Case of the Silent Partner

Chapter 13

Judge Grosbeck, who had called court to order, looked over the tops of his spectacles at Perry Mason. “Peavis versus Faulkner Flower Shops,” he said. “Order to show cause. Frank Labley of Labley & Cutten for the plaintiff. Perry Mason for the defendant.”

Frank Labley said promptly, “Ready for the plaintiff,” and glanced across to where Mason was seated.

“And ready for the defendant,” Mason announced.

Labley showed surprise. “You mean you’re ready to go ahead on the order to show cause?”

“Exactly.”

“The notice,” Judge Grosbeck pointed out to Mason, “was rather short. You are entitled to one continuance as of course, Counselor.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I’m ready.”

Labley slowly got to his feet. “Your Honor, this comes as a distinct surprise. It’s almost a matter of routine where the notice given is so short for the defendant to ask for a continuance.”

Mason seemed completely disinterested.

Judge Grosbeck said sternly, “However, Counselor, this is the time heretofore fixed for the hearing of the restraining order. The defendant is entitled to one continuance as of course, but you are not.”

“I understand, Your Honor, but — well— Very well, I’ll do the best I can.”

“Have any counter affidavits been filed?” the judge asked Mason.

“No, Your Honor. I wish to call some witnesses.”

“How long will it take you to examine those witnesses?”

“Some little time.”

“The court would much prefer to have the matter submitted upon affidavits and citation of authorities.”

“In view of the short time which was given me, Your Honor, it was impossible for me to prepare affidavits.”

“I will grant you a continuance to enable you to prepare counter affidavits.”

“But I don’t care for a continuance, unless counsel stipulates the restraining order may be vacated in the meantime.”

Frank Labley jumped to his feet, his manner indicative of indignation. Judge Grosbeck waved him down to his chair, smiled, and said, “Very well, Mr. Mason. The court will hear your witnesses.”

Labley said, “I’ll stand on my affidavits and the verified complaint in the case for my showing, except that I may bring matters out on cross-examination of the witnesses called — and, of course, reserving the right to put on rebuttal testimony.”

“Very well. Proceed, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “I will call the plaintiff, Mr. Peavis.”

Peavis slouched forward, held up his right hand, was sworn, and took the witness chair, where he sat regarding Mason with calm hostility.

“You’re the plaintiff in this action, Mr. Peavis, are you not?”

“Just a moment,” Labley interposed, jumping to his feet before Peavis could answer the question. “Before any questions are answered, I feel I am entitled to know whether Mr. Mason has produced in court the stock certificate in response to the subpoena duces tecum.”

Mason bowed. “I have it here,” he said.

“That identical stock certificate?” Labley asked with surprise.

“Yes.”

Labley sat down, looking rather dazed.

A plain-clothes officer, sprawled out in the back row of chairs, suddenly straightened, got to his feet, and tiptoed from the courtroom.

Judge Grosbeck regarded Mason with thoughtful silence.

“Answer the question,” Mason said to Peavis.

“Yes, I am.”

“You have been trying to buy an interest in the Faulkner Flower Shops for some time, have you not?”

“I have.”

“You knew that certain shares of stock were in the name of Carlotta Lawley?”

Peavis said, “Let’s save a little time, Mr. Mason. I’m a businessman. I saw there was an opportunity to get control of the Faulkner Flower Shops. I knew that I couldn’t buy the stock myself. I approached Harvey J. Lynk and told him that I’d pay a certain price for the stock if he could get it.”

“Mr. Lynk was a gambler?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I made him an offer for the stock. He advised me that he had it.”

“Ah,” Mason said, his tone showing his interest. “Let’s have that answer again, Mr. Reporter.”

The court reporter read the answer.

Peavis said hastily, “That is, I told Lynk to get it for me.”

“Now, let’s get this straight,” Mason said. “Did you tell him you’d pay a certain price for the stock, or did you tell him to get it for you?”

“Objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. It’s argumentative, a mere question of splitting hairs.”

Mason smiled. “It goes to the very gist of the action, Your Honor. If Mr. Peavis hired Mr. Lynk to get the stock for him as his agent, then the moment the stock came into Mr. Lynk’s possession, the title really vested in Mr. Peavis.”

