Erle Gardner - The Case of the Haunted Husband

Mason impatiently jerked the door open, then recoiled at what he saw.

A pillow lay crumpled on the floor of the bathroom. From the interior of this pillow, white, fluffy feathers had drifted out over the floor, over the bathroom, over the body which hung balanced over the bathtub, the head down, the arms outstretched. From the back of the head, near the base of the brain, sinister streams of red welled upward to trickle down the neck and jaw, and drop into the bathtub. There was a faint acrid odor of burnt, smokeless powder in the room, and the ejected cartridge from a small-caliber automatic glistened in the light, the newness of the yellow brass glinting as though it had been freshly minted gold.

“I am sorry,” Horty said. “You see how it is. I couldn’t tell you over the phone. Cripes, Mr. Mason, this has got me. I am going to get sick if I stay in here.”

Mason said with crisp authority, “Snap out of it.” He stepped forward, bent down, and looked at the bullet hole. There were little powder marks tattooed in the skin. The rip in the pillow on the floor had a burnt discolouration around the edges.

Mason bent forward and reached for the man’s wrist.

“He is dead as a herring,” Hortense said.

He turned the man’s head. It was Ernest Tanner, the chauffeur.

Mason stepped back. “How did it happen?” he asked.

“Let us get out of here... Okay... We got to feeling pretty good. He was a good egg. He knew something. He was sore at Homan. I strung him along. You know the play. After a while, he started making passes.”

“What did you do?” Mason asked.

“What did you think I was going to do? Think I was going to take him out, kid him along, and then slap his face when he got fresh? Not me. I took it in my stride, and strung him along.”

“Well, come on,” Mason said, looking at his wrist watch. “Get down to brass tacks. Just how did this happen?”

“I wish I knew.”

“We will have to call the police, so let us get the facts. Get them out. Don’t make statements and then wait to see how I take them.”

“Well, I got this man feeling pretty good. I was trying to get him loosened up and convivial, and I guess I overdid it. I kept talking to him about how he could get even with Homan by giving Stephane a break. He was tight-lipped at first, but later on he loosened up. I saw he was getting in the mood to tell what he knew and made up my mind that I was going to have him where I could get action fast.”

“You mean getting him in touch with Stephane?”

“No, with her uncle. I thought a man could...”

“I understand. What happened?”

“Well, I kept working him down in this direction until we finally wound up at the Adirondack Bar. And then — well, then was when I found I had miscalculated. He had taken aboard a little too much. But he was getting ready to come through with some real information. Gosh, Mr. Mason, I didn’t know what to do. Under circumstances like that, a girl has to think fast. Well, I asked him to excuse me a minute, and telephoned up to Stephane’s room. She wasn’t in. I telephoned her uncle. No answer. I wasn’t going to let him get out of my hands, so I decided to take him up to the uncle’s room, and wait for him to get feeling better and Mr. Olger to come in.”

“How did you work it?”

“It was a cinch,” she said. “I simply walked up to the desk, bold as brass, and asked for the key to five-twenty-eight. I knew that was the suite. The room clerk was busy talking with someone, and he just reached in the pigeonhole and slid the key out on the counter. I went back and got Tanner and took him up to the room. Of course, he got sick right away, and headed for the bathroom. I didn’t know just where I could get in touch with Stephane, so I thought I should better call you, tell you the whole business, and see if you knew where Mr. Olger was, or if you wanted to come and talk to this lad. I hated to bother you with it, but...”

“Go on.”

“Well, you know how it is in these hotel bedrooms. You can hear what a person says over the telephone if you are in the bath. Those doors are thin, and the telephone is by the head of the bed, right near the bathroom door. I felt Ernest would be pretty well occupied for a while. I guess I wasn’t thinking quite so clearly myself. We have been having quite a few. I remembered there were telephones in the lobby in booths. So I dashed to the elevator, went down to the lobby, and called your office. I kept getting a busy signal. So then I came back up here to make certain Ernest didn’t walk out on me. As soon as I came down the corridor, I saw the door was slightly ajar...”

“You had locked it when you left?”

“No, I hadn’t. I had just closed it and...”

Mason pressed the down button, and almost instantly an elevator cage slid to a stop. The operator was the same one who had taken Mason up to the fifth floor. He gave them both casual glances, then slid the door shut, and dropped the cage to the lobby.

Mason said, “Take my arm. Don’t look at the clerk. He may think you are going to ask for information. Move up along by the desk, slide the key over on the desk very gently so it doesn’t make any noise. All ready? Here we go.”

“Now what?” she asked.

Mason said, “I have a taxi outside. The driver’s waiting. He will be watching for me. I don’t want him to see you with me. A few minutes after I leave, go out and walk down to the corner. Take a streetcar for a few blocks, then get out, pick up a cab, and go home.”

“Why not go home in a streetcar?”

“I want you to get there faster than you can in a streetcar. I want you to go home in a cab with your mad money. Do you get it? The man got insulting, and started making passes at you. You called the party off, and went home in a taxi.”

“Why not on a streetcar?”

“He would have followed you on a streetcar. You ran out and grabbed a taxi. Pick one that’s in front of a bar. Come running out as though you were in a hurry, jump in, and give your address. Got it?”

“Get you.”

“Got any money?”

“A little.”

Mason slipped a bill into her hand. “Take this,” he said, “and you will have more. And keep your head. As soon as you get home, brew yourself a pot of strong coffee. Lay off the booze from now on.”

He felt her hand squeeze his arm. “Gosh, you are a grand guy,” she whispered with feeling.

Mason said, “It is our only chance to get a murderer and it is the only way to keep Stephane out of it. The Greeley business was one thing — but this — right in her hotel room — no, they would have us all on the grid until the clues all were lost — the ones I am working on at any rate. Keep your head now, and don’t cross me up.”

“I won’t.”

He walked calmly out of the lobby. His taxi drew up to the loading zone. The doorman held an umbrella and opened the door with something of a flourish.

Mason stepped into the taxi and said, “All right, back to where we came from.”

He settled back in the cushions, lit a cigarette, and inhaled a deep drag.

Paul Drake had his feet on Perry’s desk and was reading the sporting section of the evening paper when the lawyer latchkeyed the door of his private office.

“Well, you made a quick trip,” Drake said, looking up.

“Where is Tragg?”

“Hasn’t shown up yet.”

Mason looked at his watch. “It has been half an hour.”

“Yeah, he should be due about any time. What was the excitement?”

Mason went over to the closet, hung up his hat and coat. “I didn’t think that Zitkousky woman would get as excitable.”

“What is the matter?”

“Oh, the chauffeur got crocked and got to making passes at her, and she used her mad money to grab a taxi and leave him. Now, she is afraid she has made an enemy out of him, and he may not give us his testimony.”