The Case of the Buried Clock

Chapter 15

In the midst of the excitement the arrival of Perry Mason and Paul Drake went unnoticed. Not even after Mason had pushed open the door of the cabin did anyone take immediate notice of him.

Dr. Macon had quit struggling against the grip of the handcuffs. Jameson, smilingly triumphant, was exhibiting the small black object which he held in the palm of his hand. “I’m calling on all of you,” he said, “to witness that this is the bullet which Dr. Macon was trying to remove from the place where he had hidden it. I’m going to make a small scratch on the back of the bullet, so that we’ll have a definite means of identification... Do you care to make a statement, Doctor?”

Dr. Macon simply shook his head.

“And you, Miss Blane,” Jameson said. “You, I believe, saw him enter through the window?”

She nodded.

“And do you care to make a statement at this time, telling what you saw, and explaining how you happened to be in that dark bedroom, apparently hiding from—”

Perry Mason stepped forward. “I don’t think Miss Blane cares to make any statement at the present time,” he said. “As you can plainly see, she’s upset and frightened.”

Jameson apparently saw Mason for the first time. “You again?”

Mason nodded and smiled.

“How the devil did you get here? We’ve had the place under surveillance.”

Mason said, “Mr. Drake and I just arrived.”

“Oh.”

“And since I’m here, I’d like to talk with Miss Blane.”

It was Jameson’s turn to smile. “Unfortunately, Mr. Mason, we’re taking Dr. Macon with us, and Miss Adele is going along as a material witness. Your arrival was opportune, but I’m afraid, Mr. Mason, it was just a little too late to save your client from sticking her head in a noose.”

Jameson nodded to the deputy who was assisting him. “All right,” he said, “let’s get them out of here. And,” he added after a moment during which he sized up the possibilities of the situation, “let’s get them out of here fast.”

It was as Dr. Macon and Adele were being hustled through the door, that Mason said to Paul Drake in an undertone, “Notice the reddish clay mud on Rodney Beaton’s shoes.”

Adele Blane flashed Mason an appealing look.

Mason surreptitiously lowered his right eye, raised an extended forefinger to his lips.

Jameson said to Rodney Beaton, “You have a car here, Beaton. Our car is parked down at the foot of the grade. Take us down there, will you please?”

Beaton said laughingly, “I suppose that’s a request which is a command.”

“We could commandeer your car,” Jameson agreed, smiling. “We thought perhaps you’d prefer to do the driving.”

“Come on,” Beaton said.

Jameson lost no time in hustling his prisoners out of the house, taking care to give them no opportunity to talk with Perry Mason. The lawyer, holding himself completely aloof, stood over by the stone fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece, smoking a cigarette.

At the very last moment Lola Strague said, “I’m going along with you, if you don’t mind, Rod.”

Beaton turned questioningly to Jameson.

“She was with you when you drove up?” the deputy asked.

“Yes,” Beaton said.

“Okay. Bring her along.”

Burt Strague started to say something, then checked himself, watched the others out through the front door, across the rustic porch, down the steps, and into the car.

After they had gone Myrna Payson said, “Well, despite our isolation, we manage to have a little excitement now and then.”

“I presume Adele Blane came with you?” Mason asked.

She said, “That’s your privilege, Mr. Mason.”

“What is?”

“To presume anything you like.”

Mason turned to glance questioningly at Harley Raymand.

“Really, Mr. Mason, I’d rather not,” Raymand said.

“Okay,” Mason announced.

Burt Strague said abruptly, “I don’t like it. I don’t like the way they’re dragging Sis into this thing.”

“Into what thing?” Mason asked.

“They’ve been out setting Rodney Beaton’s cameras,” Burt Strague said, “but they’ve been somewhere else.”

“I noticed,” Mason observed, “there were bits of a reddish clay soil on Rodney Beaton’s shoes.”

“Well, what of it?” Burt Strague asked suspiciously.

“I was just wondering where he might have picked up that reddish clay.”

Burt Strague remained sullenly silent.

Mason went on after a moment, “There were traces of a similar clay on the bottoms of the trousers Jack Hardisty was wearing when his body was found here in the cabin.”

“You mean that clay might be a clue?” Burt Strague asked.

“It might be,” Mason said.

“Oh well, that’s different. I wasn’t going to say anything if your inquiry was just idle curiosity, or an attempt to involve my sister, but I can tell you where Rod must have got that clay mud.”

“Where?”

“Up at the mouth of the mining tunnel, back here in the mountains about half or three-quarters of a mile.”

“That mud is in the tunnel?” Mason asked.

