Erle Gardner - The Case of the Baited Hook

“And you mean you’d try to pin it on me in order to get that person off?”

Mason struck a match to his cigarette, blew out the flame, and smiled affably at Mattern. “Exactly,” he said.

“Do you mean to say you’d frame an innocent man…”

“Wait a moment, Carl,” Mason interrupted, stopping him with an upraised hand. “Let’s leave the innocent man out of it.”

“But I am innocent.”

“That,” Mason said, “is nothing for me to decide. That’s up to the jury.”

“But you have no reason to believe I killed him.”

Mason said, “Frankly, Carl, I don’t think you did.”

“Then why are you accusing me of it?”

“I’m not accusing you of it,” Mason said. “I’m simply telling you that you knew he was dead prior to Tuesday noon, that you covered up that death, and then started getting yourself an alibi. But you’ll find a jury isn’t going to be as charitable as I am.”

“You must be crazy!”

Mason said, “I’m willing to believe that you’re not a murderer, that you shrewdly manipulated things so you could close the sale of that Western Prospecting stock. When you found Tidings was dead, you realized you had to keep his death covered up until you could put through that deal. But what you overlooked, Carl, was that once you started tampering with the facts, a jury would conclude you were guilty of murder.”

Mattern blinked his eyes rapidly. “They couldn’t,” he said.

“Oh, yes, they could, Carl. Let’s suppose, for instance, that you had reason to believe Tidings was going to be at that bungalow on Tuesday morning. Suppose you went out with a brief case filled with mail and documents to get instructions, and suppose you found Tidings lying dead on the bed. You slipped quietly out of the house without anyone seeing you. You knew that the news of his death would put a stop to that stock deal, and so you decided to have it appear that he had died shortly after noon on Tuesday. Fortunately, my telephone call gave you an opportunity for a second string to your bow. I had never heard the voice of Albert Tidings. By a bit of vocal manipulation you were able to leave me with the impression that I had talked with Tidings over the telephone.

“You’re a very clever young man, Mattern, but you must give me credit for knowing something about the psychology of a juror. I’m telling you, Mattern, plainly and frankly, that a jury probably would convict you of Tidings’ murder purely on circumstantial evidence once that chain of facts had been brought to light. The jury would consider that you’d killed him on Tuesday morning… And that would coincide with the findings of the autopsy surgeons.”

Mason devoted his attention to watching the smoke drift up from one end of his cigarette, seeming to dismiss Mattern entirely from his mind.

After a few seconds, Mattern said, “But those things can’t be proven.”

Mason smiled. “Oh, yes, they can,” he said. “I can prove them.”

“You can?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Mason smiled and said, “I’m not going to disclose my entire hand, Mattern, but remember that you were a bit greedy and a little hasty. Realizing that the stock transaction might be open to question, you were just a little too anxious to get your split from Bolus. Peculiar chap, that Bolus. Rather selfish, I would say. Once the authorities accused him of being your accomplice in the murder, he’d move heaven and earth to show that he was your accomplice only on the stock jobbing deal, and that you alone were responsible for Tidings’ death.”

Mattern shifted his position uncomfortably in the chair.

Mason said, “Thought I’d let you know where I stood, Mattern, that’s all. I wanted to be absolutely fair.”

“What do you want me to do?” Mattern asked.

“Nothing,” Mason said, in some surprise. “Nothing at all. But I just wanted you to know that when it comes time for me to defend my client, I’ll be able to make out a pretty good case against you.”

Mattern laughed and said, “I can’t see what you’re getting at, Mr. Mason. By telling me this in advance, you’ve put yourself entirely in my power. Suppose I should relate this conversation to a jury?”

“No need for you to bother,” Mason said. “I’ll tell them about it myself. Remember, Mattern, I dropped in to tell you that I had reason to believe you knew Tidings was dead Tuesday morning before that stock transaction was concluded. Among other things, I wanted to hear your voice so I could convince myself that it was you who were talking with me over the telephone Tuesday morning. I’m convinced now.”

“A jury wouldn’t take your evidence very seriously.”

“Perhaps not,” Mason said. “It would be your word against mine.”

“And you’re interested in saving your client’s neck,” Mattern said.

“Just as you’re interested in saving your own,” Mason reminded him.

“Mine isn’t in any danger.”

“And,” Mason went on, “you’ll also remember that one of the reasons for this visit was to ask you if you had any financial interest in that stock sale of the Western Prospecting Company.”

“And I assured you that I didn’t,” Mattern said.

Mason arose, stretched, yawned, and said casually, “Know Colonel Gilliland?”

“No,” Mattern said.

“In charge of the income tax evasions detail here,” Mason said. “Charming chap. You’ll probably get acquainted with him later on.”

There was anxiety in Mattern’s eyes.

“Friend of mine,” Mason went on. “You know, the government has quite a system. If anyone gives ’em a tip on an income tax evasion, the government will investigate, and if they recover a tax on the strength of that tip, they’ll pay a reward amounting to a percentage of the tax. You can’t fool the government, you know. They can examine the records of banks and the books of corporations… Well, I’ll be running along, Mattern.”

Mattern said, “Hey, wait a minute. You aren’t going to tell this man Gilliland anything about me?”

“Why not?” Mason asked.

“Because— Well, because under the circumstances that would be the hell of a thing to do.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t I co-operated with you?”

Mason said, “It’s all right, Mattern. There’s nothing to worry about. If you didn’t get any cut out of that fifty thousand, no one can do a thing to you. Of course, Gilliland will go into the books of the Western Prospecting Company, will scrutinize Bolus’ income tax statement, check the bank records, look into your bank deposits, and work on a few other angles. He’ll make a good job of it.”

Mattern said, “Come back here, Mason. Sit down.”

Mason raised his eyebrows. “Why?”

Mattern said, “You’ve got me.”

“Got you?” Mason asked. “What do you mean?”

“I got ten grand out of that sale,” Mattern blurted.

“That’s better,” Mason observed, walking over to a chair and seating himself. “Tell me about it.”

“There’s nothing much to tell,” Mattern said meekly. “I felt like a heel all the time, but I needed the money. I just had to have it.”

“Why?” Mason asked.

“Oh, some bum hunches on horses,” Mattern said.

“Did Bolus get in touch with you?”

“No. I got in touch with him. I knew something about the stock. I put the proposition up to him. I was to interest Tidings as trustee in the stock, and get a fifty per cent cut… And it’s really a good stock at that, Mr. Mason, a very good speculative buy.”

“But you didn’t get fifty per cent?” Mason asked.

“No,” Mattern said bitterly. “Bolus, the damn crook, chiseled me. After I’d brought the parties together and got the deal so far under way that I couldn’t have backed out of it without making everyone suspicious, Bolus told me he’d been under more expense than he’d figured, that he’d have to give some banker a cut, and that I’d have to take ten thousand instead of twenty-five.”