Erle Gardner - Case of the Silent Partner

“No,” Mason said, “and I don’t think you’re going to have any brandy.”

She had been about to pour the liquor. Now she whirled to stare at him. “You don’t think I’m going to?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Mason said, “if you take a swig of brandy, and then that Scotch, in about twenty minutes or half an hour, you’re going to be just a little warped in your judgment. You’ll think you can get away with things that you can’t.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Where,” Mason asked, “is the fur coat that you had on when you came to the office?”

“Why, in the coat closet.”

“There in the hall?”

“Yes.”

Mason put down his drink, got up, and walked across to the door she had indicated. He opened the hall closet, and took down the hanger which held the silver fox coat she had worn to his office.

Suddenly she ran toward him. “No, no! Put that back. You can’t...”

Mason slid his hand down in the right-hand side pocket of the coat and brought out a thirty-two caliber revolver.

“I thought,” he said, “there was something heavy in your pocket when you came to the office.”

As though his discovery had deprived her of the power to move, she stood motionless and silent.

Mason broke open the gun, saw that one shell had been fired. He smelled of the barrel, closed the gun, hung up the fur coat in the closet, carefully closed the door, walked across to his chair, and dropped into it. He placed the gun on a taboret by the side of the chair, picked up his drink, and said to Mildreth Faulkner, “Here’s how.”

She walked back to the place where she had left her Scotch and soda, without once taking her eyes from him. Then she moved over to stand over the floor heater. “Can I... Can I drink this?”

“Sure,” Mason said. “Go ahead. That will do you good. Just don’t overdo it.”

She drained a good half of the glass, kept watching him with wide, frightened eyes.

“It is rather cool for this time of year,” Mason said. “I’ve noticed when the days are warm and dry, there’s usually a wind in from the desert, and that makes the nights cool off rapidly. Your fur coat should have kept you warm.”

She said, “I got frightfully c-c-cold. I’m having a nervous ch-ch-chill right now.”

“The whiskey will warm you up,” Mason said casually. “How long have you had the gun?”

“Two years.”

“Got a permit for it?”

“Yes.”

“Buy it here in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what ballistics experts are able to do with bullets?”

“No. What?”

“Every bullet fired from a gun bears an unmistakable identification which can be imprinted on it only by that one weapon.”

“Are you trying to tell me that as — as my lawyer so you can warn me...”

“I’m not your lawyer.”

“You’re not? Why, I thought...”

He shook his head. “Not on this case.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know enough about it. I don’t go around selling myself. My brains aren’t a commodity like a motor car which anyone can buy who has the price. A person can buy a bulletproof car and use it to help hold up a bank, but he can’t buy my knowledge of law to use in committing a crime.”

“Mr. Mason, you aren’t serious? You don’t think I killed him?”

“I don’t know. Even if you did, it might be justifiable homicide. All that I’m telling you is that I’m not going to represent you until I know the facts.”

“You mean...”

Mason looked at his wrist watch impatiently and said, “I mean the police will be here almost any minute. If I’m going to represent you, I should know it before then. If there are any weak spots in your story, a little rehearsal wouldn’t hurt any. Go ahead.”

“I don’t want you to represent me.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I want you to represent Carlotta, my sister.”

“What’s she got to do with it?”

Mildreth was silent for several seconds, then said, quickly, “Listen, Mr. Mason, if you’re Carlotta’s lawyer, and I tell you the whole story, they can’t ever make you tell, can they?”

Mason said, “Anything you tell me, goes no farther.”

“But is it legal? If I tell you something, and you’re Carla’s attorney...”

“Legality be damned,” Mason said. “Don’t stand there and quibble. If I’m going to do anything, I have to know what the hell it’s all about.”

“Well,” she said, “the story is simple. I ran over to see Carla and Bob tonight. I had a talk with Bob, and told him I wanted to get that stock in the morning, that Peavis had shown up with the five shares. And Bob was so casual about the whole thing, but had so many reasons why he just couldn’t get me that stock, that I became suspicious and — well, I’m not certain. I think perhaps Carla was listening from the head of the stairs.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “Make it snappy.”

“Well, you know what must have happened. Bob had pledged that stock. He had to get it back just to show me anyway. He must have rushed out to see Lynk.”

“What makes you think he did?”

“I... this gun.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I got to thinking things over and decided to have another talk with Bob after what I’d learned from Esther Dilmeyer. I thought it would simplify matters a lot if I could walk into your office and tell you just what the situation was, and...”

“Never mind what you thought. What did you do? ”

“I went out to see Bob.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. He wasn’t there.”

“Where was Carla?”

“She wasn’t there.”

“Perhaps they both went out.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. Carla has been confined to the house for months. She’s been in bed for more than two months. Now she’s getting around the house a bit, and occasionally she goes for a ride.”

“Perhaps Bob took her for a ride.”

“No. Her own car’s gone.”

“You think she drove it?”

“I’m sure she did. No one else ever drives it.”

Mason said, “Bob went some place. You think he went to see Lynk. Now where do you think your sister went?”

“I think she followed him.”

“You think Bob killed Lynk?”

“I think Carla... I don’t know what did happen.”

“All right, where did you get the gun?”

“Well, when I went there the second time and found they were gone, I looked around some. I found this gun on Carla’s dresser.”

“I thought you said it was your gun.”

“It is, but I let Carla have it two months ago. She was left in the house alone quite a bit, and I wanted her to have some protection.”

“Bob was going out?”

“Yes. You couldn’t expect him to give up everything and become just a stay-at-home because Carla was an invalid. No one expected that, and — well, you know how it is. I suppose he... well, he...”

“Played around?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“Was the gun on the dresser when you were there earlier in the evening?”

“No. And — well, a few of Carla’s things were gone. I didn’t notice them right at first, but I got to looking around and some of her medicines and a few of her clothes were gone.”

“What do you think happened?” Mason asked.

Words poured out in hysterical rapidity. “I think that she followed Bob out to Lynk’s place. I think Bob had my gun and killed him. I think Carla knows it. Good Heavens, I wish I knew where she was! I’m worried absolutely sick about her. It was bad enough for her to get out of bed and drive her car, but the shock of finding out about Bob, of knowing about the murder, of... it’s awful.”