The Case of the Fan-Dancer's Horse

Chapter number 14

The hush of early morning still touched the desert, as welcome as cool finger tips to the forehead of a sick man.

Mason turned his car into Frank Loring Nolan’s ranch driveway, swung out in front of the barn and then made a circle which brought the car near the back door of the ranch.

A bobtail dog started barking in the nervous, excitable manner of a dog who expects to be silenced by his master and wants to get in all possible noise-making cacophonies before he is stopped.

The back door opened. A big man, whose stomach pushed out bib overalls, grinned amiably at the car and said to the dog, “Shut up, Butch.”

The dog wagged his bobtail in recognition of his master’s order and kept right on barking.

The man reached down to the ground, picked up a small pebble and threw it in the general direction of the dog, who promptly ceased barking, circled around past some shrubs and sat down in the shade where he could observe proceedings, mouth open, tongue hanging out.

The man walked over to the automobile.

Mason opened the door, got out and smiled a greeting. “Your name Nolan?”

“That’s right.”

“Mine’s Mason.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “I suppose you keep pretty busy.”

“We always find something to do.”

“I don’t want to take up your time, but I’m interested in...”

“Finding out about a horse,” Nolan interrupted, the grin spreading over his face.

“How did you know?” Mason asked.

Nolan laughed. “That horse,” he said, “—it looks as though that horse was gettin’ famous.”

“How come?”

“Darned if I know, but there certainly have been a lot of people asking about him. First some fellow came in and said he was representing the owner. He seemed like a nice-appearing young chap and wanted to pay whatever charges were due and take the horse along. He knew all about the horse, so I guessed there was no question but what he was telling the truth.”

Mason said, reassuringly, “Yes, I know about him. He really was representing the owner.”

“Well,” Nolan said, “I’m the easygoing type. The wife is a little more suspicious. She took down the license number on the man’s automobile.”

Mason nodded approvingly.

“A couple of hours after he’d pulled out,” Nolan went on, “darned if some fellow didn’t come in here that had a chip on his shoulder and wanted to know all about the horse and all that. He turned out to be a police detective from the city. He wanted to know how I knew that the man was representing the owner of the horse, and I told him that he had a complete description and said he was representing the owner and that was enough for me. Then this fellow said, yes, whenever any slicker sold the Brooklyn Bridge to a sucker he always claimed to be the owner.

“Well, that started me thinking, and started me worrying a little bit. I went in and talked with the wife, and she said she’d taken down the license number of the automobile. We gave that to the fellow and he went away.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well,” Nolan said, “last night the sheriff came down to see me and he asked me all about the horse, wanted to know where he came from and all that, and told me that I didn’t need to be too loquacious in case people came around asking questions.

“So there you are, Mr. Mason. I just don’t want to be too loquacious about some things.”

“Well,” Mason said, casually, “if you’ll tell me the things that you can talk about and the things that you can’t talk about, why then we’ll avoid the things you can’t talk about and...”

The man threw back his head and laughed. “Guess you must be a lawyer.”

“That’s right,” Mason admitted.

“Say, wait a minute, I’ve heard that name somewhere. You aren’t Perry Mason, are you?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, well, well, I’m going to shake hands with you all over again. I’ve read a lot about you. Never thought I’d meet you under circumstances like this. Say, why are you interested in the horse?”

“Generally,” Mason said, “I’m trying to find out something that may help a client. There are some things that a lawyer can’t talk about, you know.”

Nolan said sympathetically, “If you’ll just tell me the things you can’t talk about, Mr. Mason, why then we’ll know what not to discuss.”

They both laughed.

“Tell me,” Mason said, “when did the horse come here?”

“On the morning of the eleventh. About half an hour before daylight.”

“How did he come?”

“Same way horses always come, partner. He delivered himself, walked right in on his four feet.”

Mason smiled.

“How else would you expect him to come?”

“Shucks, I don’t know,” Mason said. “The way you’re acting I thought he might have been eased down on the ranch with a parachute from some bombing plane.”

“Nope, he came walking in a little before daylight, and the dog started barking. That damn dog. Never barks at the moon, or anything of that sort. Whenever he barks, you know there’s something wrong, but he just keeps on barking until you get up to find out what it’s all about.