Peavis nodded vehemently.

“If, on the other hand,” Mason went on, “Peavis merely communicated to Lynk a willingness to pay a certain price for the stock, and Lynk secured the stock, but it was taken from his possession before he had an opportunity to sell to Mr. Peavis, then Peavis had no title. He hoped to buy the stock. He had no vested interest in it.”

“That,” Judge Grosbeck ruled, “is quite apparently the law.”

Peavis said, “I’ll gladly answer that question. I hired Mr. Lynk as my agent to get the stock.”

“Did you give him any money?”

“Well, no. But he knew that the money would be forthcoming as soon as he had reason to call for it.”

“You mean as soon as he had the stock?”

“Well—” Peavis glanced at his lawyer, then glanced hurriedly away.

“Can’t you answer that question?” Mason asked.

“No,” Peavis said. “The stock didn’t have anything to do with the payment of money. I hired him to get the stock. He was my agent.”

“And how did you get in touch with Mr. Lynk?”

“Objected to,” Labley said promptly, “as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. It makes no difference how the plaintiff made his contacts with Mr. Lynk. The point is that he made them.”

“Of course,” Judge Grosbeck pointed out, “this man is an interested party, a hostile witness, a...”

“If the court please,” Mason interrupted, “I’ll be willing to hold the question in abeyance. I don’t wish to take up the court’s time unduly. I’ll let Mr. Peavis step down, and call another witness.

“If subsequent testimony makes it necessary for me to examine Mr. Peavis on this point, I think the court will appreciate, by that time, the relevancy of the facts sought to be ascertained.”

“I don’t see how they can be pertinent,” Labley insisted.

“Well, we’ll let the question remain in abeyance as Mr. Mason has suggested,” Judge Grosbeck ruled.

Mason said, “Step down, Mr. Peavis. Mr. Coll, will you take the stand please?”

Sindler Coll took the oath as a witness with manifest reluctance. He seated himself on the witness stand and appeared very ill at ease.

“How long have you known Mr. Peavis?” Mason asked as soon as the witness had given his name and address to the court reporter.

“Almost ten years.”

“What’s your occupation?”

“I’m a sharpshooter.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I speculate. Wherever I see an opportunity to make a profit, I pounce on it.”

“And Peavis approached you with reference to getting this stock?”

“He did.”

“And you had a conversation with Peavis as to what he was ready to do, and then you passed that word on to Mr. Lynk, did you not?”

“That’s right.”

“In other words, you acted as the go-between?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, so far as you know, Mr. Peavis never met Mr. Lynk.”

“Well... yes, sir, I think he did.”

“Oh, he did?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When?”

“Well, that was the night of the tenth.”

“The night Lynk was murdered?”

“Well, he was murdered early — no, I guess that’s right. I guess he was murdered at midnight of the tenth.”

“How do you fix the time?”

“On what I’ve read in the papers.”

“When did you last see Mr. Lynk?”

“On the afternoon of the tenth.”

“About what time?”

“About three o’clock.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said he wanted to talk with Peavis.”

“And what did you do?”

“I got Peavis.”

“Did you sit in on the conversation?”

“I did.”

“What was discussed?”

Coll shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well,” he said, “Lynk told Peavis that he could get, or was getting the stock, and for Peavis to be there with his money to pick it up.”

“What do you mean by there?”

Coll said, “I didn’t mean to say that. I just meant that Harvey wanted Peavis to have the money all ready.”

“In other words, without the money, Lynk didn’t intend to deliver the stock?”

“I don’t know. I...”

“It’s hearsay anyway,” Labley said.

Mason shook his head. “No, Counselor, it calls for a conclusion of the witness. I’ll withdraw it.”

Judge Grosbeck smiled.

“So,” Mason said musingly, “Lynk told Peavis to be there with the money.”

“That’s right.”

Labley cleared his throat. “I am wondering if the witness understood that question.”

“We’ll have it read to him,” Mason said.

The court reporter read the question and answer, and Coll said quickly, “No, no, that isn’t right. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t say that Lynk told him to be there with the money. That’s a word that the lawyer has put into my mouth.”

