The Case of the Demure Defendant

Chapter Ten

For more than an hour after Cap’n Hugo had left the office Mason paced the floor, waiting.

From time to time Della Street glanced at her watch. At length she said, “Does a working girl get any chance to eat? It seems to me something was said about food.”

Mason, without interrupting the rhythm of his pacing, said, “We may have to get food sent in. I’d like to hear from Dr. Denair before the police contact him, and I simply have to reach Nadine Farr. How do you suppose John Locke knew where she was, Della?”

“She must have phoned him as soon as I left. That girl’s an enigma, Perry, but I sensed she had something on her mind.”

Drake’s code knock sounded on the door. Della let him in.

“Getting nervous?” Drake said, sliding into his favorite position in the big leather chair.

“He’s been biting his fingernails right down to the elbow,” Della Street said.

“How are you coming, Paul?” Mason asked.

“Well, I’ve got a lot of men out now.”

“Can you find Nadine Farr?”

“I’m hoping to have a line on her at any minute,” Drake said.

Mason frowned. “You should have had her by this time. It’s a broad trail to follow. She left the High-Tide Motel with John Locke and—”

“How do you know she went out with John Locke?” Drake interrupted.

“Don’t be silly,” Mason said. “The manager told me so. Locke came and asked for her cabin. She watched them go out. The girl hadn’t had anything to eat. It’s a cinch they went to dinner somewhere. You should be able to locate the places that Locke was in the habit of patronizing.”

“That’s all very fine,” Drake said, “but your facts are jumbled.”

“What do you mean?”

“She didn’t go out with John Locke.”

“She didn’t!” Mason exclaimed.

Drake said, “I’ll give you a piece of information that may jar you a bit. The manager of the motel says that the man who called for her was driving a two-tone Olds. She thought they turned in at a gas station on the next corner. I checked with the gas station attendant. Naturally he can’t remember all the cash sales but I checked on sales where the customer had used a credit card and I find that at just about the time Nadine Farr checked out, Jackson Newburn was buying gas on a credit card at that station. I—”

The phone rang.

Drake said, “I left your unlisted number with my operator, Perry. I hope it’s all right. I—”

Della Street, answering the telephone, nodded to Paul Drake. “For you, Paul.”

Drake took the telephone, said, “Hello,” listened for a minute then said, “Where is he now?... Wait a minute. Hang on to the line.”

Drake turned to Mason. “Officers are crawling all over the place, Perry,” the detective said. “A couple of men from the Homicide Squad are watching the apartment where John Avington Locke lives. A couple more are watching the house where Mosher Higley died — that’s where Nadine Farr is living at the present time. My men found out that John Locke frequently ate at a little place known as The Smoked Pheasant out on Sunset. I told them to check the place. John Locke is in there eating.”

“Alone?” Mason asked.

“Alone,” Drake said. “Now then, if Locke leaves there and drives home he’ll walk right into the arms of the police. The point is, do you want to see him first?”

“You’re damn right I want to see him first.”

“Okay,” Drake told him, “you’d better get out there. He’s twenty-six, wearing a pepper-and-salt tweed suit, cordovan shoes, no hat, reddish-brown hair a little high at the forehead.”

“I’m on my way,” Mason said. “Tell your operative to keep him covered.”

Drake said into the telephone, “Perry Mason will be out there. He’ll get in touch with you. You know Mason from his pictures. Keep an eye out for him. Don’t let the subject know he’s under surveillance or let him see you talking to Mason.”

Drake hung up, held an open notebook in his hand and said, “I have a lot of stuff you should know before you go out there, Perry.”

Mason, headed for the hat closet, called back over his shoulder, “There isn’t time, Paul. I’ll have to get moving.”

“Well,” Drake said, “I know now what it’s all about. I know the hold that Higley had over Nadine Farr. I know all about Nadine’s past and—”

“And do you know why she picked this particular time to go out with Jackson Newburn?” Mason asked.

Drake said, “That I don’t know.”

