The Case of the Cautious Coquette

Chapter 26

As soon as Judge Osborn had left the bench, Lucille Barton turned to Perry Mason, placed her gloved hand over his wrist, squeezed so hard the leather of the glove stretched taut over her knuckles.

“Mr. Mason, you’re wonderful!” she whispered.

Mason said, “This is just the opening round, Lucille, we’ve shaken the witness in his identification of me; but don’t overlook the fact that his identification of you will stand up unless we can find some way of showing you weren’t there.”

“Yes, that’s so,” she admitted in a whisper.

“And,” Mason said, “the gun with which Pitkin was killed was a gun that quite evidently had been given you by Arthur Colson. And incidentally, Ross Hollister was also murdered, and you had twenty thousand dollars’ insurance on Hollister’s life.”

“But, Mr. Mason, can’t you understand? I loved Ross. His death is a great blow to me. We were going to be married. He represented security, affection, a home, everything a woman wants.”

“Unless, perhaps, she happened to have been in love with Arthur Colson, who showed her a way of collecting twenty thousand dollars’ insurance so she could marry him.”

“Mr. Mason, don’t be silly! You were so nice, and now you’re talking just like that district attorney.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Mason said. “Wait until you hear the way he’s going to talk! You never have told me why you didn’t take my advice and telephone the police when that body was discovered, and when that gun was still in your purse.”

“Mr. Mason, I can’t. I simply can’t. I can’t tell you that story. I can’t tell anyone.”

“All right,” Mason said, “I can put on all sorts of a grandstand here, but you’re going to be bound over for murder, and later on, unless you can tell some satisfactory story to a jury, you’re going to be convicted of murder.”

“Mr. Mason, can’t you get me off?”

“Not unless I know what happened, and unless it’s a good story.”

“Other women shoot people and get off. Lawyers...”

“I know,” Mason said, “but you’re up against a different situation. Colson started masterminding this thing, and two men have been murdered. The revolver which killed one of them was in your possession both before and after the murders were committed. You’re going to have one hell of a time explaining that it wasn’t in your possession while they were being committed.”

“Mr. Mason, Arthur Colson wasn’t the one who did what you call masterminding that.”

“No?” Mason said skeptically. “He’s never done anything, or said anything that convinced me of his sincerity.”

She said impulsively, “He’s simply trying to stand by me, Mr. Mason. You must believe that. You must understand that.”

Mason merely smiled.

“The man who did what you call masterminding the thing,” she said, “was someone whom you haven’t even talked to.”

“Who?”

“Willard Barton,” she blurted, and then suddenly removed her gloved hand to press it against her lips. “There, I’ve said too much! He’d be furious if he knew that.”

Mason watched her with coldly cynical eyes. “Was that an act?” he asked.

“What?”

“Letting that information slip out.”

“No, I... I’m sorry I said it.”

Mason said, “You’re a damn smart little actress. I don’t know what sort of trap you’re setting for me now, but I’m not going to walk into it.”

She said, “They can never prove that gun was in my possession if you keep quiet.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Arthur Colson told me that.”

Mason said angrily, “That dreamy-eyed goof!”

“He’s smart, Mr. Mason. He’s terribly clever.”

“I daresay,” Mason said sarcastically.

“And he says he won’t ever let them trace that gun into my possession.”

Mason said, “You were engaged to Hollister. He planned to leave on a business trip Monday night. You knew that and you spent that evening with Arthur Colson. I don’t like that story, and a jury won’t like it.”

She said, “It’s the truth. Arthur is just like a brother to me.”

“Did Hollister know Arthur Colson?”

“No. They’d never met.”

Mason said, “I don’t like Arthur’s presence in the case.”

“You just wait,” she flared. “He’ll...”

Mason prompted as she paused, “He’ll do what?”

“Nothing.”

Mason studied her for a few seconds, then said, “That gun has my fingerprint on it. You’re going to have to explain that eventually.”

A cunning smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Arthur Colson told me something about that. Don’t worry, I’ll explain it.”