Mason smiled. “In any event, Mr. Coll,” he said, “Lynk wanted Peavis to be out there at Lilac Canyon with the money, didn’t he? Whether it was to be given as compensation for services performed or as the purchase price of stock?”

“I... well... I don’t know what he wanted. I can’t remember exactly what was said.”

Mason said, “That’s all.”

Labley said, “In Lilac Canyon, Mr. Coll?”

Coll jumped as though a pin had been stuck into him. “No, no,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. No, certainly not. He didn’t say anything about Lilac Canyon. He just said — well, he said Peavis had better get his dough ready because the stock was in his hands.”

“Did Mr. Lynk tell Mr. Peavis where to bring that money?” Labley asked.

“No, sir. He did not.”

Labley hesitated a moment, glanced dubiously at the frankly skeptical face of Judge Grosbeck, and said, “That’s all.”

The judge settled back in his chair and half closed his eyes, knowing that the preliminary having been laid, it would be good procedure for Mason to clamp down on Coll and rattle him with a running fire of cross-examination before he could recover his self-possession. The judge, who had every intention of giving Mason plenty of leeway, composed his features into an expression of judicial impassivity.

But Mason surprised everyone by saying, “That’s all, Mr. Coll.”

Coll avoided Labley’s eyes as he left the witness stand.

“Esther Dilmeyer,” Mason said.

She came forward and held up her hand to be sworn — very chic in a soft black wool jacket dress and a tiny black hat. The only touch of color was a gold pin at her throat and a matching bracelet on her left wrist.

Judge Grosbeck looked at her curiously. Labley seemed somehow ill at ease.

Mason said, “Your Honor, this young woman has just been discharged from the hospital. An attempt was made to poison her, and her recovery was...”

“The court understands the facts generally,” Judge Grosbeck said, looking at Esther Dilmeyer.

She gave her name and address to the court reporter, and smiled at Mr. Mason.

“Miss Dilmeyer,” Mason said casually, “you’re acquainted with Mr. Peavis?”

“Yes.”

“And have been for some time?”

“Well, a few weeks.”

“And, at his suggestion, you made it a point to become acquainted with Mr. Robert Lawley?”

“No.”

“No?” Mason asked, raising his eyebrows.

“No, sir.”

“Who did make that suggestion?”

Labley jumped to his feet. “Your Honor,” he said, “it is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial.”

Judge Grosbeck looked at Mason curiously. “I’d be glad to hear from you on that point, Mr. Mason,” he said.

Mason’s manner was quietly matter-of-fact. He said, “Your Honor, there are two horns to the dilemma which confronts the plaintiff in this action. Either he can appear in the rôle of holding himself out as a prospective purchaser for the stock in question, in which event the fact that Lynk died before the stock could be sold leaves the plaintiff with no right whatever to maintain his action; or he can adopt the position that Lynk was his agent, purchasing the stock for the plaintiff in this action. That is the only theory on which he can maintain the present action. The minute he adopts that theory, he becomes responsible for everything which Lynk, as his agent, did. Now then, in place of seeking a legal remedy, he has sought an equitable remedy. He is now in a court of equity. It is an axiom that he who comes to equity must come with clean hands. If the actions of his agent, Lynk, in obtaining this stock were such as to shock the conscience, if he employed illegal means, or if he resorted to entrapment, fraud, or oppression, then the plaintiff is not entitled to an equitable remedy because the courts of equity won’t let him cross the threshold.”

Judge Grosbeck nodded.

Labley jumped to his feet. “Why, Your Honor, I don’t understand such to be the law.”

“It is,” Judge Grosbeck said, with calm finality.

“But Peavis didn’t know anything about what Lynk was doing.”

“If Lynk was his agent,” Judge Grosbeck said, “it was his duty to notify Peavis of everything he was doing. His actions were for the benefit of Peavis. Peavis can’t accept the benefit of those actions and refuse to assume the responsibility.”

Labley sat down slowly, cautiously, as though after what had happened, it would not have surprised him if the chair had suddenly been jerked out from under him.