“Well, I thought maybe a skunk or a wildcat was prowling around the chicken coop, so I got up and took my .410 gauge shotgun, and started out with a flashlight. The dog picked me up as soon as I came out, and ran ahead to show me what he was barking at. And doggone, if it wasn’t this horse standing there all saddled and bridled and nickering a little.”

“And what did you do?”

“Took him into the barn, tied him up for a while, then took his bridle off, gave him some hay, and finally took his saddle off.”

“See anything peculiar when you took the saddle off?”

Nolan pushed his lips together in a thin, tight line.

Mason said, “I take it that’s one of the things you were told not to talk about.”

“I ain’t said a thing,” Nolan said. “If you want to read my mind, I can’t stop you.”

“Did you go out and look for tracks?” Mason asked.

“Now there’s a sensible question,” Nolan said. “You sound as though you lived in the country. Nobody else has asked me anything like that.”

“Did you?”

“Yep. I went out and looked at tracks. The horse had come down the road from the north. He’d been on the shoulder of the road, where his tracks were left in the dust. Then he’d moved back on the highway. It was hard to tell just how long he’d been on the highway. I suppose I could have tracked him clean back by taking a little time, but right then I didn’t see any particular reason why I should. I walked back for maybe half a mile or so, trying to see if there was any rider spilled along the road. I didn’t find anybody and by that time a few cars were coming along and I felt that if someone had fallen off the night before, and was still there, one of the cars would have picked up the rider.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I know the horse had been scared.”

“How could you tell that?”

“Well, you see these western horses are trained a little different from the eastern horses. A good cattle horse will stand still just as long as the reins are down on the ground. For that reason cattlemen use a divided rein a lot.”

Mason nodded.

“Now I tested this horse out a couple of times,” Nolan went on. “I’d take him out and ride him a ways, get off of him and drop the reins just to see what he’d do.”

“What did he do?”

“Stood just as though he’d been tied. Horses have got a lot of sense, Mr. Mason, and when a horse that’s been trained to stand, the way this horse has, decides he’s going to quit a place, it’s because there’s something in that place that he don’t like at all. This horse had one broken bridle rein.”

“Anybody else ask you about this?”

“Hell no, the other fellows that were here knew it all. You’re the first one that’s been here that didn’t act on the assumption he knew all the answers and I was a dumb hick... And,” Nolan grinned and went on, “you didn’t do so good yourself the first minute or two.”

Mason laughed. “Did you try frightening the horse to see how highstrung he was?”

“Well, now,” Nolan said, “I don’t know as though I’m supposed to talk about this.”

“No one told you not to?”

“Nope. No one else ever thought anything about it.”

“I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t talk then.”

“Well you see, it’s like this, Air. Mason. I try to keep friendly with the sheriff down here, and I guess the sheriff is friendly with the police up there in the city, and I suppose there’s some reason why they don’t want me to talk about some things in connection with this horse.”

Mason said, “Now let’s be frank with each other, Nolan. If there was a bullet hole in the cantle of that saddle and the officers told you not to say anything about that bullet hole or about the bullet being embedded in there, so I wouldn’t want you to talk about it.”

Nolan grinned.

“If, on the other hand,” Mason said, “you wondered what could have frightened the horse and took the horse out and tried an experiment, I’d like to know what you found out.”

“Well, I was sort of wondering.”

“So,” Mason said, “I take it that you saddled the horse, put on the bridle, rode him out in the field, got off and let the reins drop and waited to see what he’d do.”

“That’s right.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing. He stood there.”

“So then,” Mason said, “you fired a gun. Is that right?”

“I guess you know something about animals yourself, don’t you?” Nolan asked, due respect in his voice, “or else you’re a mind reader. I fired a gun and that horse gave one snort and got out of there fast. I guess he’d be going yet if I hadn’t closed the gate in the pasture lot.”

“And the police didn’t ask you anything about that?”

“Nope.”

Mason said, “I think I’d like to meet your wife.”

Nolan said, “She’s sort of suspicious of strangers.”

“I’d like to meet her just the same.”

“Come on in.”

Nolan led the way in through the back door of the house into a kitchen fragrant with the aroma of cooking. A thin, parchment-faced woman stood over by the sink washing dishes.

“This is my wife,” Nolan said. “This is Mr. Mason.”

She looked up, dried her hands on a towel, glanced at Mason suspiciously, smiled, walked over and extended her hand. “How do you do,” she said.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Mason told her. “Your husband tells me you’re the suspicious member of the family.”