“Mrs. Newburn thinks she has the answer,” Mason told him. “I laughed at her when she told me. Right now I’m not so sure. Mrs. Newburn comes in to see me and while she’s gone Nadine phones Mrs. Newburn’s husband. Mrs. Newburn goes home. Her husband isn’t there. Naturally she’s trying to find out where he is. If she finds out she’s very apt to do something about it. The police are looking for Nadine. If they find Jackson Newburn with her there’ll be pictures published in the papers and the devil to pay.”

“I know,” Drake said. “I’m doing the best I can trying to locate her for you before the police can spot her.”

Mason took his hat from the hook, turned to Della Street. “Want to come, Della?”

“Do I!”

“Let’s go!”

Drake heaved himself up out of the chair, said, “I’m pounding away on this thing, Perry. What happens if I find Nadine before the police do?”

“Get her out of circulation.”

“That might be risky.”

“Then get in touch with me,” Mason said.

“And where will I find you?”

“I’ll be telephoning you from time to time. Come on, Della.”

They switched out lights in the office, latched the door and hurried down to the elevator.

Drake paused in front of his office door. “I suppose it won’t do a damn bit of good to warn you to be careful, Perry.”

Mason pushed the button on the elevator. “I can’t be careful now, Paul. They’ve dragged me into this thing. Wait until you see how Hamilton Burger smears me in the newspapers. I’m in now and I’ve got to work my way out.”

The elevator cage slid to a stop. Drake said rapidly, “I wish there was time to give you some of this important information, Perry.”

“So do I,” Mason said as the door opened.

“You’ll be calling me?”

“From time to time,” Mason promised.

He and Della entered the elevator, said nothing further until they were ensconced in Mason’s car, driving out toward Hollywood.

“You think Hamilton Burger will smear you in the papers?” Della asked.

“Oh, not Hamilton Burger,” Mason said with elaborate sarcasm. “It’s unethical for an attorney to use the papers to prejudice public opinion. Oh, Hamilton Burger wouldn’t think of doing anything like that! Hamilton Burger will be very ethical. He will probably even refuse to make any comment for fear of violating professional ethics.

“But the police, showing an almost clairvoyant understanding of what Hamilton Burger would have said if he had been free to make any statements, will give the press plenty of information. On the other hand, an attorney representing a defendant doesn’t have anyone to make statements on his behalf. He’s hooked.”

“You mean to say you can’t even make a denial to the press?” she asked.

“Denials won’t do much good,” Mason told her.

“Then I don’t know what would help,” Della Street said.

Mason said, “That bottle with the harmless tablets and the shot in it didn’t get into Twomby’s Lake of its own accord. Somebody threw it in there. Before we get done we’re going to have to prove who did throw it in there, otherwise—”

“Otherwise?” she prompted as his voice trailed off into silence as he braked to a stop at a traffic signal.

“Otherwise I’m stuck with it,” Mason said.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Mason said, “Let’s take inventory, Della. We have Nadine Farr, who has confessed to having poisoned Mosher Higley, feeling at the moment that she’s completely out of all of her difficulties. She’s out somewhere with Jackson Newburn. She’ll tell him about the most recent developments and neither one of them will know that the police are looking for them. We have Dr. Denair completely out of touch with developments. We have Mrs. Jackson Newburn hating Nadine Farr with a deep and bitter hatred and somewhat suspicious that her husband may be becoming entangled in the fatal web of Nadine’s charm. We have the police frantically looking for Nadine, and we have John Locke apparently oblivious of all of these more recent developments.”

“Why do you say apparently oblivious?” Della Street asked.

“Because,” Mason said, “someone who had a rather clever mind decided to help Nadine Farr by putting harmless pills in a bottle filled with shot and tossing it out into Twomby’s Lake. Thinking that I had that bright idea the police won’t look any farther, but since I know I didn’t do it, I’m naturally looking for the man who did, and until I can size up John Locke I’m not putting it past him.”

“Suppose he did do it?” Della Street asked.

“Then,” Mason said, “the important thing is to get him to admit that he did it and see that the story as run in the newspapers is sufficiently dramatic to make the front page.”

“Which is why we’re in such a hurry to get to John Locke?”

“Which is one of the reasons we’re in such a hurry to get to John Locke.”

Thereafter they drove in silence until Mason found a parking place for the car near The Smoked Pheasant.

Mason took Della Street’s arm, walked down the sidewalk, passed the café once, turned around and started back.