Mason said, “I’ll put it this way, Miss Dilmeyer. You were told that Mr. Lawley owned some stock in a company which Peavis wanted. You were, therefore, asked to be nice to Lawley and...”

“No one told me any such thing,” she said.

Mason raised his eyebrows. “They didn’t?”

“No.”

“How did you get acquainted with Mr. Lawley?”

“I was told to cultivate his acquaintance.”

“By whom?”

“By Mr. Coll,” she said.

Labley smiled triumphantly.

“And Peavis had nothing whatever to do with Mr. Coll. Coll was not his agent,” Labley said to the judge.

“That,” Judge Grosbeck remarked, “remains to be determined.”

“Now then,” Mason said, “on the night that Mr. Lynk was murdered, did you hear any conversation between Lynk and Coll about the stock?”

“Not that night. That afternoon.”

“What did Mr. Lynk say?”

“Lynk said that he had the stock in his possession, that if Peavis wanted to get hold of it, he’d have to meet him before midnight with cold, hard cash, that Lynk didn’t want any checks. He wanted cash.”

“You heard that conversation?” Mason asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where did it take place?”

“In the Golden Horn.”

“That’s a nightclub?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where in the Golden Horn did the conversation take place?”

“In an upstairs — well, in an upstairs suite of rooms.”

“And after you had heard that conversation,” Mason said, “an attempt was made on your life, is that right?”

“I object,” Labley shouted. “That is an attempt to prejudice the court. It is a plain intimation that my client has resorted to an attempted murder in order to enable him to buy a few shares of stock in a corporation.”

Judge Grosbeck looked at Mason with cold, judicial impassivity. “Counselor,” he asked ominously, “is it your contention that there is a connection between the two events?”

Mason said, “If the court will bear with me, I think that perhaps we will uncover some rather valuable evidence. The question relates only to a point of time. Your Honor is far too experienced to be influenced by insinuations which are not substantiated. It is not as though a jury were trying the case.”

Judge Grosbeck nodded. “Proceed,” he said.

“Answer the question,” Mason ordered Esther Dilmeyer.

She said, “Yes,” in a very low voice.

“Now,” Mason said, “your manner of eating candy is rather unusual, isn’t it? You eat piece after piece, very rapidly?”

“Well, perhaps, yes.”

“How long have you had that habit?”

“Ever since I was nineteen when I had a job in a candy factory,” she said with a smile.

“You learned to eat candy in that way while employed there?”

“Yes,” she said, and laughed lightly. “The girls weren’t supposed to eat any of the candy on which they were working, but — well, I didn’t like the boss and thought I was getting even with him.”

“I see,” Mason said with a smile. “Now, someone must have known of your propensities for eating one piece of candy right after another.”

She hesitated, then shook her head.

“You’ll have to speak up,” Judge Grosbeck said, “so the court reporter can take down your answer.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think anyone — oh, perhaps some of my intimate friends... Irma Radine for one.”

“And is Mr. Lawley an intimate friend?”

“No,” she said quickly.

“Mr. Coll?”

“No,” and her tone was sharply defiant.

“Mr. Magard, perhaps?”

She said, “Mr. Magard is an employer rather than a friend.”

“But he knows about the way you eat candy?”

She hesitated, disliking to give an affirmative answer which would make a plain implication. Judge Grosbeck was leaning across the big mahogany desk now, looking down at the witness, studying her facial expressions. Frank Labley, plainly puzzled, apprehensive of the manner in which the hearing was developing, quite apparently afraid to try to stop the proceedings by objections, sat forward on the edge of his chair, turning his head from the witness to Mason, then back to the witness.

“Answer the question,” Mason said.

“Mr. Magard knew that I had worked in a candy factory.”

“How did he know that?”

“He hired me.”

“That is, you were working in the candy factory when Mr. Magard hired you to work in the Golden Horn?”

“No. He looked up my record.”

“And you don’t consider Mr. Coll an intimate friend?”

“No.”

“He was at one time?”

“Well... well, it depends on what you call a friend.”

“And how about Mr. Lawley? He was at one time?”

“Well, not — oh, I guess so.”

“Did Mr. Peavis ever give you candy?”