“No. It’s on the trail about fifty or a hundred yards in front of the mining tunnel. It’s where some of the dirt from the dump is softened up by drainage water that seeps out of the tunnel. The upper trail goes directly through it.”

“I thought you said you were up there tonight,” Raymand said.

“I was. I went by the lower trail. There are two trails up to the mining tunnel. I think originally there were old mining shacks on these cabin sites around here, and the men cut roads up to the mine. Those roads have gradually disintegrated until now there are only trails left.”

“The upper trail goes from here to the tunnel?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“And the lower trail?”

“That’s more from the other side, over back of where Rodney Beaton has his cabin... I went up there tonight, looking for my sister. Beaton’s got cameras scattered around over all those trails. I touched off one of his flashguns tonight.”

Mason said, “I think I should like to see that tunnel and go over the trails. Could we do it tonight?”

Strague hesitated. “I don’t think Rodney would like it,” he said. “He has his cameras set to pick up some game pictures. He hates to have the game disturbed at night... However, if it’s important—”

Mason said, “It’s important. But under the circumstances, we’ll wait and ask Beaton how he feels about it when he returns.”

Myrna Payson said, “Oh bosh. Let’s not put off any investigations simply on account of some pictures — unless, of course, you want to talk with Mr. Beaton.”

Mason smiled. “I think we’ll put it off until Mr. Beaton returns. Here he comes now.”

In the moment of silence which followed, they could hear the sound of Rodney Beaton’s automobile coming back up the grade to the cabin, and a moment later, Beaton and Lola Strague rejoined the little group.

“They played that pretty slick,” Beaton said. “Had their car concealed down there, and kept the cabin under surveillance. They evidently knew when you and Adele came in, Myrna, but they didn’t want to close the trap just then. They were waiting for additional game to walk in. I think they had an idea Dr. Macon might show up and try to tamper with some of the evidence... Anyone know what actually happened in there?”

No one said anything.

“I gathered,” Beaton said, “that Adele came with you, Myrna; that when she heard us coming she hid in that back room. It was dark in there, and when Dr. Macon showed up, he slipped in through the window and tried to remove the evidence he’d left there... I presume that’s the so-called fatal bullet they caught him taking away.”

Lola Strague said, “Poor Adele. I don’t blame her for being frightened to death.”

Myrna Payson said nothing.

Mason said, “A matter came up while you were out, Beaton, that I think might well be discussed.”

“What?”

“A certain reddish clay soil on your shoes.”

Beaton looked at his shoes, said, “Yes. That’s from up by the tunnel.”

“I thought you said you weren’t up there,” Burt Strague said sharply.

Beaton regarded him for a moment with unwinking scrutiny, then said, “Not in the tunnel, youngster. As you probably know, that’s on the upper trail about a hundred yards from the mouth of the tunnel. We went past there to cut down to the other trail to change the films in that camera. Incidentally, that’s the one you tripped off when you walked through the trap.”

“Then why didn’t you meet me coming up the trail?” Burt Strague asked.

“Because we waited a while after the flash before we went down to the camera,” Lola Strague said sharply.

“And I do wish, Burt, you’d either snap out of it or go home! After all, I’m free, white and twenty-one. I certainly don’t need you to chaperone me, and I see no reason for airing these little grievances in front of—”

Mason said smoothly, “Well, as far as we’re concerned, that’s entirely outside the question. What we’re interested in is a patch of red clay that was on Jack Hardisty’s trousers when the body was found. Also there’s some indication that a deliberate attempt was made to remove all traces of that mud from his shoes. I had asked Harley Raymand to look around here and see if he could find a place where the trail was muddy. I felt that it must have been near a creek bed or a spring, because it hadn’t rained for a while, and—”

Beaton interrupted. “You should have asked me, Mr. Mason. Raymand isn’t entirely familiar with the back country. I could have told you in a minute. There’s only one place anywhere around here where there’s that type of mud; that’s on the upper trail to the tunnel.”

“Do you suppose,” Mason asked, “we could take a look at it?”

“Sure... But what would Jack Hardisty have been doing up there?”

As Mason made no answer, the significance of the situation apparently dawned on Rodney Beaton, and he gave a low whistle. “So that’s it. Anybody been in that tunnel recently?”

They exchanged glances and head shakes.

“There’s just a chance,” Beaton said, “we might find something there.”

Drake asked, “How about flashlights? Do we have plenty? I only have one, and—”

“I carry extra batteries and an extra bulb for mine,” Beaton said. “Being out in the mountains at night as much as I am, I can’t afford to take chances... How about it, are we all going?”

Harley Raymand was the only one who hesitated; then, as he reached for the knob on the gasoline lantern, he smiled and said dryly, “It looks as though we’re all going.”