The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

Chapter number 12

Shortly before noon Della Street’s telephone rang. She answered it, said, “Yes... oh yes... just a moment. I’ll see.”

She turned to Perry Mason and said, “Sidney Hardwick of Hardwick, Carson and Redding.”

Mason nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Mason is here. He’ll talk with Mr. Hardwick. Put your party on, please.”

Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Hello, Mason speaking... Hello, Mr. Hardwick.”

Hardwick said, “Mr. Mason, I’m in rather a peculiar position. I’d like to have a conference with you and Mr. James Etna.”

“When?” Mason asked.

“At your earliest convenience.”

“Where?”

“At any place you want. At your office if you wish.”

“What about?”

“It’s about a matter that puzzles me, and, very frankly, Mr. Mason, it may be of some possible advantage or some possible disadvantage to your client, Josephine Kempton. I am assuming that you’re anxious to get information concerning her connection with the case, and I’m anxious to get some information from you gentlemen.”

“How soon?” Mason asked.

“Just as soon as you conveniently can arrange it.”

Mason said, “Be over here in fifteen minutes. I’ll have Etna here.”

He hung up the phone, said to Della Street, “Get James Etna on the phone, Della, and tell him that we have an important conference with Hardwick. Tell him to come right over.”

Della Street nodded.

Mason said, “I’ll be back by the time Etna gets here,” and walked down the corridor to Paul Drake’s office.

“Drake in?” Mason asked the switchboard operator.

She nodded and said, “Go right on in, Mr. Mason. He’s alone. I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

“Thanks,” Mason said, opened the gate in the low partition which walled off the small reception room, and walked down the long corridor to Drake’s office.

Drake was hanging up the phone just as Mason entered.

“Hello,” Mason said. “Anything new?”

“I’m digging away,” Drake said, “getting a lot of material but I haven’t correlated it yet. It’s a lot of miscellaneous odds and ends.”

Mason said, “Sidney Hardwick, who was Benjamin Addicks’ attorney in his lifetime, and who presumably is representing the estate, is coming over right away to see me. I can tell from the way he’s acting that there’s something on his mind, something that is bothering him to beat the devil. Any idea what it is?”

Drake shook his head. “Not yet I haven’t. Give me another two or three hours and I’ll probably find out.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll find out,” Mason said, grinning.

Drake said, “A preliminary test shows that Addicks had .32 percent of alcohol in his blood when he was killed. That was enough to put him into a deep sleep. There is evidence indicating he had previously had an even greater concentration of blood alcohol.

“I don’t need to educate you on the mathematics of alcoholism, Perry, but generally the confused state of intoxication starts with around.15 percent of alcohol in the blood. At .3 percent to .4 percent the subject is really and truly drunk, that is, stuporous, staggering drunk.

“Now Benjamin Addicks had .32 percent of alcohol in his blood. The police know exactly when Mrs. Kempton arrived at the house. They’ve been able to check with the driver of the bus. She was actually on the bus she claimed to have taken.

“It’s a cinch that Addicks at that point was too intoxicated to think clearly. Apparently he’d been drinking right up to the time that he lay down on the bed and passed out. Blood alcohol decreases at the rate of.02 to.04 percent per hour after absorption.”

“What caused him to start a drinking spree like that, Paul?”

“Damned if I know. It must have been something important.”

“Find out anything about those telephone bills?” Mason asked.

“Not yet, but I’ll have that information within an hour. I’m arranging to get copies of all the telephone bills.”

“How are you doing that, Paul?”

“I’d rather not tell you. I’m sticking my neck out a little. The point is that I’m getting them.”

“As soon as you get some information, let me know. Now tell me about this Alan Blevins. Is he a hypnotist?”

“I’ll say he is, a darn good one. Incidentally, he doubts if a gorilla can be hypnotized by ordinary methods. That is, he claimed he had induced the equivalent of a hypnotic state in a gorilla, but when he had done that there was no way to make suggestions direct to the subconscious mind. With a human being you do it by speech. With a gorilla you have no bridge from your mind to his. The animal merely sleeps. There’s hardly any way of telling whether it’s a hypnotically induced sleep or a natural sleep.”

“Blevins had been discharged?”

“Yes.”

“Some words?”

“I gathered there was no ill feeling. Nathan Fallon brought him the bad news. Addicks even refused to discuss the matter. The whole crew was fired at once.”

“So Blevins hated Addicks?”

“Could have.”

“Find out where he was last night,” Mason said.

