The Case of the Crimson Kiss

Chapter seven

Della Street, her eyes sparkling, entered Mason’s private office from the door which led from the reception room and said, “He’s here, chief.”

“Who’s here?” Mason asked, frowning.

She laughed. “Don’t be like that. As far as this office is concerned, there is only one he.”

“Dane Grover?”

“That’s right.”

“What sort?”

“Tall, sensitive-looking. Wavy, dark-brown hair, romantic eyes, with something of the poet about him. He’s terribly crushed, of course. You can sec he’s dying ten thousand deaths every time he meets one of his friends. Gertie, at the switchboard, can’t take her eyes off him.”

Mason grinned and said, “Let’s get him in, then, before Gertie either breaks up a romance or dies of unrequited love.”

Della Street went out and returned after a few moments, ushering Dane Grover into the office.

Mason shook hands, invited Grover to take a seat. Grover glanced dubiously at Della Street. Mason smiled. “She’s my right hand, Grover, keeps notes for me, and her thoughts to herself.”

Grover said, “I suppose I’m unduly sensitive, but I can’t stand it when people patronize me or snub me or pity me.”

Mason nodded.

“I’ve had them do all three ever since the papers came out this morning.”

Again Mason’s answer was merely a nod.

“But,” Grover went on, “I want you to know that I’ll stick.”

Mason thought that over for a moment, then held Grover’s eyes. “For how long?”

“All the way.”

“No matter what the evidence shows?”

Grover said, “The evidence shows the woman I love was living with Carver Clements as his mistress. The evidence simply can’t be right. I love her, and I’m going to stick. I want you to tell her that, and I want you to know that. What you’re going to have to do is going to take money. I want it to take lots of money. I don’t want to leave any stone unturned. I’m here to see that you have what money you need — all you want, in fact.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Primarily, what I need is a little moral support. I want to be able to tell Fay Allison that you’re sticking, and I want some facts.”

“What facts?”

“How long have you been going with Fay Allison?”

“A matter of three or four months. Before then I was... well, sort of squiring both of the girls around.”

“You mean Anita Bonsal?”

“Yes. I met Anita first. I went with her for a while. Then I went with both. Then I began to gravitate toward Fay Allison. I thought I was just making dates. Actually I was falling in love.”

“And Anita?”

“She’s like a sister to both of us. She’s been simply grand in this whole thing. She’s promised me that she’ll do everything she can do.”

“Could Fay Allison have been living with Carver Clements?”

“She had the physical opportunity, if that’s what you mean.”

“You didn’t see her every night?”

“No.”

“What does Anita say?”

“Anita says the charge is ridiculous, absolutely absurd.”

“Do you know of any place where Fay Allison could have had access to cyanide of potassium?”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you about, Mr. Mason.”

“Go ahead.”

“Out at my place the gardener uses it. I don’t know just what for, but... well, out there the other day, when he was showing Fay around the place...”

“Yes, yes,” Mason said impatiently as Grover paused, “go on.”

“Well, I know the gardener was explaining to her something about it. He told her to be very careful not to touch that sack because it contained cyanide, and I remember she asked him a few questions about what he used it for, but I wasn’t paying much attention. It’s the basis of some sort of a spray, and then I believe it’s used for the plants.”

“Who else was present?”

“Just the three of us.”

“Has your gardener read the papers?”

Grover nodded.

“Can you trust him?”

“With my life. He’s very devoted to me. He’s been with us for twenty years.”

“What’s his name?”

“Barney Sheff. My mother took an interest in him and... well, rehabilitated him.”

“He’d been in trouble?”

“Yes.”

“In the pen?”

“That’s right.”

“Then what?”

“Then he was released. He had a chance to get parole if he could get a job. Mother gave him the job. He’s been terribly devoted ever since.”

“You have a hothouse?”

“Yes.”

“I’m wondering if you have fully explored the possibilities of orchid growing.”

“We’re not interested in orchid growing. We can buy them and—”

“I wonder,” Mason said in exactly the same tone and with the same spacing of words, “if you have fully investigated the possibilities of growing orchids.”

“I tell you we...”

“Fully investigated the possibilities of growing orchids,” Mason said again.

“You mean... oh, you mean we should send Barney Sheff to...”

“Fully investigate the possibilities of growing orchids.”

Dane Grover studied Mason silently for a few seconds. Then abruptly he arose from the chair, extended his hand, and said, “I brought you some money. I thought you might need it.”

He carelessly tossed an envelope on the desk.

“How about your mother?” Mason asked.

Grover touched his tongue to dry lips, then clamped his mouth in a straight line. “Mother,” he said, “is naturally embarrassed. I don’t think her feelings need to enter into it.”

And with that he marched out of the office.

Mason reached for the envelope Grover had tossed on his desk. It was well filled with hundred-dollar bills.

Della Street came over to take the money. “When I get so interested in a man,” she said, “that I neglect to count the money, you know I’m becoming incurably romantic. How much, chief?”

“Plenty,” Mason said.

Della Street was counting it when the unlisted telephone on her desk rang stridently.

She picked up the receiver and heard Drake’s voice on the line.

“Hi, Paul,” she said.

“Hi, Della. Perry there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Drake said wearily, “I’m making a progress report. Tell him Lieutenant Tragg nabbed the Grover gardener, a chap by the name of Sheff. They’re holding him as a material witness, seem to be all worked up about what they’ve discovered. Can’t find out what it is. Think the tip-off to grab him came from Dane’s mother, Caroline Manning Grover.”

Della Street sat motionless at the desk, holding the receiver.

“Hello, hello,” Drake said. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Della said. “I’ll tell him.” She hung up the phone.