Her thin lips formed a straight line across her face. Her eyes snapped. “He’s always saying things like that.”

“Are you?”

“Well, somebody has to look out for things around here. The way Frank Nolan is, you’d think everybody in the world was a lodge brother, or something. He’d give them the shirt off his back. He thinks everybody’s honest as the day is long.”

Mason gravely took a billfold from his pocket, took out a fifty-dollar bill, handed it to Mrs. Nolan.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That,” Mason said, “is a little encouragement to you to be suspicious.”

“I don’t get it.”

Mason said, “Your husband is a loquacious, gregarious sort of chap. He’s friendly with people.”

“Too friendly. What’s the money for?”

Mason said, “In case anyone else comes to ask questions about the horse, you might do the talking.”

Nolan laughed. “I’m afraid there wouldn’t be much talking done. She...”

“You keep out of this, Frank Nolan,” his wife snapped. “I’m handling it. I guess if this man wants to pay me to keep you from talking, I’m going to try to earn the money. What don’t you want him to talk about?”

“Anything,” Mason said.

“Well,” Mrs. Nolan said, “I guess that’s a pretty easy way to earn five dollars. I’ll keep him shut up.”

“That’s not a five-dollar bill,” Mason said.

“It isn’t?”

Mason shook his head.

She moved over and held it up to the light, looked at it, and then suddenly said, “Oh my God! It’s fifty!”

Mason smiled at her incredulous surprise, shook hands with Frank Nolan, said, “Thanks a lot,” and headed his car north, the bobtailed dog racing along snapping at his front wheel until the car hit the paved road.

A little over a mile and a half to the north, Mason turned in where a mailbox had the name “Campo.”

An old Mexican woman, whose right arm was in a sling, walked slowly along the wide porch of an un-painted house, entered through a door and disappeared.

Jose Campo came up to the car. “Good morning,” he said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Mason said, “I wonder if you recognize me?”

“I... Señor, I have seen your face somewhere before, but I can’t tell you where it was.”

Mason said, “We came to inquire about the woman with the broken arm. We’re from the insurance company.”

“Señor, please give it no thought whatever,” Campo said, moving his hands in a gesture of dismissal. “It is nothing! I have made no claim. There is no insurance.”

“But the other man had insurance.”

“No, no, no, Señor. It is all right. We claim nothing.”

Mason said, “The arm is getting along all right?”

“The doctor says it is all right.”

“What doctor did you take her to?” Mason asked.

“A doctor in Redlands.”

“Why go all the way to Redlands?”

“There are good doctors in Redlands.”

“Some of the best,” Mason agreed, “but why go all the way to Redlands?”

“She wanted it, Señor.”

Mason said, “All right. Now tell me about the horse.”

“About the horse... About... Ah, yes, it is the Señor who was on the highway at the time of the accident. That is right, the Señor Mason. Ah, yes, I remember now.”

“And I want to know about the horse Callender gave you to keep for him,” Mason said.

“No, no, no, it was not Callender. The other man.”

“What other man?”

“The beeg one.”

Mason said, “You know the fan-dancer, Cherie Chi-Chi?”

“But yes, of course. She came to us with this man about the horse and... oh, there was much trouble over that horse.”

“Now let’s get the thing straight,” Mason said. “Begin at the beginning and tell me about it.”

“It was the day of the accident — that was a most unfortunate day.”

“What happened?”

“It started when this man and the Cherie Chi-Chi, the fan-dancer, came to the ranch with the horse.”

“How did they bring the horse to the ranch?”

“It was night. The beeg man is riding the horse. That is all I know.”

“And Cherie Chi-Chi, the fan-dancer?”

“She came in the automobile, driving very slowly along behind the horse. It was night. First I can hear the clump, clump, clump, clump, clump of the horse on the pavement. Then there is the sound of an automobile going very slow. Then lights shine on my house and these people come here. They are very nice people, and they want me to keep the horse-for a few days. I am to keep him in the stable where no one will see him, and I am to take very good care of the saddle and of the bridle.”

“Go on.”

“And they pay me well. Oh, they pay me very well indeed, Señor. Of that there can be no complaint.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then on this day, this day of the accident...”

“Wednesday, the eleventh?” Mason asked.

“I believe so. It is a Wednesday. Yes, I think it is the eleventh.”

“And what happened?”

