The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

Ten

Paul Drake slid into his favorite position in Mason’s big chair and said, “Well, I’m gradually beginning to get some facts pieced together, Perry. It’s a mess.”

“What have you found, Paul?”

Drake said, “This man, Hackley, is going to be a tough nut to crack, Perry. Apparently the police don’t know anything about him, but to my mind he’s the key factor in the whole situation.”

“Anything about the time of death?” Mason asked.

“As nearly as the doctors can tell from a post-mortem examination, which, of course, hasn’t been completed as yet, it happened right around one o’clock. That’s taking body temperature of the corpse when it was found, considering rigor mortis and a few other things. Police are making a tentative guess on the time as one o’clock this morning.”

Mason said, “She left her apartment at ten-nineteen, is that right?”

“That’s right. Of course, the medical authorities can’t fix the time of death with stop-watch precision. She could have been killed as soon as she got to Oceanside or it could have been an hour later.”

Mason said, “She had her tank filled with gasoline. A murderer would hardly have killed her and then filled the car with gas. She must have done it, herself.”

Drake nodded.

“And because she didn’t get any windshield service, it wasn’t done at a service station.”

“You think she stopped at this ranch?” Drake asked.

“I’m virtually certain of it.”

Drake lit a cigarette, studied the smoke which drifted up from the end of it with thoughtful, contemplative eyes, said slowly, “The police have some theories about the killing, Perry.”

“What are they?”

“They don’t think she was killed at the place where the body was found.”

“No?”

“No. They think she opened the door and let someone get in. He was driving the car. She was sitting over in the right-hand seat. Then this person picked an advantageous moment, whipped a revolver out, shot her in the side of the head, pushed the body over to the far side of the car and then drove it down to the place where the body was found. Then this murderer, whoever he was, got out and, after he’d left the automobile, pulled Ethel Garvin’s body over so that it was behind the steering wheel, making it look as though she’d been shot while she was driving the car.”

“Wait a minute,” Mason said. “That doesn’t coincide with the facts, Paul. Your man looked around for tracks when he got there and couldn’t find any leaving the automobile. Of course, it wasn’t the best ground in the world for tracking but, nevertheless, he should have been able...”

“I know,” Drake interrupted, “but get this, Perry. Another car had apparently been parked down at the place where the body was found. When this man drove up with the car containing Ethel Garvin’s body, he was very careful to inch the car into exactly the proper position so that he could open the door of one car and step into the other car. Then he drove away in the other car after pulling the body over behind the steering wheel and dropping the gun.”

Mason said impatiently, “That’s a goofy way to commit a murder.”

“Don’t be too certain it wasn’t done just about that way,” Drake said. “The evidence checks, Perry.”

“What sort of evidence?”

“Well, to begin with, this getaway car was driven down there and parked.”

“How can the police tell it was parked?”

“They can’t be absolutely certain, but that’s what they think. They can see where someone got out of the car and walked across a patch of soft dirt and then over to the highway, but they can’t find where anyone ever walked back to the car.”

“Go on,” Mason said.

“Apparently that gun can be traced to Garvin.”

Mason sat bolt upright in his chair. “What’s that?” he asked.

Drake said, “The police traced that gun to Frank Bynum. He told them about giving it to his sister, Virginia. The police were right on your heels in getting hold of Virginia. She stalled around for a while and then told them a story about watching the office of the mining company in order to protect her mother’s investment. She even told them about you catching her out there on the fire escape and making her come in. She said that’s when she left the gun. She thought you had seen the gun, so she made a motion as though she was throwing it down in the alley and then she swung around to come down the fire escape, gave you a glimpse of legs and, using her body as a shield, put the gun on the platform of the fire escape. She said she thought she could depend on you to be looking at the legs instead of the gun.”

“Tut, tut,” Della Street said in mock reproach.

“I was, too,” Mason admitted. “Go ahead, Paul. Then what happened?”

“From there on,” Drake said, “the police have an interesting trail. It seems that the next day Garvin entered the office right after he’d consulted you. He walked over to the window and stood there, moodily gazing down into the alley below the window. Then something caught his eye and he said to George L. Denby, the secretary-treasurer, ‘Denby, what the devil’s this out on the fire escape?’ ”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “So far it sounds to me like a scenario.”