“Yes. Several times. He’s nice.”

“And saw you eating it?”

“Yes.”

Mason said, “I think, Your Honor, that now I will ask for a continuance until tomorrow morning. I am, of course, aware that it is a matter addressed to the discretion of the court and...”

“No objection on our part,” Labley interposed hurriedly.

“Very well,” Judge Grosbeck ruled. “Pursuant to stipulation of counsel the matter is continued until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

For a moment it seemed that Judge Grosbeck wanted to ask a question of Esther Dilmeyer, then he quite evidently changed his mind and decided to continue in his rôle of judicial impassivity. He rose and walked into his chambers.

Magard walked down the aisle of the courtroom from the seat where he had been an interested spectator. He went directly to Mason. His manner was truculent. “What,” he asked, “is the idea of trying to drag me into that candy business?”

“I didn’t,” Mason said, standing up at the counsel table, pushing documents down into his brief case. “I merely asked questions. The witness answered them.”

“Well, you asked them in a funny way.”

Mason smiled. “It’s a habit I have, particularly when I’m dealing with people who try to dictate to me.”

Magard moved a step closer. His appraisal of the lawyer was coldly hostile. In such a manner might an expert hangman survey a condemned prisoner, studying his build, his weight, the muscles of his neck.

“Well?” Mason asked.

Magard said, “I don’t like it,” turned abruptly on his heel, and walked away.

Mildreth Faulkner walked over to put her hand on Mason’s arm. “I probably don’t appreciate the fine legal points, but it seems to me you have them guessing.”

Mason said, “I think I’m on the track of something. Did you see Carlotta?”

The animation left her face. She nodded, and tears glistened in her eyes.

“How is she?”

“Pretty bad. After they got her to the receiving hospital, the doctor took charge. He said that for at least forty-eight hours she was to have no visitors. He made an exception in my case because she kept asking for me, and he thought it would make her feel better. He warned me I mustn’t talk about the case.”

“Did you?”

“Not exactly. But she had some things to tell me. I tried to stop her at first, but then decided it was better for her to talk and get it off her chest. It seemed to be worrying her.”

“What in particular?” Mason asked.

“They trapped her into admitting that she’d given you the stock certificate. They told her that you’d put yourself in the clear by turning it over to the police. Mr. Mason, how can police be so absolutely brutal, so utterly unscrupulous?”

“They figure they’re dealing with criminals and the ends justify the means.”

“Well, that’s no way to cope with crime. They lie and resort to brutality. They can’t ever get people’s respect doing that. They’re almost as bad as the criminals.”

Mason said, “You’re bitter now because it’s been brought so close to home — and after all, it’s an exceptional case.”

She said, “It’s going to be touch and go with Carla now. I don’t know whether she’ll pull through. She looks infinitely worse than I’ve ever seen her — and she was getting along so well.”

“I know,” Mason said sympathetically. “This is the very situation I was trying to avoid.”

“Well, it isn’t your fault. If she’d followed your instructions, she’d have been all right. She realizes that now.”

“And she hasn’t told them anything else — only about the stock?”

“That’s all, but with the evidence they have against her, that’s enough. Mr. Mason, she just can’t go ahead with this... And if they should convict her... Perhaps it might be better... better if...”

“She didn’t pull through?” Mason asked.

She tried in vain to blink back the tears, but nodded.

Mason said, “Something one of the witnesses said this afternoon gave me a new idea.”

“You mean there’s hope?”

“Lots of it.”

“If Bob would only be a man,” she said, “and tell the truth, he could save her. If he’d just admit that he was out there, and that she followed him... But Bob killed him, so naturally he won’t say anything that would risk his precious neck.”

“Bob probably doesn’t know that she followed him,” Mason said.

“He most certainly does,” Mildreth said indignantly. “Remember that Bob came to the Clearmount Hotel and got Carla. He drove her away, and they talked a lot. And do you know, Bob lied to her? He absolutely wouldn’t admit that he’d ever surrendered the stock or that he went out there to see Lynk? Can you imagine that — after she followed him herself, saw him with her own eyes going up to Lilac Canyon?”

“How does he account for that?”

