The Case of the Cautious Coquette

Chapter 24

At noon on Sunday, the ninth, Paul Drake called up Perry Mason on the unlisted telephone at the lawyer s apartment. “News for you, Perry.”

“Okay,” Mason said, stretching himself out luxuriously in the reclining chair, and propping the telephone to his ear, “let’s have it.”

“They’ve discovered Hollister’s body.”

“Where?”

“About a mile and a half up the grade from where Hollister’s car was found.”

“Well, well,” Mason said, “that’s very interesting.”

“And he too had been shot in the head, but with a .45 caliber automatic.”

“Death instantaneous, I suppose?”

“Practically.”

“Where was the body?”

“It had been thrown over a cliff and then someone had gone down, rolled the body against the steep face of the bank and pushed dirt over it, a rather effective but very hasty burial.”

Mason said, “Now get this, Paul. It’s important. Was there anything unusual about that body — its position?”

“Yes. It was wrapped in canvas and trussed up with the knees pulled up across the chest, the head drawn forward, and the shoulders tied to the knees.”

“Anything to show time?”

“Hollister’s smashed wrist watch had stopped at 5:55. The clock on the dash of the car at 6:21. Police think Hollister must have been shot by a hitchhiker who drove the car up a side road, went through Hollister’s pockets and tied him in a bundle so he could be rolled down the cliff. Then twenty-six minutes later got rid of the car. Hollister usually carried a good roll. There wasn’t a dime in the pockets.

“But, of course, the police aren’t at all certain. Because of his connection with Lucille Barton, they’re moving very slowly.”

“In other words, the police are pretty badly confused?”

“Well, they’re starting to clarify the situation. They’re filing a complaint charging Lucille Barton with murder, and they’ll hold a preliminary hearing just as soon as they can rush it through.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “How did they happen to find the body, Paul?”

“Well, Lieutenant Tragg evidently doped it out. He felt that Hollister’s car had been ditched by someone who had wanted to conceal the body of the owner, that the car had been taken up the grade from Santa del Barra, then turned around and headed back down. He felt certain the body must have been ditched above the place where the car turned around, so he found a wide place in the road where it was possible to make a turn, then started looking for steep cliffs. Starting from there, he began to look for freshly dug ground and — well, he found it — incidentally he’s taking a lot of kudos for some damn good detective work.”

“I’m glad of that,” Mason said. “He’s certainly entitled to it. Didn’t say anything about how he happened to get that hunch, did he, Paul?”

“No, it was just clever detective work on his part.”

“I see,” Mason said. “And what else did they find other than the body?”

“Nothing. Isn’t that enough?”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Hollister was starting out on a trip, he’d have had...”

“Oh, you mean baggage?”

“Yes.”

Drake was silent for a few seconds, then said, “It’s a good point, Perry. I don’t think there was any.”

“Well, thanks a lot for calling, Paul. I don’t think they’ll try to arrest anyone else until after Lucille Barton’s preliminary. You should see a lot of action there, Paul.”

“Heaven help us both if I don’t,” Drake said wearily as he hung up the telephone.