A man standing by the doorway struck a match to light a cigarette. The flame illuminated his features.

“Mason,” he said under his breath.

Mason paused.

“Keep walking,” the man said. “I’ll join you.”

Mason and Della Street walked down the sidewalk. The man came along from behind, looked over his shoulder, then fell into step at Mason’s side.

“Is he in there?” Mason asked.

“Still there.”

“Any sign of police?”

“Not yet. I thought you might be hot and—”

“I am,” Mason said, “but they don’t know it yet. What’s he doing?”

“Just finishing his dessert. He’ll be coming out pretty quick. That’s why I got out ahead of him.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Go back. Stand where you were. When he comes out light another cigarette.”

“You coming back now?”

“You go back first,” Mason said. “I’ll wait outside.”

The operative turned and left them, took up his station in front of the café. Mason and Della Street turned slowly back.

Della Street sniffed the air. “I’ll bet that café has darned good cooking,” she said.

Mason nodded. “Smells like it.”

“Couldn’t we go in and eat something and ask him to join us?”

Mason shook his head.

“Why?”

“Drake’s man found out he frequently ate here. The police can dig up that same information. They may show up at any minute. Here he comes now!”

The door opened. A young man stepped out, looked up the street, turned toward Della Street and Perry Mason. The detective in the doorway struck a match, held the flame to his cigarette.

The young man who had emerged from the restaurant started walking rapidly down the street. He was a slender, quick-moving individual, who gave the impression of nervous energy and tension, a man who would be quick to anger, who would form likes and dislikes rapidly, and, once having reached an adverse decision, would be difficult to change.

“Okay,” Mason said in a low voice to Della, “let’s go.”

They walked slowly until near the end of the block they let the young man overtake them.

“John Locke?” Mason asked just as the man passed him.

The man whirled as though Mason had jabbed him with a pointed instrument. His face showed a certain amount of alarm, a complete lack of cordiality.

Della Street, seeing that expression on his face, said sweetly, “I wonder if you’d mind talking with us about Nadine Farr.”

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Della Street, then his expression gradually softening under the influence of her smile.

“Friends,” Mason said.

“Friends of whom?”

“Of yours and of Nadine.”

“Prove it.”

“Let’s keep walking,” Della Street said, and then added swiftly and with just that note of consideration in her voice which made it seem the decision rested with Locke, “shall we?”

By that time, however, both Mason and Della Street were walking one on each side of the young man.

“What’s this all about?” he asked.

“I’m Perry Mason, a lawyer,” the lawyer told him. “I’m helping Nadine.”

“Did she consult you?”

“Not directly. Dr. Denair consulted me.”

“Dr. Denair,” Locke said angrily. “If he’d kept his fingers out of this there wouldn’t have been any trouble.”

“That, of course, is an academic point now,” Mason said. “The thing is that regardless of how we happened to get into this thing we’re all of us interested in helping Nadine.”

“She doesn’t need help. All she needs to do is to keep quiet. The more you try to explain the more trouble you’re going to make and sooner or later—”

“I’m afraid you’re not fully posted on developments,” Mason said.

“Such as what?” Locke asked.

Mason said, “Police raided Dr. Denair’s office this morning. They had a search warrant. They demanded possession of the tape recording.”

“Good heavens, did Dr. Denair give it to them?”

“He had no choice in the matter, although as it happened Dr. Denair wasn’t there. If he had been, he probably would have refused until it could have been adjudicated whether the tape recording was a privileged communication, but Dr. Denair was absent. His nurse was there and she honored the search warrant and surrendered the tape recording. You hadn’t heard about that?”

“No.”

“Well,” Mason said, “there have been quite a few developments. This is neither the time nor the place to discuss them. Suppose we get in my automobile and I’ll take you to wherever you’re going.”

“I was going to my apartment.”

“Under the circumstances,” Mason told him, “it might not be wise to go to your apartment right at the moment. I think it would be better to wait until you’re fully familiar with certain facts.”

“Why shouldn’t I go to my apartment?”

“Because the police want to question you.”

“What do they have to question me about?”

“That,” Mason said, “is the question.”

John Locke strode along for a few seconds, maintaining an angry silence.