“Well, you know Bob. He always has the most wonderful explanations. He says that before he’d gone ten blocks from the house, he picked up a friend of his. He won’t tell the friend’s name. He says that he drove the friend uptown, that the friend wanted to borrow the car for about an hour, and Bob stepped out and let him take the car.”

“Your sister believes that?”

“Of course she believes it! She’d believe anything he told her. She makes me sick.”

“Could that have happened?”

“I don’t see how. Carla was following him all the time. Of course, there were a few times when she got behind in traffic. Bob was shrewd enough to ask her first about the times she’d temporarily lost sight of the car. Then he had this changing of drivers occur at one of those times — the big four flusher.”

“Did you point out to Carla that...”

“Oh, I tried to, but what’s the use. I could see that she was very weak. She wanted to tell me these things because she wanted you to know them. That Lieutenant Tragg! If I ever get a chance to give him a piece of my mind, I...”

“You will,” Mason said. “Here he comes now.”

She whirled to face the door of the courtroom where Tragg, having just entered, smiled at the deputy, then pushed his way through a little knot of people gathered in the aisle, and came walking rapidly toward them. His smile was cordial. “Good afternoon,” he said.

Mildreth Faulkner tilted her chin and turned so that the point of her shoulder was toward him.

Tragg said, “Come, come, Miss Faulkner. Don’t take it that way.”

She said icily, “I don’t like lies, and I hate liars.”

He flushed.

Mason put his hand on her arm. “Take it easy,” he cautioned.

Tragg shifted his eyes to Mason. “No hard feelings, Mason?” he asked.

“No hard feelings,” Mason said. “I can dish it out, and I can take it. But I can’t help feeling concerned about my client.”

Tragg said, “I want to talk with you about that.”

“Go ahead.”

“First, however, I have a disagreeable duty to perform.”

“Yes,” Mildreth Faulkner said icily, “you want to carry water on both shoulders. You want to be friendly with people, but you betray their confidences and...”

“Easy,” Mason interrupted. “Let’s see what the lieutenant has to say.”

Tragg’s face was a shade darker than usual. He addressed his remarks entirely to Mason, carefully leaving Mildreth Faulkner out of the conversation. “I’m sorry, Mason, but you made an admission in open court that you had this stock certificate. I have no alternative but to demand that you turn it over to me, and am also notifying you that you’re going to be called in front of the grand jury.”

“Why?”

Tragg said, “You know Churchill, don’t you?”

“You mean Loring Churchill, the deputy district attorney?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about him?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

“That’s nothing,” Mason said promptly. “I don’t like him. He’s an egotistical, academic nonentity. He has the brains of an encyclopedia, and the personality of a last year’s almanac.”

Tragg laughed. “Well, anyway, he sent me up here to get that stock.”

“How did he know I had it?”

“As soon as you made the statement in open court, we were advised. Churchill was waiting for that.”

Mason said, “Well, you don’t get the stock.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve been served with a subpoena ordering me to bring that stock into court.”

Tragg said, “Don’t adopt that attitude, Mason. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“You’re in a jam.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve suppressed evidence.”

“What’s the evidence?”

“That stock certificate.”

Mason said, “I stood up in open court and admitted that I had it. That doesn’t sound like concealing it.”

“You wouldn’t have made that admission unless you’d been served with a subpoena, and, even then, you wouldn’t have admitted it unless I’d trapped Mrs. Lawley into admitting she gave it to you.”

“Yes,” Mildreth Faulkner interrupted, “you should feel very proud of yourself for that — a brave police officer!”

Mason said, “Well, Tragg, that’s a matter of opinion — whether I’d have admitted it or not.”

“Well, I have my opinion,” Tragg said, his lips tightening.

“You’re entitled to it,” Mason told him.

“I’m also entitled to the stock.”

“Not unless you get an order of court. I was ordered to be in court as a witness and have that stock certificate with me. I’m here. I have that stock certificate.”

“Judge Grosbeck would understand the situation.”

“If he does, he can make an order.”

“That will take time.”

“So it will.”

“And when I try to serve that order on you, how do I know I’m going to be able to find you?”

“You don’t.”

