mention her baggage in Greeley’s room?”

“Trying to trap us,” Mason said. “Watch your step, Paul. In the meantime, we shall see if there is an Adler Greeley in the telephone book. If there is, we will pay a very hurried call. While Tragg is busy unscrambling the leads we have given him, we may manage to steal a march.”

The building was a two-flat affair in a high-priced district. Green palm fronds splashed against the background of white stone.

A coloured maid answered the bell.

Mason gave her his card. “I would like to see Mrs. Greeley if she is in,” he said. “Please tell her it is very important.”

The maid took the card, read it, glanced shrewdly at Mason, said, “Just a moment, please,” and climbed the stairs. A few moments later, she returned. “Mrs. Greeley will see you,” she said.

Mason was ushered into a living room in which dark massive furniture, deep rugs, and a few carefully selected oil paintings, originals, gave an atmosphere of unpretentious luxury. The photograph over the fireplace was unquestionably that of the man whose body Mason had seen at the Gateview Hotel.

Mrs. Greeley was evidently in the early thirties. She was a woman who could extend every courtesy as a hostess, yet managed to withhold the intimacy of her friendship — a woman who had quite evidently done much entertaining, had been entertained, and who would seldom be at a loss under any circumstances.

Surveying him with frank curiosity, she said, “I have heard of you, Mr. Mason, and I have read about your cases in the papers. Won’t you be seated?”

Mason said, “My errand is not very pleasant, Mrs. Greeley. It has to do with your husband.” He paused.

She said, “I am sorry, Mr. Mason. You can’t see him. He is in San Francisco.”

“Do you know just when he went to San Francisco?” Mason asked.

“Why, yes. He was called rather unexpectedly yesterday evening.”

“Does he go to San Francisco frequently?”

“Yes. His business calls him there regularly. Can you tell me the reason for these questions, Mr. Mason?”

Mason said, “Frankly, Mrs. Greeley, I am investigating an automobile accident in which your husband was concerned.”

“Adler in an automobile accident?”

The lawyer nodded.

“You don’t mean last night? Tell me, Mr. Mason, he wasn’t hurt?...”

“No, not last night. It was several days ago.”

“Why, I didn’t hear him say a thing about it. There was a bruise... Can you tell me just what you have in mind, Mr. Mason?”

“Your husband was in San Francisco last Wednesday?”

“He goes up there frequently.”

“And does he drive when he makes the trip?”

“Good heavens, no! Not between here and San Francisco! He takes the plane or the night train, usually the plane. Sometimes he will go up on the early morning plane and take the night train back.”

“One more question. Can you tell me if Mr. Greeley knows a motion picture producer by the name of Homan?”

“Why, yes. Well, now, wait a minute, I don’t know whether he has met Mr. Homan personally or just over the telephone. But I know he has handled some business for Mr. Homan. I remember we were at a picture a few nights ago, and Mr. Homan’s name was flashed on the screen. Adler told me that Homan was a client of his, and I was quite thrilled.”

“Mrs. Greeley, has your husband mentioned that he was in any automobile accident recently?”

“No.”

“Has he seemed bruised or stiff or sore?”

“Except for a slight... Mr. Mason, why do you ask me these questions? Adler would be the logical person to answer them”

“Unfortunately, he isn’t available.”

“His office would know where to reach him. You could get him on the phone.”

“His office said they couldn’t tell me when I could reach him.”

She smiled. “Perhaps they would tell you that, but they would let me know.”

“Was he here last night?”

“No. I told you he was called to San Francisco — but he expected to take either the morning train or the night train back.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your husband might change his plans — or might tell you he was in one place when he was really in another?”

She laughed in his face. “Are you trying to ask delicately if it’s occurred to me that my husband would deceive me?”

“Yes.”

She said, still smiling, “I suppose he would. I think any man would if he happened to be tempted sufficiently. But my husband would always play fair with me, Mr. Mason. There is a difference, you see. And I think, Mr. Mason, that you have said enough now so that Adler should know you are here and what you want.”

She opened a compartment in a taboret, took out an extension telephone, dialed a number, and said, “Irma, this is Mrs. Greeley. Let me talk with Mr. Greeley, will you please?... Oh, he hasn’t. Well, where can I reach him?... That’s in San Francisco?... I see... Well, give me a ring as soon as you hear from him then.”

She dropped the receiver into place, said, “He told her he would either be at the office before noon or give her a ring from San Francisco. She thinks he is on his way by plane.”

“So you think if your husband were sufficiently tempted, he might...”

“Mr. Mason,” she interrupted, “any husband who is worth his salt can’t get over the idea he is something of a devil with the women. If a woman is clever enough to capitalize on it, she can turn any man’s head — but she can’t turn his heart, Mr. Mason, and I think that answers your question. And now, since I have answered it, may I ask why you are here, what you are intimating, and precisely what you have in mind?”

Her eyes, which held Mason’s, were frankly challenging, just a little suspicious.

“Specifically, Mrs. Greeley, I think your husband was driving an automobile on Wednesday evening of last week at about ten o’clock. He was driving over the Ridge Route. A young woman was with him. There was an accident. Some persons were badly injured.”

“You mean he was going to San Francisco?”

“No. He was coming this way.”

“At what time?”

“At a little after eleven o’clock.”

She thought for a moment. “That was Wednesday of last week?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you asked Mr. Greeley?”

“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find him.”

“After all, Mr. Mason, it seems rather circuitous to come to me... I think that if you have any further questions about my husband, you’re going to have to ask them of him.”

“That is impossible.”

“Well, it won’t be impossible long. He will be in his office...”

“I am afraid,” Mason said, “your husband won’t be in his office — not today, not tomorrow, not this week.”

She was staring at him, her forehead puckered into a perplexed frown when the telephone rang.

Her eyes flashed triumph. “That,” she said, “will be Irma telling me Mr. Greeley is at the office. I am going to tell him that you are here and what you want, Mr. Mason.”