“If we could only tell you some of the things that you should know,” Della Street said, “it would help you protect Nadine.”

“Go ahead and talk.”

Mason stopped abruptly. “I’m going back to my car,” he said. “Della, you can talk with Locke. Tell him all of the developments in the case. Don’t hold back anything. I’ll go get the car and pick you up.”

Locke stopped, sized Della Street up for a few moments, then said to Mason, “What’s she to you?”

“My confidential secretary,” Mason said. “She has been for years. She knows everything about my business, everything about this case.”

Locke said, “All right, we’ll all go back. We can talk while we’re walking.”

Mason motioned to Della Street. She took the inside of the sidewalk so that Locke was between them.

Mason, talking rapidly, said, “Why did you tell Cap’n Hugo about the confession, about that tape recording?”

“How do you know I did?”

“Because Cap’n Hugo evidently told Mrs. Jackson Newburn and somehow the police got on to it.”

“If Cap’n Hugo has told, I’ll¯”

“Take it easy,” Mason interrupted. “Hugo is something of a character. He’s talkative and he’s independent. You have to take him the way he is. He may be a very important witness in the case. Let’s not antagonize him.”

“Go ahead. Tell me what happened.”

Mason said, “After the police got hold of that tape recording I felt that it was essential to find out whether there was anything to Miss Farr’s confession or whether it was the distorted hallucination of a drugged brain.”

“Well, that’s all it was.”

“Now just a minute,” Mason said. “Wait until you get the picture. I went out to Twomby’s Lake where she said she had thrown the bottle. I hired some boys who were swimming to dive and see what they could find. They came up with a bottle filled with shot and containing some pills.”

“The deuce they did!”

“I took those pills to Hermann Korbel, a consulting chemist,” Mason said. “Police backtracked me and got the evidence from Korbel before he had a chance to complete his investigation, but he had enough material from the pills so that he was able to show that the pills were not cyanide. They—”

“They weren’t?”

“No, they were completely harmless.”

“What were they?”

“The sugar substitute that had come in the bottle originally.”

“Well, then, that’s all there is to it,” Locke said. “She didn’t know she’d poisoned him. She only knew she’d given him some pills from a bottle and afterwards she began to wonder if that bottle was the one it was supposed to be. If the bottle was recovered from the lake and—”

“That’s what I thought,” Mason interrupted. “It’s what I told Dr. Denair. It’s what I told Nadine. It’s what I told the police. I told them they didn’t have a case, that there hadn’t been any murder. I laughed at them.”

“Well, then, why all the excitement?”

“Because afterward the police went out to the lake, got boys to do some more diving and found another bottle, just like the first. This one had shot and pills in it. These pills were cyanide of potassium.”

Locke started to say something, then changed his mind. He walked several yards in silence.

“All right,” Mason said, “this is my car. Let’s get in.”

His manner was sufficiently brusque so that it left no room for refusal.

Della Street held the door open. “We’ll ride three in front,” she said. “You get in next to Mr. Mason so you can hear him and I’ll sit on the outside.”

Locke jumped into the car without any hesitation. Della Street climbed in after him and pulled the door shut.

Mason started the motor, switched on the lights and swung away from the curb.

“Where’s Nadine?” Locke asked.

“That,” Mason said, “is what I am trying to find out. We’d like to reach her before the police do.”

“And you don’t know where she is?”

“No.”

“I understood she was—”

“Yes?” Mason asked as Locke broke off.

“I don’t know where she is,” Locke said.

Mason drove steadily, his eyes straight ahead.

Locke turned suddenly to Mason, said, “You’ll have to hide me. I can’t afford to talk with the police.”

“Why not?” Mason asked.

“Because of what I know.”

Mason glanced obliquely at Della Street, then kept his eyes on the road ahead, saying nothing, waiting for Locke to talk.

At length Locke blurted, “I know she got the cyanide.”

“Keep talking,” Mason said.