Tragg said, “Churchill will go up in the air over this. He won’t like it a bit.”

“Too bad,” Mason said. “I suppose I’ll spend a sleepless night now, knowing that Loring Churchill doesn’t like me.”

Tragg said, “Listen, Mason, you’re on one side of the fence. I’m on the other. I get a kick out of you. You fight hard, and at times you fight dirty, but you’re always fighting. If you turn over that stock certificate, Churchill probably won’t go ahead with this grand jury business. I’d like to see you keep in the clear.”

“To hell with Churchill.”

“That’s your final answer?”

“No. If he turns Mrs. Lawley loose within an hour, he’ll get that stock certificate. Otherwise, he’ll get it when I get damn good and ready to give it to him.”

Tragg said, “I’m afraid Mrs. Lawley is going to face a jury.”

“What charge?”

“First-degree murder.”

“Decided to pin it on her, have you?”

“We have no alternative. Her husband made some damaging statements.”

“Damaging to him or her?”

“Her.”

Mildreth Faulkner forgot her animosity for Tragg in the shock given her by that information. “You mean Bob Lawley said something which made the case bad for Carla?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Tragg said, and then hastened to add, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, I guess, but — well, to tell you the truth, Mason, I’m not very happy about it.”

“Why not?”

Tragg said, “Bob Lawley impresses me as being a rat, a heel, and a fourflusher. His wife seems a dead game square-shooter.”

“What did Bob tell you?” Mason asked.

Tragg hesitated. “Look here, Mason, you have a fast mind. You’re usually able to get your clients out, one way or another. I suppose Churchill would give me the devil for this, but...”

“Well, go on.”

Tragg said suddenly, “I’m a servant of the people. I’m a cog in a big system. I play the game to get results. I’m dealing with criminals, and I have a job to do.”

“Why the prelude?” Mason asked.

“Because I’m sorry that I did what I did with Mrs. Lawley. If I’d realized how grave her condition was, I wouldn’t have done it. I’ll tell you that frankly.”

“You’ve done it,” Mason said.

Tragg said, “That’s right, I’ve done it, and I’m not backing up on it. She’s going to be treated just as any other prisoner would be treated. Only — well, this is a situation the law doesn’t provide for. A woman who’s dangerously ill. The slightest excitement may prove fatal.”

“Let’s hear what Bob Lawley told you,” Mason said by way of answer.

“Lawley,” Tragg said bitterly, “seems all broken up over his wife’s condition. He cries and whimpers about it, and we let him in to see her, and he got down on his knees and kissed the sleeve of her nightgown.”

“Go on.”

“Well, just before that, he’d broken down and told the police everything he knew.”

“What did he know?”

“He said he’d taken his car out, that he’d picked up a friend, that the friend wanted to borrow the car. Lawley had some telephoning he wanted to do so he drove in to the curb down by Coulter Street, that he let the friend drive the automobile away, that his wife was following him, that the car went to Lilac Canyon, that his wife went there after the car, and went to Lynk’s house.”

“How does he know all this?”

“Because she told him.”

“And he told the officers that?”

Tragg nodded.

“It’s a privileged and confidential communication,” Mason said. “No one should ever have inquired into what his wife told him.”

Tragg said, “At first he was shaking his fists at the ceiling, swearing that he’d never divulge one single thing she had told him. Ten minutes later he was sobbing and spilling everything he knew.”

“He would,” Mildreth Faulkner said bitterly.

Mason said, “You know what he’s doing, don’t you, Tragg?”

“Trying to save his own bacon,” Tragg said.

“Not that.”

“What then?”

“Figure it out. His wife’s in a precarious position. Excitement is bad for her. Strain and worry are worse. Not quite as spectacular in their effects, but more deadly in the long run.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Who’s the sole beneficiary under her will? Bob. Who is the beneficiary of her life insurance? Bob. Who would inherit her property? Bob.”

Tragg pulled his brows together in a frown. “Mason, do you mean to say that he’d plan to kill his own wife?”

“Why not? Other men have killed their wives. It isn’t completely unheard of in the annals of crime, you know, and this is a perfect setup. All he has to do is egg you folks on, and when her ticker stops, you’ll be the ones who have to take the rap. He’ll be smugly smiling to himself with all of the benefits.”