“The man telephones me. I am to put the saddle and the bridle on the horse and have him ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“That I do not know,” Campo said. “Simply I am told to have the horse saddled and bridled in the night and leave the saddle and the bridle on.”

“And what else?”

“I am told that if questions are asked me about the horse I am to say that he came to the ranch; that he had the saddle and the bridle just as I have put them on this night; that I am afraid perhaps I am going to get into trouble so I have decided to put on the saddle and bridle and take the horse in to the sheriff.”

“All right, what happened?”

“I have the saddle and the bridle on the horse and then the thing happens. Not that night, but in the morning.”

“What?”

“It is early. It is not yet daylight and there is much noise among the chickens. It is a coyote that is very, very smart. I have had trouble with him before. He comes always long before daylight.

“My aunt, Maria Gonzales, she is a light sleeper and she wakens me. I hear the noise in the chicken coop and I take the shotgun. I run out of the back door with a flashlight. I hold the flashlight and see the two eyes of the coyote and I shoot the gun.”

“And what happened?”

“I miss the coyote and the horse runs away.”

“Where did he go?”

“That I do not know. I think that he certainly will not go far. It is dark and I am chasing after the coyote. Then I think that when it is daylight I will get the horse. One can do nothing wandering after a horse in the nighttime. I have missed the coyote. He is a devil, that one. Too smart.”

“So you let the horse go?”

“No, no, Señor! I did not let him go! I went back to bed. I am waiting for daylight to hunt for the horse.”

“And then what happens?”

“It is this way,” Campo explained. “This man, this one who made the arrangements for the horse, I think his name is Harry. Yes, that is right. It is Harry. The last name is... ah yes, I have it. The last name is Cogswell — Harry Cogswell. He wrote it down for me on paper. Harry Cogswell. That is right; that is the name. Harry Cogswell telephoned. I am to take the horse next day to the sheriff. And I am also to take two fans that this girl left on the ranch when she was here.”

“All right,” Mason said. “What about the fans?”

“I ask Harry about the fans and he says that I am to deliver the fans to him at Brawley. The horse is to go to the sheriff. But the horse, he is now gone. When it is daylight I do not find him anywhere.

“That horse, he will stand for hours with the reins down on the ground — stand still as though he is tied. I am expecting to find him standing in the driveway, perhaps as far as the gate, but Señor, what could I do? It comes daylight and the horse is not in sight.”

“All right, what did you do?”

“So I have my aunt, Maria Gonzales, take these fans to deliver to this man, Harry, in Brawley, and I go to look for the horse.”

“Did you find him?”

“That I do not do, Señor. I dare not ask questions, because Harry has told me that the horse is secret — he is to be kept without saying anything to anyone.”

“Couldn’t you track him?”

“Certainly I track him. I track him down the road. He is traveling with his reins dragging, and then he finds an open gate and wanders off into the field, and yet he is not in the field. There is another open gate at the far end of the field, and then stubble, and then more roads, but I do not find his tracks any more. He is gone.”

“So what did you do?”

“So when I cannot find him, I do not know what to do. I think I can find him by asking questions of neighbors; but is it permitted to ask questions of neighbors? That is what I do not know.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“I know that my aunt, Maria Gonzales, is going to see this man, Harry, and I decide that I must go very quick to see this man Harry and ask if it is permitted to ask questions.”

“So what happened?”

“So I am driving very fast to overtake my aunt, Maria Gonzales, and... well, you know the rest. There is the accident. She has the broken arm.”

“And the fans?”

“I swear to you, Señor, that I did not steal those fans, nor did Maria Gonzales steal those fans. We are honest people. We are poor, but we do not steal. Those fans were taken from the car of my aunt. I swear that to you, Señor. They were in the trunk and my aunt Maria had been very careful to put newspapers in the trunk so that the fans would not get dirty.”

“What about Harry?”

“He is very angry, that one! He thinks I have stolen the fans. He says I am too lazy even to keep the horse. There is much trouble. He says it is not permitted to ask questions. It is a very unlucky day.”

Mason said, “That piece of paper that the man gave you with his name on it. You have that?”

“No, it is gone.”

“Could you find it?”

“No, Señor. I could not find it.”

“But his name is Harry Cogswell and you would know him if you saw him again?”

“That is most certain.”

Mason shook hands. “It will be well for you to remember what happened,” he said.