Erle Gardner - Case of the Silent Partner

“Any description?” Mason asked.

“None whatever. It was while the place was jammed with late evening package deliveries. The clerk remembers she was a woman, and that’s all.”

“Or a man dressed in a woman’s clothes?”

“Not likely. I figure it’s a woman’s crime. Poison is a woman’s weapon, anyway. A man will use a gun, knife, or club.”

“Fingerprints?”

“Only those of Esther Dilmeyer. The poisoner wore gloves.”

“You’re certain of the identity of the paper with that at the Golden Horn?”

“Absolutely. What’s more, the label with the address glued on was typewritten in Lynk’s own office. His typewriter wrote the address, beyond any doubt.”

Mason frowned. “Damned strange,” he said. “Esther Dilmeyer could have told about that card and cleared Miss Faulkner.”

“You forget Esther was supposed to go to sleep and never wake up.”

“Yes. I guess that must have been it,” Mason agreed, but his voice showed he was dubious. “It’s a clumsy crime, and yet it isn’t... Lynk could have done it very easily.”

“Well,” Tragg said, “I think the murder is more important. This candy was sent by a woman who has access to various places in the Golden Horn. She knows very little about poisons, hates Esther Dilmeyer, and was there when the Faulkner orchids came in. The card dropped out. Perhaps Esther didn’t see it. This woman picked it up. When Esther wakes up, she’ll be able to give me the low-down. In the meantime, I want to get this murder cleaned up.”

“Well, don’t let me detain you.”

“You’re not,” Tragg said, smiling. “I’m just getting warmed up with you. I have some other questions to ask.”

“Go right ahead,” Mason said. “Take up all of my time you want. I haven’t a thing to do when you leave except make out a social security report, a workman’s compensation insurance report, and dig up some information the government wants on my income tax. Then I write the state about a social security question, and it will be time to go home. I wish someone could persuade the government its cut out of my income would be greater if it left me with a little time to do some work for myself.”

Tragg laughed. “I figured it out from the evidence I had that Mrs. Lawley was skipping out. I decided she hadn’t had sufficient time to pack up many of her personal belongings. I felt certain that she’d buy at least some articles of clothing because she’d be afraid to go back to the house.

“I thought she’d either go to her bank to get a check cashed, or to some department store where she had credit. I located her bank and her department store early this morning, and put a man on the job at each place. Now then, a short time ago a woman went into the department store where Mrs. Lawley has an account, and instead of buying something and having it charged as I had anticipated, went directly to the cashier’s window to have a travelers’ check cashed. The cashier gave the prearranged code signal which was to summon my man to the office. As it happened, I was in the store at the time. In some way, the woman got wise and beat it. Now then, Mason, here’s the significant thing. That woman wasn’t Carlotta Lawley.”

“You’re certain?” Mason asked, keeping his eyes away from Della Street.

“Yes. The signature on the check is a forgery. The woman’s description doesn’t answer that of Mrs. Lawley at all. Mrs. Lawley is older, has heart trouble, moves slowly, and is a little flabby. This girl was young, attractive, fast-moving, quick-thinking, alert, and on her toes.”

“Indeed,” Mason muttered.

“You don’t seem much interested,” Tragg said.

“Should I be?”

“Yes,” Tragg said. “Bob Lawley murdered his wife.”

“I don’t follow you, Lieutenant.”

“His wife evidently had a book of travelers’ checks which she carried in her purse. If she wanted to raise money for an emergency, she’d go cash those checks anywhere. The fact that they’re in the hands of another woman who is signing Mrs. Lawley’s name is a pretty good indication that something has happened to Carlotta Lawley.”

Mason said, “That’s a pretty tall deduction from one bit of evidence.”

“Well, there’s one other thing.”

“What?”

“An officer tagged a car for overtime parking this morning. The officer took a look at the registration certificate. It was Carlotta Lawley’s car.”

“Find out anything from the car?” Mason asked.

“Yes. I fingerprinted it. I found out that someone had parked the car and then carefully wiped off every fingerprint on it.”

Mason raised his eyebrows.

“You can figure what that means. She’d never have done that.”

“Why?”

“It was her car. It was registered in her name. There was no reason for her to rub off her fingerprints. Her name was written on the registration certificate.”

“I see.”

“But, if her husband had killed her, taken the body out, and dumped it some place, and brought the car back, he’d have wiped off his fingerprints. That’s the instinctive reaction of a guilty man these days.”

“Yes,” Mason said thoughtfully, “there’s an element of logic there. How about that alibi of Magard’s? Is it good?”

“Magard was with Peavis from right around eleven o’clock until about five minutes to twelve. Peavis remembers the time because the appointment was made at ten-thirty and was for eleven o’clock, which, of course, was rather unusual. They talked until nearly midnight, then Magard left.”

“No one knows the exact time?”

“No. Peavis remembers hearing the clock strike midnight, and thinks it was just about five minutes after Magard left.”

“What time did Magard get into the Golden Horn?”

“Around a quarter past twelve.”

“When was the murder committed?”

“Just about midnight.”

“And Coll?”

“Coll was trying to find Bob Lawley. Bob had telephoned him an SOS earlier in the evening.”

“Did he find him?”

“No.”

“Why not figure he was looking up in Lilac Canyon?”

Tragg said, “I’m sorry, Mason, but you can’t divert my suspicions. There’s too much evidence the other way. For another thing, if Coll had done it, he’d have had a better explanation of what he’d done with his time.”

Mason was thoughtful for several seconds, then said, “I don’t like him, Tragg. I figure he had something to do with that poisoned candy. He could have had an accomplice — a woman. He’s the sort who would work through a woman.”

“I’m not giving him a clean bill of health,” Tragg said. “I’m just using him.”

“How long would it have taken Magard to get to Lilac Canyon from the place where he left Peavis, and how long would it have taken Coll?”

“From Peavis’ apartment to Lynk’s place, six and a half minutes. From Coll’s apartment, fifteen minutes. I timed it with a stop watch.”

“How long from Peavis’ apartment to the Golden Horn?”

“Twenty-one minutes.”

The telephone rang. Della Street said, “Hello... Yes...” glanced at Perry Mason, and said, “I think he’ll want to talk with you himself. Hold the line, please.”

She gave Mason a significant glance and pushed the telephone over to him.

Mason said, “Hello,” and heard Mildreth Faulkner’s voice, high-pitched with excitement, saying, “Mr. Mason, can you come at once?”

“What’s the matter?”

“I must see you. I must! I must! I’ve heard from Carlotta.”

“You have?”

“Yes. She telephoned me. Bob was with her... and her heart went bad while she was talking on the telephone. I heard her gasp, and I heard Bob say, ‘Oh, my God,’ then he hung up the telephone.”