Erle Gardner - The Case of the Empty Tin

Tragg took a deep breath, looked across at Karr.

Karr said somewhat scornfully to Blaine, “You can keep your gossip to yourself. Your ideas of what I’m doing are crazy.”

Blaine shrugged his shoulders, said, “I’m hired by you. I do a good job for you. I want to keep on doing a good job for you, but I know which side of the bread has the butter. I’m not going to tangle up with the police department.”

“Where, may I ask, did you get your information?” Karr asked coldly. “Been snooping?”

Blaine said indignantly, “I haven’t been snooping. I got it from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“From little things you did, little hints you let drop, the expression on your face,” Blaine said impatiently. “After all, I’ve been a private detective, and I was a cop before that. What the hell do you think? That I’m going to associate with someone for a year and then not know what I’m hired to protect him against? Nuts!”

Tragg got up, walked over to the window, stood looking out, his hands pushed down into his pockets; then he whirled to regard Perry Mason. “Personally, Mason, I think it’s a runaround. I’m not saying anything — not yet. It’s getting so that whenever we’re working on a case and you come into the picture, the hot trail we’re following develops a habit of running back to the starting point so that we’re tearing around in circles. It’s nothing except coincidence, yet — but it’s a hell of a lot of coincidence.”

“Speaking of running around in circles,” Mason said, “did you come up here to pay this visit simply because you thought Miss Wickford was here and could give you some information on Karr’s past connections?”

Miss Wickford said, “Don’t be silly. Lieutenant Tragg couldn’t have known I was going to be here, because I didn’t know it myself until the moment I picked up the paper and...”

“I came up here to ask questions,” Tragg interrupted.

“Exactly,” Mason said, “and, I take it, they were rather important questions; and since this interesting information which has been uncovered about Karr’s former partner has been purely fortuitous, I naturally am wondering just what really caused this visit. Or is Miss Wickford an undercover associate?”

Tragg said, “Well, I’ll relieve your curiosity on that, Mason. I came up here to find out about a telephone.”

“What telephone?” Mason asked.

“A telephone which seems to have been something more than a telephone, one in which I thought Karr might have some interest.”

Karr said wearily, “I’m not interested in telephones. I’m a sick man, and the experiences of the afternoon haven’t done me any good.”

Gow Loong said, “Massah should have gone bed long time ago. Maybe-so go now.”

Karr said, “All right, Gow Loong.”

“Just a moment,” Tragg ordered. “I want to ask a couple more questions.”

“Massah sick,” Gow Loong said. “No can talk.”

“About that telephone,” Tragg insisted, putting a hand on Karr’s wheelchair.

“What about the telephone?” Karr asked, his voice gone flat with weariness.

Tragg said, “We have reason to believe that the person who committed that murder had a very definite reason for lifting the telephone receiver.”

Mason avoided Tragg’s eyes.

Karr said, “I suppose he wanted to call someone. You have to lift the receiver to do that, you know.”

“When we first examined that telephone,” Tragg went on, ignoring Karr’s sarcasm, “we noticed only an ordinary desk telephone with two fingerprints which had been outlined in paint on the receiver. Then we made a more detailed investigation and found something which is very peculiar, to say the least.”

Karr said, “Don’t beat around the bush. If you’re trying to accuse me of something, come out and say so.”

Mason said, “He’s just trying to surprise you into an admission of something, Mr. Karr. It’s the way the police work. Apparently a person’s poor health doesn’t change their methods.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Tragg said, ignoring Mason’s interpolation, “but I’m telling you what we found.”

“Well, what did you find?”

“Concealed in the base of that telephone in such a way that it would hardly be noticeable on a superficial examination was a small hole. The telephone was bolted to the desk, which was unusual. We further found that the desk was screwed to the floor so that the telephone and desk were held in one position. That aroused our suspicions. We made a careful examination and found that the base of the telephone contained a very ingenious burglar alarm, a ray of invisible light which could be switched on so that it played across the door of that room. The only way the connection could be broken was by throwing a switch which was on the far side of the light beam, or by picking up the telephone receiver and lifting it from its cradle, which automatically had the effect of cutting off the beam of light.”

Karr said, “It doesn’t mean a damned thing to me. I fail to see why you are telling me about it.”

“Because,” Tragg went on patiently, “when any person walked across this beam of light without first lifting the telephone receiver, it caused a buzzer on the screen porch of the lower flat to sound. And that buzzer, Mr. Karr, was fastened to the side of the house so that it was directly below your bedroom window! ”

Karr placed his thin, wasted hand on the arm of the chair, gripped it so that the cords stood out plainly under the skin of the back of his hand. “Buzzer — under my window. Then that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“That must have been what wakened me first, before I heard anything. I heard a peculiarly insistent sound which was like the buzzing of mosquitoes. It was high-pitched, distinctly audible, very irritating to a man of my nervous temperament. I kept listening, thinking at first it was a mosquito in the room, then realized that the sound was coming from outside of my window.”

“How long did it continue?” Tragg asked.

“Some little time. I don’t know how long it had been going before I woke up.”

“How long before you heard the shots?”

Karr said firmly, “There was only one shot.”

Tragg sighed. “I take it,” he said, “I am indebted for the other shot to the versatile mind of Mr. Mason.”

Karr said testily, “You are indebted for the extra shot to what I told Mr. Mason. At the time, I thought there might have been two shots. Since then, and on thinking it over, I have come to the conclusion that there was only one shot, and perhaps an echo from the side of the adjoining house.”

“And how about the buzzing?” Tragg asked.

“The buzzing,” Karr said, “continued for a few minutes after the sound of the shot, and then ceased.”

“Think carefully. Did you hear it again?”

“No,” Karr said positively. “I didn’t hear it after that.”

Tragg studied him for a moment, then said, “It would have simplified matters if you’d told me this stuff when I first questioned you.”

Karr, staring right back at him, said, “And it would have simplified matters if you’d told me about the telephone receiver.”

“I didn’t know about the burglar alarm then.”

“And I didn’t know that the buzzing of a mosquito was important.”

“Then there was only one shot?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion now there was only one shot.”

“Do you know what time it was?”

“I can’t tell you exactly, no. It was sometime after midnight, and I would say before one o’clock. And now if you’ll excuse me, Lieutenant, I’m going to retire. I’m not going to drive myself past the danger point for anyone. I’ve already put up with more than I should.”