“You don’t sketch him in a very flattering light.”

“Why should I?”

“What’s your basis for making any such insinuations?”

“They aren’t insinuations,” Mason said. “They’re charges. I’m telling you that’s his game.”

“The police wouldn’t hound her so that there’d be — well, fatal complications.”

“The hell you wouldn’t,” Mason said. “You’ve already come pretty close to doing it.”

“We haven’t hurt her any.”

“Don’t kid yourself. She was getting along pretty well, then...”

“I’m not responsible for the excitement incident to committing murder.”

“She didn’t commit murder. She had some excitement, all right. That put her back. But I had her examined yesterday morning by a competent physician. You don’t dare to let him examine her now and see what he has to say about what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

Tragg said with some show of irritation, “We’re not responsible for everything of that sort which can happen.”

“You’re responsible for your share of it — and look at Loring Churchill. That smug, beetle-browed, bookish nincompoop will nag her to death. Let Bob give him a few fresh facts to work on, and he’ll keep trotting back and forth into Mrs. Lawley’s room in the hospital until he’s worn a groove in the floor.”

“What,” Mildreth Faulkner asked, “did Bob say besides that?”

Tragg said, “Not a great deal. What he did say was more damning by implication than by direct statement.”

Mason said, “Don’t be a sap, Tragg. Use your head. Why would Mrs. Lawley have killed him?”

“Over that stock.”

“Bunk! Bob might have killed him over the stock, but she wouldn’t. She’d have found out how much money he wanted for it, paid through the nose, given Bob a spanking, listened to him cry and whine, then smoothed his hair, fixed his necktie nice and pretty, and given him some more money to play on the ponies.”

Tragg stood silent for several seconds, his forehead creased in a portentous scowl. Suddenly he raised his eyes to Mason and said, “All right, Mason, you win.”

“What?”

“I’m going to play ball with you. Dammit, that Bob Lawley doesn’t ring true to me. I don’t fall for him for a minute. I think he’s a liar and a crook. I’d ten times rather figure he was guilty than his wife.

“He’s a clever liar, and he’s got Loring Churchill completely sold. I told Churchill I thought we should put some pressure on this guy, and Loring wouldn’t hear of it. He thinks Mrs. Lawley is the one he wants. Right now he’s so busy trying to build up a case against her he won’t listen to anything that doesn’t have a tendency to prove her guilty. I don’t like it.”

Mason said, “Want to take a ride?”

“Yes.”

“You?” Mason asked Mildreth Faulkner.

She nodded.

Mason said to Della Street, “You’d better come along, Della.”

“Where are you going?” Tragg asked.

Mason said, “I had a theory about this case that requires a little thought, and a few questions.”

“You’ve asked the questions?”

“Yes.”

“How were the answers?”

Mason said, “I’m pretty damn sure I’m right.”

“Why not tell me first?”

Mason shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because the case isn’t ripe. It isn’t ready to pick. We haven’t any evidence against the guilty person. All we have are certain things we can use to support a very logical theory.

“Now then, I know you. You hate to go off half cocked. You’ll listen to what I have to say, think it over, and say, ‘Gosh, Mason, that certainly sounds like something, but let’s not tip our hand until we have more than we’ve got now. Let’s go to work on it and build up a perfect case.’ ”

“Well,” Tragg said, “what’s wrong with that? You don’t want to flush the quarry too soon — not in this business.”

Mason said, “The thing that’s wrong with that way of playing it is that you’ll keep Mrs. Lawley in confinement. You’ll let her know that a charge is pending over her. You’ll let Loring Churchill trot back and forth in and out of her room until she’s worn to a shadow. She’ll take a deep breath, and her heart will pop. Nix on it. We’re going to get her out tonight. We’re going to get that load taken off her mind.”

“Suppose you upset the apple cart?”

“Then it’s upset. Do you want to come, or don’t you?”

“I don’t approve of it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

Tragg said moodily, “Well, if you put it up to me that way, I’ll have to come.”

“Come on, then,” Mason said.