Erle Gardner - The Case of the Baited Hook

“When was the body discovered?”

“When we got there.”

“You mean — you were the one who discovered it?”

“That’s right.”

“Think Paul Drake had a hunch what you’d find?” she asked.

“No, not Paul. He’d have had a fit. The police think we find too many corpses. Paul’s jittery about it.”

“Well, you do get around, Chief,” she said.

“I have to,” he told her, grinning. “I met Mrs. Tidings out there. She’d been visiting friends in Reno and walked in on us.”

“What sort?” Della Street asked.

“Class,” Mason said. “Took it like a little soldier. Stood up and told the officers frankly that she didn’t love him, that he’d been doing everything he could to make things difficult for her, that she wanted a divorce and he wouldn’t give her one. She was a little indefinite about his methods, but he evidently had something on her.”

“Doesn’t that make her look like a logical suspect, Chief?” Della Street asked.

“That’s what the officers seem to think. They’re going to check her alibi. Holcomb put through a long distance call to Reno while I was there. Apparently, there’s no question but what she was with friends just as she said… However, I got my usual complex.”

“What do you mean?”

Mason grinned. “Made a stab in the dark,” he said, “figuring that she might hold the other part of that ten-thousand-dollar bill.”

“Any results?”

“No. She couldn’t have been the one, anyway. She left town Monday afternoon. Her friends say she arrived in Reno before daylight. The Reno police are checking up, but it sounded pretty good over the telephone. Even Holcomb accepted it… Well, let’s get Mrs. Tump and the Gailord girl in here and see how they react to the news.”

“There won’t be any need for you to represent them if Tidings is dead, will there, Chief?”

“Probably not,” he said. “I can keep an eye on things; but there’s nothing much to be done. The court will appoint another trustee.”

“Mrs. Tump?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “Probably not. It’s more apt to be some trust company. The accounts will take a lot of going over.”

“Want them in now?” Della Street asked.

“Uh huh,” Mason said, and crossed over to the washstand. He ran water into the bowl and was drying his hands on the towel when Della Street ushered in Mrs. Tump and an attractive, willowy girl whose eyes flashed about the room in a swift glance, and then registered approval as they appraised Perry Mason.

“This is Mr. Mason, Byrl,” Mrs. Tump said, and to Mason, “Byrl Gailord.”

Mason caught a glimpse of red lips parted to disclose flashing teeth, of intense black eyes, and then Byrl Gailord’s hand was in his as she smiled up in his face. “I’m afraid I’m a nuisance, Mr. Mason,” she said, “but when I told Mrs. Tump about what you’d said over the telephone — you know, about investigating a hot tip — well, we just couldn’t wait.”

“That’s quite all right,” Mason said. “The tip panned out. Won’t you sit down?”

“What was it?” Mrs. Tump asked. “What have you found out?”

Mason waited until they were seated. “Albert Tidings is dead,” he said. “We found his body stretched out on a bed in a bungalow owned by his wife. We notified the police. He’d been shot in the left side. Police can’t find the gun. There was one in his pocket, but it hadn’t been fired, and it’s the wrong caliber anyway. There was a faint smudge of lipstick on his lips.”

Byrl Gailord stifled a faint exclamation. Mrs. Tump stared at Mason with startled eyes. “You’re sure it was he?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mason said. “Mrs. Tidings identified him.”

“The body was found in her house?”

“Yes.”

“Where was she?”

“She’d been in Reno,” Mason said. “She happened to return at about the time we discovered the body.”

Byrl Gailord said, simply, “I’m glad it wasn’t suicide. I’d always have felt that we — well, hounded him into it.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Tump said.

“I couldn’t have helped feeling that way,” Byrl Gailord insisted. “I liked him a lot, although I distrusted him in some ways. I think he was the kind who would have taken a lot of financial liberties, figuring that things were going to turn out all right.”

“He was a crook,” Mrs. Tump said. “His whole record shows it.”

“He was very kind to me personally,” Byrl observed, biting her lip and fighting back tears.

“Of course he was kind to you,” Mrs. Tump said. “He was embezzling your money. Why shouldn’t he have kidded you along? You were Santa Claus.”

Byrl said, “The accounts may be out of balance, but his intentions were the best. If he’d made some poor investments, he’d have tried to plunge in order to get them back. I don’t think he’d deliberately embezzle any of my money, but I did resent his attitude towards you.”

Mrs. Tump said nothing.

“When… when did it happen?” Byrl Gailord asked, at length.

“Sometime after noon on Tuesday,” Mason said. “The coroner rushed the body to an autopsy to have an examination made that would give him an exact time.”

“And where does that leave Byrl?” Mrs. Tump asked.

“The court will appoint another trustee,” Mason said. “There’ll be a complete check-up on the accounts.”

Mrs. Tump met his eyes steadily. “Very well, Mr. Mason. Let’s be businesslike… Does this mean that we don’t need your services?”

Mason said, “Yes.”

“I don’t see why,” Byrl Gailord said.

“Because there’s nothing he can do now,” Mrs. Tump said. “There’s no need to pay Mr. Mason a fee if there’s nothing he can do.”

“That’s right,” Mason agreed.

“Isn’t there any thing you can do?” Byrl Gailord asked. “No way in which you can — well, sort of look after my interests?”

“I can keep an eye open,” Mason said. “If I find something that will justify my employment, I’ll take it up with you. The court will probably appoint some trust company as a trustee. The trust accounts will have to be carefully examined.”

“Can I be appointed?” Mrs. Tump asked.

“Perhaps,” Mason said, “but a court would be more inclined to appoint a company which had auditing facilities at its command.”

“I’d serve without compensation just to get things straightened up.”

“We’ll have to wait a few days until we can find out more about it,” Mason said. “A court might permit Miss Gailord to nominate the trustee.”

“I’d want Mrs. Tump, of course,” Byrl Gailord said.

The telephone on Mason’s desk rang sharply. Mason said, “Excuse me,” picked up the receiver, and heard the voice of his receptionist saying, “Sergeant Holcomb is here. He says he must see you immediately. There’s a man with him.”

Mason thought for a moment. “Did you tell him I was busy, Gertie?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t give him the names of my clients, did you?”

“No. Certainly not.”

“Tell him I’ll be right out,” Mason said.

He hung up the telephone and excused himself to his clients. “Sergeant Holcomb of the Homicide Squad is outside,” he said. “He wants to see me at once. I won’t be long. Excuse me, please,” and went out to the reception office, carefully closing the door of his private office behind him.

Sergeant Holcomb said, “Let’s go some place where we can talk.”

“The law library is available,” Mason said, opening the door to the long room with its shelves lined with books.

The officer nodded to the young man who was with him, and said, “All right, Mattern. Come along.”