Erle Gardner - The Case of the Empty Tin

“I tell you I didn’t telephone you,” Mrs. Gentrie said indignantly. “If you say that I did, you’re saying something that’s not so.”

“Of course,” Mason went on, “your voice sounded somewhat strained, which was only natural in view of the fact that you were hysterical, but there were certain little mannerisms of expression which were undoubtedly yours.”

“You’re crazy,” Mrs. Gentrie announced flatly.

“You also told me,” Mason said, “something which came as a very valuable piece of information — that Lieutenant Tragg had found the can I had planted on the shelf, and removed the top, that he had then placed another decoy can there. That explained a feature of the case which had hitherto puzzled me.”

Mrs. Gentrie said, “That’s true about lieutenant Tragg. He told me not to say anything about the tin; so I didn’t. I didn’t have any idea you’d put the tin there.”

Tragg turned to Mason. “You planted that?” he asked.

Mason nodded. “To help clear up the case. I could have had it solved earlier if it hadn’t been for your interference there.”

“But I put a tin back to take its place,” Tragg said, “and had the same code message copied and placed in the lid.”

Mason smiled. “But don’t you see that the person for whom the message was intended was present when you opened the tin, and so actually got the message without the necessity of having the can removed from the shelf. You crossed me up there, Lieutenant.”

Tragg frowned, looked at Mrs. Gentrie, and said, “Mrs. Gentrie, I’m going to ask you...”

“You don’t need to,” she flared. “I’ve put up with a lot of official stupidity and a lot of bungling in this case. I realize that people can’t be perfect, but I’ve never seen such utter ignorance as...”

Mason interrupted to say to Lieutenant Tragg, “Of course, she’ll make all sorts of denials — now. She wanted to lure me down here so that she could kill me — probably not here in the house, but maybe as I left my apartment. You see, she’d got that message and believed what it said. And, in case you haven’t as yet figured out the code...”

“I have,” Tragg interposed.

“Then you understand what I was trying to do?”

Tragg nodded slowly. “I didn’t realize it was a trap at the time,” he said. “I thought you were holding out on me, and I was planning to do something about that.”

Mason yawned, said, “Well, as soon as the telephone rang, I began to stall her along. I made her think I was pretty drunk. You see, Tragg, only two persons have the number of my private unlisted telephone. They are Paul Drake and Della Street; but, in an emergency the other night, we gave the number to the woman who was pretending to be Mrs. Sarah Perlin. That person must have murdered Mrs. Perlin. So when my telephone rang and it wasn’t either Della Street or Paul Drake, I knew I was talking to the murderer. I pretended that the champagne I’d taken at Rodney Wenston’s wedding had been too much for me.”

“Wenston’s wedding!” Tragg exclaimed in surprise. “Is he married?”

“You didn’t know?” Mason asked.

Tragg shook his head.

Mason said, “He married Doris Wickford. You can rest assured Wenston would never have permitted Doris Wickford to have made a claim against a full half of Elston Karr’s property without having seen to it that she couldn’t give him the horselaugh afterwards.”

“You mean Wenston was back of that?” Tragg asked.

“Of course, he was,” Mason said with an amused smile. “Karr had some money that would have belonged to Tucker’s heirs. He didn’t know, however, his dead partner had left an heir until he found it out by accident. He advertised to try and find her.

“That, of course, was too good an opportunity for Wenston to miss. He knew that he had only to fake a few letters, putting in facts which he already knew from his intimate association with Karr in order to make a pretty good claim. If he could have the claimant produce a picture of her father which would tally with that of Dow Tucker, it would make the case absolutely ironclad.

“The probabilities are that Wenston stumbled on to the person he planted as the daughter by accident, and before he got the idea of palming her off as the heiress. In all probability, Doris Wickford’s father actually did go to China, and wrote her a few letters. As a stamp collector, she had saved the envelopes. Wenston probably happened to be looking over her stamp album, and, seeing the entire envelope with its postmark and canceled stamp, got the idea. Well, Lieutenant, I’ll leave you with your case. If you’ll take Mrs. Gentrie into custody, I feel quite certain you’ll be able to work out a good case against her. And now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ll go back and try to get some sleep.”

Mason turned and started for the door.

“Look here,” Tragg said, coming after him, “you can’t walk out on me this way. I’m not certain you’ve even got a good case against Mrs. Gentrie. As far as that telephone business is concerned, it’s your word against hers.”

Mason said, “Well, I’ve given you enough stuff to work on, Lieutenant. The obvious facts are now in your command. You can let them all go now, except Mrs. Gentrie.”

One of the children began to cry. Mrs. Gentrie got slowly to her feet. “You’re not going to do this in front of my children. You’re not...”

One of the radio officers put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Sit down,” he said.

Arthur Gentrie pushed back his chair. “Now, you listen...”

Two officers held him.

Mason said, “That’s all there is to it, Lieutenant. Good night.”

He opened the door and ran rapidly down the steps.

Tragg shouted after him, “Hey, you! Mason! You’re not leaving now!” He jerked open the door and ran down the steps after the lawyer.

Perry Mason paused by the curb. Tragg came running up to him, his manner bristling with indignation. “You look here,” he said in a loud voice. “You’ve given me some ingenious theories, but...” He drew close to the lawyer, suddenly lowered his voice, said, “What is this, a trap?”

“Uh huh,” Mason said. “Come on, Tragg. We should be in at the finish.”

“Where?”

“This way.”

Mason ran lightly around the corner by the garages. “Give me a boost up the fence, Tragg,” he said, “and then I’ll pull you up.”

Tragg boosted Mason up the high board fence. Once on top, Mason reached down and gave Tragg a hand up. Together, the two men dropped silently into the dark yard between the Gentrie house and the two-flat building.

“Now what?” Tragg whispered.

“Wait,” Mason said.

They waited in the darkness for almost a minute. Then quietly the door in the garage opened, and a dark figure tiptoed silently across the yard to the side door of the Hocksley flat. A key clicked against the lock. The door was opened, and the figure slipped inside.

Mason and Tragg moved cautiously across the lot. The door was still ajar. Motioning for silence, Mason led the way into the warm darkness of the flat. Listening intently, they could hear the sound of the dial on a telephone; then, after a moment, a woman’s voice sharp with emotion said, “What kind of a game do you think you’re playing? What’s this I heard about you marrying that little devil, that... Yes, you did, too! You were married to her this morning. Well, last night then. Don’t lie to me! After all I’ve done for you, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with that. The minute you try anything like that, you’re all finished... Well, he said so... Mr. Mason... I don’t think it was a trap. No. I didn’t say a word... You wouldn’t lie to me? You dar ling No-o-o-o-o. I didn’t really believe it, not down in my heart, but I wanted to find out. I–I must get back. The officers are over there. Mason is getting awfully close to what actually happened. You’ll have to do something about him at once. Remember now, I’ve taken care of the others for you. You’ve got to do this for me. All right, lover.”