“At that time one of my associates in the laboratory was making some experiments with cyanide. He had to use quite a quantity. We know what the different jars weigh down to a fraction of a gram. So by weighing the cyanide jar and the contents the technician knew exactly how much cyanide was in the jar. He had to carry on the experiment he was conducting by dropping in a little more cyanide until he secured just the reaction he wanted. Then the mixture had to sit over a thirty-six-hour period. When he had finished his experiments he knew how many cyanide pellets he had put in, but just in order to check, he weighed the cyanide jar. That was when he found there were about two dozen pills short. So he asked me what I had been using the cyanide for. I told him ‘Nothing,’ that I hadn’t opened the jar. So then he checked his weights again and it became apparent that some two dozen pills were short.”

“What did you do?” Mason asked.

“I told him that there must have been a mistake as far as the weight was concerned, or that his scales must have been off balance. I could see that he wasn’t convinced. I was able to put up a good front because at the time the explanation hadn’t dawned on me.”

“When did it dawn on you?”

“Several hours later. I kept thinking over the thing and wondering what could have happened. We suspected the janitor and gave him a going-over and then suddenly I remembered that Nadine had been in the laboratory with me and I had pointed out the cyanide jar to her.”

“So what did you do?” Mason asked. “Did you get in touch with her?”

“I tried to. It wasn’t a thing you could very well take up by telephone. Of course, the first thing that occurred to me was that something had happened and... well, you know what I would naturally think under those circumstances.”

“Suicide?” Mason asked.

Locke nodded.

“So what did you do?”

“So I went to see her. I didn’t trust to the telephone. Believe me, I dashed out there as fast as I could.”

“To the place where she was living?”

“Yes. Mosher Higley’s house.”

“You’d been there before?”

“Heavens yes. I was friendly with Mosher Higley. In fact, I met Nadine through him. My family and Higley’s have been friendly for years.”

“Tell me about the cyanide.”

“I got there and Nadine wasn’t home. She’d gone down to the market. I wanted to go to her room but there wasn’t any way I could do it. The nurses were there around the house and Cap’n Hugo is nobody’s fool. He’s a shrewd, watchful individual and... well, I made the mistake of showing my excitement when I came rushing in and asking for Nadine. After that he wouldn’t take his eyes off me.”

“So what happened?”

“So,” Locke said, “I finally confided in Cap’n Hugo. I told him that... I just told him what had happened. I asked him first if he’d noticed anything strange about Nadine.”

“Had he?”

“We both had. She’d been under a terrific strain. She was trying to act normal but she was overdoing it, and... you know how it is.”

“All right. You told Cap’n Hugo. What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth. I told him that I had reason to believe Nadine had taken some cyanide pills from the laboratory, that if so she must have them in her room and I wanted to get them.”

“And what happened?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well go there with the nurses around and Nadine due back any minute, but Cap’n Hugo... he’s an understanding sort of chap. He’ll talk a leg off of you at times, but at times when the chips are down he’s true blue.”

“What did he do?”

“He told me to wait. He went to Nadine’s room and found a bottle that had some pills in it. He brought that bottle to me and asked me if those were the pills.”

“What did you do?”

“I smelled them and it needed only one smell to tell what they were. There’s a characteristic odor of bitter almonds about cyanide and—”

“And you smelled that odor?”

“That’s right.”

“How many pills were in the bottle?” Mason asked.

“Just about the number that was missing.”

“Now wait a minute,” Mason said. “Your associate weighed the bottle containing the cyanide before his experiment and afterward?”

“Yes.”

“And he knew exactly how many cyanide pellets he had put in his experimental mixture?”

Locke nodded.

“So when he said there were two dozen pills short he wasn’t guessing, he—?”

“Actually there were twenty-five pellets short according to his calculations.”

“How many pellets were in the bottle that Cap’n Hugo gave you?” Mason asked.

“Frankly, I didn’t count them. I estimated them.”

“Why didn’t you count them?”

“Because there wasn’t time.”

“What happened?”

“I wanted to get out before Nadine returned.”

“And you did so?”

“Yes. Actually I passed her just as she was leaving the market. She didn’t see me. I was driving rather fast.”

“How far was the market from the house?”

“About two and a half blocks.”

“When did all this happen?”

“The Saturday Mosher Higley died.”

“What time?”

“Around eleven-thirty.”

“Did you see Newburn’s car?”

“Not his car. He wasn’t there, but Mrs. Newburn was upstairs visiting with Mosher Higley.”

“What was Cap’n Hugo doing when you arrived?”