“Well, it all checks,” Drake said. “Denby went over and looked out of the window and said, ‘My God, Mr. Garvin, it’s a gun!’ Frank Livesey, the president of the corporation, was there, and he came over. The three of them stood looking, and then Livesey got out of the window, onto the fire escape, and picked up the gun. He looked it over and said, ‘It’s fully loaded,’ and handed it to Denby. Denby looked it over, then handed it to Garvin. Garvin did a little detective work. He said, ‘There isn’t a speck of rust on it. If it had been left out there very-long it would have been rusty. Someone must have been out on that fire escape with a gun. I wonder who it could have been.’

“They had some talk back and forth, and Denby wanted to call the police, but Garvin said he’d think the matter over. He didn’t want to have any disadvantageous publicity just before the stockholders’ meeting.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “The thing is really getting interesting now. We have a gun, which subsequently turns out to be a murder weapon, with the prints of three men on it.”

“All of them legitimately placed there,” Drake said. “But here’s the thing. Livesey was on his way out to get a cup of coffee. He said he’d arrived early that morning to do some work on the records so everything would be ready for the stockholders’ meeting, and Garvin said something to this effect: ‘Livesey, I’m just about ready to leave with my wife on a little trip. I’m going to take a short vacation before that stockholders’ meeting, just get away from business for a little while. My car’s parked down there in front — the big convertible. I wish you’d open the glove compartment and put that gun in there. I want to look it over. It’s certainly a nice weapon.’ ”

“Then what?”

“Livesey went down to get his cup of coffee, looked around to make sure no one was watching him, popped the gun in the glove compartment, went out and got his coffee and came back. They talked for a while, and Garvin left some last-minute instructions. Then he and Denby rode down in the elevator together. I believe, by the way, Perry, these last-minute instructions had to do with having his secretary put through a check for a thousand-dollar retainer to you.”

“So that’s the story of the gun,” Drake said. “Denby remembers riding down in the elevator with Garvin and just as he walked away he saw Garvin check the glove compartment to make certain the gun was there. Then Denby got in his own car and left.”

“The girl would be the one that the police would normally go to work on, but she says she has a perfect alibi, that after she entered your office, you searched her very thoroughly...”

Della Street gave a low whistle.

“All kidding aside, Paul, this young woman had been prowling around my office,” Mason said. “For all I knew, she was sneaking down the fire escape, ready to take a pot shot at me as I was lying there, sleeping. I certainly didn’t intend to invite her into the office, then have her pull a gun and start working on me.”

“I don’t blame you,” Drake said.

Mason said to Della, “Get Edward Garvin on the phone, Della.”

Della Street put through the call.

“How about the time element?” Mason asked. “Have police been checking up on what everyone did, why, where and when?”

“You mean as to an alibi for the time of the murder?”

“Yes.”

“They’ve done a little preliminary checking. Understand, Perry, the police don’t take me into their confidence. I have to pick up what I can from pumping newspaper reporters and getting tips here and there.”

Mason said, “You always manage to do pretty well, Paul. What are the police doing?”

“Well, to begin with, they checked on Denby. Denby was up here all night working on the books, dictating some correspondence and getting data ready for the stockholders’ meeting. He says he worked all night. He looks like it. And he had a whole night’s dictation on his secretary’s desk when she arrived this morning. What’s more this story agrees absolutely with a story he told Livesey when Livesey rang him up earlier and before anyone knew that Mrs. Garvin had been murdered. It also agrees with the story that Virginia Bynum told the police a half hour or so later when they located her, by tracing the numbers on the gun. She was watching from her station on the fire escape again last night. They’ve asked her to describe just what she saw, and her story really gives Denby an alibi. She describes everything he did. Not that the police figure Denby has any motive.”

“The story Virginia told me and told the police is fantastic — but some fantastic stories arc true. What about Livesey?” Mason asked.

“Livesey’s a bachelor. He was at home in bed. He says, unfortunately, he can’t furnish any alibi because he was sleeping alone and what would the police suggest in the line of preventive measures in the future. The police suggested matrimony.”

“They would,” Mason said.

“But, of course, the one the police want to talk with now,” Drake said, “is Garvin. They understand he’s going to be here for the stockholders’ meeting and as far as anyone knows he’s simply out on a second honeymoon with his wife, so the police are planning to come down like a thousand tons of brick when he...”

“Here’s your call, chief,” Della Street interrupted.

“Garvin on the line?”

“Yes.”

Mason picked up the receiver, said, “Hello, Garvin. Mason talking. I want to ask you some questions. I want you to be very, very careful about your answers.”

“Good heavens, Mason,” Garvin said, “this is awful! This is terrible! This is the worst thing... Why did you leave this morning? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I thought you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“My God, Mason, something like that happens and you simply get up and leave — Mason, I want to come back up there. I want to find out what this thing is all about. I want to...”

