Erle Gardner - The Case of the Haunted Husband

“If he had been wearing a gray business suit at the time,” Mason said, “he would hardly have taken a plane, kept a rendezvous with someone, picked up the car, changed to a tuxedo, and still been at Bakersfield at ten o’clock.”

“All right. We will pass that for the moment. He might have done it, but let us hear the rest of it.”

“That brings us to the question of whether he was wearing the tuxedo at five o’clock. And, since he hadn’t taken a tuxedo with him, it must, in that case, have been some other person’s, one that Greeley had rented, or one he kept in San Francisco. But why would he have been in the Southern Pacific Depot at five-fifteen in the evening wearing a tuxedo? That is pretty early in the day for a dinner jacket.”

“Keep right on,” Tragg said.

“The tuxedo must have been twenty-four hours old,” Mason announced. “In other words, he must have put it on for some function he was attending the night before, something from which he had been called away very suddenly and hadn’t had an opportunity to change his clothes.

“If Greeley didn’t have a chance to put on a tuxedo after he left San Francisco, he must have had it on before.”

Tragg frowned thoughtfully. “Don’t say anything for a minute. Let me think that over.”

He shifted his position in the chair so that he was sitting forward on the extreme edge of the seat. He spread his knees far apart, put his elbows on his knees, raised his hands to his chin, and sat staring down at the carpet.

Abruptly, he straightened. “Mason, you should have been a detective. You are right.”

“Of course,” Mason said, “it is hard to back-track a man under ordinary circumstances, but a man who wears a tuxedo in daylight is very conspicuous.”

Tragg said, “Give me some paper, Mason.” He whipped a pencil from his pocket, braced the pad of paper which Mason gave him over his knee and started making swift notes. “We will look up Spinney in San Francisco. Now then, we will start checking with service stations to see if a man in a tuxedo bought gasoline for an automobile. We will check those stations all the way down the valley route, and we will check the air lines, and see if a man in a tuxedo didn’t get aboard a plane out of San Francisco sometime on Wednesday night.”

“And while you are about it, try late Tuesday night and early Wednesday morning,” Mason said.

Tragg looked up from his writing. “I don’t get that.”

Mason said, “It is just an angle. Let us try it. You know he may have been wearing his tuxedo all Tuesday night and all day Wednesday, because his double-breasted gray suit may have been in Homan’s house.”

“What makes you think that?”

“When he left home, he was wearing a gray suit. On the Ridge Route, he was wearing a tuxedo. When he got home, Mrs. Greeley says he wasn’t wearing a tuxedo. Yet he didn’t take any baggage with him when he slipped out of Homan’s car up on the Ridge Route.”

“Well, I can’t give you much on it, but it’s an angle. Okay, let me phone headquarters.”

“You can use Della Street’s office,” Mason said.

Tragg said, “I am going to get some immediate action on this.”

“You can’t start the wheels grinding any too fast to suit us.”

Mason and Drake sat smoking while they listened to Tragg putting through the telephone calls in Della Street’s office, instructing headquarters to make a check-up, sending out inquiries to the state highway police, and asking the San Francisco police to check on what had happened at the airport.

“How about going out and grabbing a bite to eat?” Tragg asked, returning from Della’s office.

Mason said, “We are waiting for Della Street. She went out to Hollywood to get a line on Homan.”

“Can’t you leave a note for her?”

“I could,” Mason said, “but I am watching. I thought perhaps there would be a call from her.”

Tragg said, “It will take me an hour or so before I begin to get reports from my end, and I thought it would be a good time to eat. We may be busy afterwards.”

“You folks go out, and I will wait,” Mason suggested.

Tragg said, “Oh, I shall just run down to a counter and pick up a hamburger sandwich. I...”

The phone on Mason’s desk rang.

Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Hello,” and heard a feminine voice say, with every indication of relief, “Oh, I am so glad I caught you at your office, Mr. Mason. I must see you at once.”

“Who is this?”

“Mrs. Greeley.”

“What is it?” Mason asked. “No, wait a minute. Hold the phone just a moment, please.” He cupped his hand over the receiver, said to Tragg, “Mrs. Greeley on the phone. She is getting ready to tell me something, sounds rather excited. You should better listen in on the extension — just in case.”

“Where?” Tragg asked.

“Go in Della Street office and push that left-hand button...”

“I will show him,” Drake said.

Mason waited until Tragg had plugged into the line, then he said, “Yes, Mrs. Greeley.”

“What was that click I just heard? Did someone else...”

“I thought it would be better to use another telephone,” Mason said. “There were some people in my office. What is it?”

“Mr. Mason, I am afraid I have — well, I don’t know. I... I wanted to ask you about something.”

“What?”

“I feel very guilty.”

“Why?”

She said, “I may have done that young woman injustice.”

“In what way?”

“I... well, you perhaps know something of how I feel. Mr. Greeley and I were very close. I... I have been feeling so absolutely all alone and completely lost. Tonight I just felt I had to do something, so I started packing up some of my husband’s clothes to give away. I couldn’t bear walking into his room and seeing his clothes in his closet and everything, and...”

“Yes, go on,” Mason said.

“Something happened, and I... well, I found something.”

“What are you getting at?” Mason asked.

“I... well, Mr. Mason, one of my husband’s dress shirts has a long red streak across the front, and the smear made by a woman’s lips. I...”

“Where are you now?” Mason asked.

“Out at my flat.”

“How long ago did you find this shirt?”

“Why, just a few minutes ago — oh, perhaps five minutes. I found it in the bag of clothes he had ready to go to the laundry. I don’t think my husband could possibly have been driving that car, but... well, you understand, Mr. Mason, I want to be fair. I simply couldn’t put that young woman in a false position. I thought you ought to know.”

Mason said, “I would like very much to see that shirt at once, Mrs. Greeley. Suppose I drive out?”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“No. I want to see that shirt at once — just as you found it.”

“Well, I... I will tell you what I will do, Mr. Mason. If you will be at your office for a little while, I will drive by on my way to dinner and bring it in.”

“All right,” Mason said, “and there is something else I want you to do.”

“Yes. What is it?”

“Check through your husband’s clothes that are in the closet. Find his tuxedo and bring that along.”

“I was just going to ask you about that, Mr. Mason, whether you wanted it.”

“Yes, I do.”

“It will take me half an hour to get ready. You will be there?”

“Yes, yes, I shall be here.”

“I wouldn’t want to make the trip unless...”

“I will be here.”

“Very well, Mr. Mason.”

The receiver clicked at the other end of the line.

Mason hung up the telephone, walked in to Della Street’s office where Tragg was still sitting at Della Street’s desk staring at the telephone.