“Washing windows in the dining room.”

“To get to Nadine’s room it’s necessary to go through the kitchen?”

“That’s right.”

“You didn’t go as far as her room?”

“Just to the head of the stairs leading to the basement. I waited there to warn Cap’n Hugo if she should come in.”

“Did you notice whether there was chocolate cooking on the Stove?”

“Yes. There was chocolate melting in the double boiler but the fire had been turned off.”

“Later on, did you ask Nadine about the poison?”

“I intended to question her that afternoon but... well, you know what happened. Mosher Higley died and she was all broken up. The doctor gave her a sedative. She slept for nearly twenty-four hours, and after she wakened she was like a changed woman. I... I knew Mosher Higley had been treating her like a dog and... I just felt it wasn’t necessary to have any conversation with her then. I felt there was no chance she’d try to... well, to do away with herself.”

Mason drove for several seconds in thoughtful silence.

“So now,” Locke said, “you can understand how it happened that I confided in Cap’n Hugo about that confession. I didn’t want you to think I was a completely irresponsible gossip. But you can see what happened. After Dr. Denair got that tape-recorded statement from Nadine she told me about it and, of course, that put an entirely new slant on things, so I reassured her as best I could and—”

“Did she tell you at that time about having taken the cyanide from your laboratory?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you tell her about what had happened to it?”

“Nothing. She said it was missing from her room and I... well, I didn’t say a word because I knew that it couldn’t have been used in connection with Mosher Higley’s death and I felt certain that sooner or later we could convince her that Higley had died a purely natural death.”

“But you did go to Cap’n Hugo.”

“I went to Cap’n Hugo and told him about the tape recording and about what Nadine felt had happened.”

“And then what?”

“Cap’n Hugo said that he thought the proper thing to do was to let Mrs. Newburn know about that confession.”

“Why?”

“Because Mrs. Newburn would start an investigation, and after the investigation was started Cap’n Hugo could tell about having removed the poison from Nadine’s room and the whole thing could be cleared up, otherwise he was afraid Dr. Denair would preserve her confidence as a professional secret and she’d have that thing weighing on her mind.”

“You detected the distinctive odor of cyanide about those pills?” Mason asked.

“Yes. I unscrewed the top of the bottle and smelled.”

“But you don’t know how many pills were in the bottle?”

“No.”

“Let’s have it straight,” Mason said. “Could you make an estimate?”

“Well, frankly, I didn’t think... I didn’t count.”

Mason looked at him and said, “Locke, you’re lying.”

Abruptly Locke’s lips quivered.

“Go on,” Mason said, “how many pills were in the bottle?”

“Twenty-one,” Locke said.

“That’s better,” Mason told him. “Now I understand why you don’t want to talk with the police.”

“Mr. Mason, I’ll never admit that to the police. I’ll... I’ll lie.”

“You think you will,” Mason told him. “You don’t have any idea of what you’re going up against. You aren’t a good enough liar to convince the police. Your associate will tell the police how many pills were short. He’ll also tell the police that he told you the number of pills that were short. The police won’t believe for a minute that you took that bottle of pills from Cap’n Hugo without counting them. Now did Cap’n Hugo count them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you ever ask him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I... I was afraid to.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “Now then, the police will break you wide open. They’ll get the truth out of you. And when they get the truth it’ll make a case of cold-blooded, deliberate murder against Nadine Farr. They’ll feel that she had taken four cyanide pills out of that bottle and had them ready to put into Mosher Higley’s chocolate, that she did put them in Mosher Higley’s chocolate and that he died of cyanide poisoning. What did you do with those pills?”

“I drove into a service station, flushed the pills down the toilet, washed out the bottle several times, then put it in the wastepaper container.”

Mason thought over that information.

“I tell you I won’t tell them, Mr. Mason. I... I’d let them—”

“You’re talking to keep your spirits up,” Mason said. “You know damn well that when the party gets rough you can’t hold out on them. You can’t lie well enough. You’re too conscientious a lad and you don’t know about police tactics. They’ll hammer it out of you.”

“All right,” Locke said desperately. “What am I going to do?”

Mason’s face was grim. “Right now,” he said, “I’m damned if I know.”