“You stay right there,” Mason said, “and keep your shirt on. Now, don’t worry about that stockholders’ meeting at two o’clock this afternoon. Della has been working over that list of names you gave her, and we have a bunch of staunch and loyal supporters of yours coming in here in person. That will throw all proxies they’ve signed out the window. We’re going to be able to control the stockholders’ meeting all right.”

“But I want to be there, Mason. I must be there. If I should lose control of that company...”

“You just sit tight,” Mason said, “and quit worrying. Don’t do anything. Don’t talk with anyone. Don’t stir out of the hotel until I can have a chance to see you, and if anyone should find you, then don’t answer any questions. Simply refuse to say a word until you’ve seen me.”

“But, hang it, Mason, that will put me in a false light.”

“I can’t help that, Garvin. There are a lot of angles to this thing that you don’t know anything about yet. Now listen carefully. I want you to answer questions, and I want you to be very careful about your nouns.”

“What do you mean, nouns?”

“I mean nouns,” Mason said. “A noun is an object. Now listen to this. The other morning when you were standing in your office you looked out of your window and noticed something on the fire escape, some object?”

“On the fire escape?”

“Yes, a metallic object, something heavy.”

“Oh, yes, I remember. Why, yes, I pointed out this...”

“Careful,” Mason warned. “Let’s keep the conversation on an ambiguous note, if possible, and remember that the walls of that telephone partition you’re talking from are paper-thin. The front door is all right but the wall between that and the other telephone booth is just like paper. Now, what happened to that object?”

“Livesey crawled out of the window and picked it up. We talked about it and I... I told Livesey to put it in the glove compartment of my car. He said he was going out to get a cup of coffee, and I wanted to look the thing over — to tell you the truth, Mr. Mason, I’d entirely forgotten about that... that object. It must be in the car now.”

“Go out and take a look and see if it is,” Mason said.

“Right now?”

“Right now. Just leave the receiver off the hook and go out and take a look. I’ll hold the line. Your car’s still in front?”

“Yes.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Mason said, “this is important. You didn’t turn your car keys in to the woman who runs the hotel last night?”

“No, I forgot. I intended to. I put them in my pocket and... but it was all right. They didn’t need to move the car.”

“That’s all right. The keys stayed in your pocket all night?”

“Why, yes, of course.”

“The car wasn’t moved?”

“No, certainly not.”

“And the doors were locked?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“Why, of course. The car’s just where I left it last night when I went to bed.”

Mason said, “Go on out and take a look and tell me if that object is still there.”

“All right,” Garvin said. “Hold the phone.”

Mason waited, holding the phone, drumming impatiently with his finger tips on the edge of the desk for some fifteen seconds until he could hear over the phone the noise made by Garvin’s pounding feet as he hurried back toward the telephone. There was the sound of the receiver being moved, then Garvin’s excited voice, “It’s gone, Mason, it’s gone!”

“All right,” Mason said, “now when did it go?”

“My gosh, it must have been taken before we left Los Angeles. No one could have taken it out here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, of course — hang it, Mason, how do I know? All I know is that it’s gone — I know that Livesey put it in there.”

“Did you look in the glove compartment after...”

“Yes. Right after I came downstairs I looked in the glove compartment to make certain that Livesey had put it there. It was there.”

“And when did you next look in the glove compartment?”

“Just now. That’s the only time I’ve had it open... Wait a minute, no. Hold everything, Mason, Lorraine looked in there shortly after we got started. I told her to open the glove compartment and get out my sunglasses. I wanted to put them on.”

“Where’s Lorraine?”

“Right here. Right out in the lobby. Just a minute.”

“Don’t get excited and say anything where people can hear you,” Mason cautioned. “Get her in the phone booth with you.”

“Okay.”

Mason could hear the sound of a door opening and low-voiced conversation. Then Garvin said, “She’s here.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Ask her if she remembers looking in the glove compartment for your dark glasses and...”

“I already have,” Garvin said. “She says that she got my glasses out of the glove compartment all right, but that an object such as you mention was not in there.”

“But you know it was in there when you came downstairs?”

“Yes.”

“And did you drive the car away immediately then?”

“I... no, wait a minute. I went into the cigar counter to get some cigars and I shook a game of twenty-six with the girl at the counter. Then I got in the car and drove out and picked up my wife. She had the baggage all packed and we got started right away.”

Mason said, “All right. Sit tight. Hold everything until I get down there. I’ll be there by dark.”