Erle Gardner - The Case of the Empty Tin

“What did Mrs. Perlin want to confess?”

“She didn’t say. That is, the one who was talking with me didn’t have anything to say about that. She simply said that Sarah had told her to tell me she wanted to make a confession, and ask my forgiveness.”

“Ask your forgiveness!”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know who this person was?”

“No. She said she was simply passing on the message, that Sarah was busy, and...”

“Yes. You’ve gone over all that, but did this person give you any idea of who she was?”

“No. Somehow, I got the impression she was a waitress in some restaurant where Sarah had established headquarters. You know, where Sarah could stand by the door to wait and watch. She said Sarah was over at the window, watching to see if a man to whom she’d telephoned was double-crossing her.”

“You have your own car?”

“Yes. That is, it isn’t mine. It’s a car I can borrow when I need one.”

“And you parked it a half a block beyond the house up the hill?”

“Yes.”

“She distinctly told you a half block beyond the house, and up the hill, did she?”

“That’s right.”

Mason said, “That shot was instantly fatal. She’s dead. There isn’t the faintest trace of pulse. You can tell from the location of the wound and the direction of the bullet that death was virtually instantaneous. Now then, why should she have committed suicide?”

“I tell you I don’t know.”

“And why can’t you tell your story to the police?”

“Because — because I’m afraid I’m in an awful jam, Mr. Mason. Sarah was the only one who could have vouched for me in case — well, in case the police turn up certain things.”

“And you want me to suppress all of this,” and Mason included the room and the body with a sweeping gesture of his hands, “simply in order to save you from being questioned by the police?”

“It isn’t going to hurt anything if you do this for me,” she said. “There’s nothing you can do to help solve this.”

Mason studied her thoughtfully. Abruptly, he asked, “This Mrs. Perlin, was she a woman who had had much experience as a housekeeper, or had she perhaps had money at one time, run into hard luck, and had to get work as a housekeeper...?”

“No. She’d been a housekeeper for years. I remember checking on her agency card when Mr. Hocksley hired her.”

Mason strolled down the corridor toward the dining room. His hands were pushed down in his pockets, his head thrust forward. She followed him, apprehensive, silently pleading. Abruptly, Mason whirled to face her. “You know what you’re asking?” he demanded.

She said nothing as he paused, her eyes pleading eloquently, her lips motionless.

“You’re asking me to square a murder,” Mason said, “to get my neck in a noose, and you’re doing it as casually as though you were wanting to know if I wouldn’t buy you an ice cream, or sign my name in your autograph album.”

She kept looking at him, pleading with her eyes. Her hand came out to touch his arm.

Mason said, “Once I walk out of this house without calling the police, I’ve put myself in the middle of a great big spot. I’ve given you a stranglehold on me. How deeply are you mixed in this business?”

She shook her head.

“Come on. Speak up.”

“I’m not in it at all.”

Mason said, “That’s what you think. You called the police yesterday morning, didn’t you?”

“Do we have to talk here?”

“We have to do some talking here.”

“It’s dangerous just being here.”

“It’s dangerous just walking away.”

“I came to work yesterday. No one was in the house. Usually Mrs. Perlin is there, and nearly always there are some records for me.”

“Records?” Mason asked.

“You know, the wax records that have been dictated on a dictating machine.”

“Oh.”

“This morning there weren’t any records. Mrs. Perlin wasn’t there.”

“How about Hocksley?”

“I very seldom see him. He sleeps most of the day. He works rather late at night.”

“But you have seen him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“I couldn’t understand there not being any work laid out for me or any message. Then I started looking around, and I saw the door to Mr. Hocksley’s room was open. Then I saw spots of blood. I went in and saw the safe with a great pool of blood in front of it, and then I went out to the garage where we keep the car.”

“That’s in the house next door?”

“Yes. The Gentries rent Mr. Hocksley a garage.”

“And the car was there?”

“Yes; but there were bloodstains in it, all over the back seat. Really, Mr. Mason, that’s all I know. Then I called the police.”

“Why not call them now?”

“I can’t explain my being here. I can’t explain — lots of things.”

“What, for instance?”

“Things — complications that would be brought about by what’s happened here. Don’t you see. They’d think that Mrs. Perlin and I had worked together to get Mr. Hocksley out of the way.”

“Why should you want him out of the way?”

“I don’t know. I only know that’s what they’d say. It looks as though I must have had some connection with Mrs. Perlin, as though she’d communicated with me sometime today, and I hadn’t told the police.”

“She did communicate with you, didn’t she?”

“Well, in a way, yes.”

“And you didn’t tell the police?”

“She told me not to.”

Mason looked at his watch, hesitated a moment, then said, “If I do this for you, what’ll you do for me?”

She met his eyes without flinching. “What do you want?” she asked.

Mason said, “I don’t want you to run out on me if the going gets tough.”

“All right.”

“You’ll stick?”

“Yes — only — only don’t kid me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to give me a break, and then as soon as I’ve left, call the police.”

Mason said, “As far as that’s concerned, I’ll go you one better. I know a roadhouse that’s still open. I’ll buy you a drink, and a sandwich, and you can watch me to make certain I don’t even go near a telephone.”

She hugged his arm. “You don’t know what this means to me! It — it means everything!”

Mason said, “Okay, let’s go.”

“Shouldn’t we — turn the lights off?”

“No,” Mason said. “Leave things just as they are.”

“But I’m the one who turned the lights on. ”

“All right, leave them that way.”

“How about locking the doors?”

“No. Leave them just the way they are.”

“Why?”

“Suppose something happens. Suppose we’re picked up within a block by a prowl car. Suppose someone sees us leaving. We tell our story, and police find the doors locked.”

“I see. Look here, we have two cars. We can’t...”

Mason said, “You get in my car. I drive you up to your car. You get in, turn it around, and follow me for four or five blocks, park your car, get out, and go to the nightclub with me. I bring you back to where your car is parked. In that way, you’ll know I’m not doing any telephoning.”

Looking up, she said, “I think you’re wonderful. I can’t imagine why you’re doing this for me.”

Mason said, “Neither can I.”

Paul Drake, his face gray with fatigue and worry, looked across the desk at Perry Mason, and said, “Some day when you play me for a sucker, I’m going to wriggle off the hook.”

The lawyer raised his eyebrows. “Why, Paul, what’s the idea?”