“I already have,” Drake said. “He is a bachelor. His wife divorced him two years ago. He said he was home, that he watched television and then went to bed.”

“No corroboration?”

“Just his word, so far. Want me to check it further?”

“I sure do. Why did his wife divorce him, Paul?”

“Mental cruelty. She alleged he was always hypnotizing her, trying to use her as a subject, making her ridiculous and all of that.”

“Find out more about it,” Mason said. “Locate her, Paul. I want to talk with her.”

Drake made a note.

“Anything else?”

“Guess that’s all. I’ll get on back and see what Hardwick wants. He should be about due.”

“One other thing,” Drake said. “Blevins tells me he taught Addicks how to hypnotize.”

“Why?”

“Addicks wanted him to.”

Mason said, “Paul, I want all this stuff verified. I’m going to put on a defense in this case that will make history, but first I have to know what really happened out there.”

“Can’t Josephine Kempton tell you?” Drake asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Confidentially, I don’t think she knows.”

Drake said disgustedly, “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Perry! Don’t put on one of those defenses where the dame says, ‘We were sitting there with the carving knife, and then, all of a sudden, everything went black to me, and when I regained my senses he was lying there on the bed, perfectly still, and I cried, “Speak to me, Benny! Speak to me!” ’ ”

Mason grinned. “It’s not like that at all, Paul, and yet it is. Get all the dope on Blevins — find his ex-wife. I’m going over to talk with Hardwick — see you later, Paul.”

Mason walked back to his office. Della Street said, “James Etna is on his way over. He seems terribly worked up.”

The telephone rang. Della Street picked up the receiver, said, “Hello,” and then to Mason, “That’s Mr. Etna now.”

“Tell him to come on in,” Mason said, “and tell Gertie to bring Mr. Hardwick in just as soon as Hardwick arrives at the office.”

Della Street hung up the telephone, went out and escorted Etna into the office.

Etna, showing considerable emotion, said, “Mr. Mason, can you tell me what in the world has got into the police?”

Mason shook his head. “They certainly seem to feel they’ve slipped over a fast one.”

Etna said, “It was almost as though they had some means of knowing what had been said...”

Mason grinned. “You’re not telling me anything,” he said. “Della Street and I took this office to pieces, trying to find a microphone. We thought perhaps they’d managed to listen in on our client’s story. How about the writ? Did you get it?”

“No. I found it wouldn’t do any good.”

“You mean she’s charged?”

“That’s right. First-degree murder. They’d already filed and that was a regular warrant of arrest.”

“Something happened to make them feel mighty confident all of a sudden,” Mason said.

“Of course, it’s an unusual story,” Etna ventured.

“You can say that all over again.”

“What do you make of it?” Etna asked.

“Her story?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not thinking yet.”

“What will happen when she tells that to a jury?”

“You mean if she tells it to a jury.”

“She’ll have to get on the stand sooner or later.”

Mason grinned. “Let’s make it later then, Etna.”

“You don’t think a jury will believe the story?”

“Do you?”

“Well,” Etna said, “hang it, Mason, I do and I don’t.”

Mason continued to smile.

“Of course, when you take into consideration the entire background out there, the thing sounds reasonable. Here was a millionaire who had been experimenting with hypnotism. He’d been trying to hypnotize gorillas, and apparently trying to instill them with homicidal impulses. It was only natural that sooner or later he should have some measure of success, and then it’s only logical to suppose that he might be the first victim.”

Mason said, “Go ahead, Jim. You’re trying to sell yourself on her story. You’re making an argument to yourself as though you were a jury.”

“Well, why not?”

Mason said, “When a lawyer has to argue with himself to try to talk himself into believing a client’s story, it’s a damn sight better to keep anyone else from ever hearing that story.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Etna said with a weak smile. “I hadn’t realized exactly what was happening in my own mind, but now that you mention it I guess I have been trying very hard, and not too successfully, to make myself believe a story that... well, hang it, I still don’t know just where I stand on it. The story sounds crazy until I consider all the background, and then it’s almost logical.”

Mason said, “We’ll know a lot more in a few days, Jim.”

Etna said, “I can’t help but think that I’ve let you in for something.”

Mason shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve been in worse spots than this.”

“That brings us back to a question of why the police acted as they did. Wasn’t it rather unusual?”

“Unusual!” Mason exclaimed. “It was unique.”

The phone rang. Della Street picked up the receiver, nodded to Mason and said, “It’s Hardwick.”

“We’ll postpone this discussion a while,” Mason said to Etna. “Let’s put up a bold front as far as Hardwick is concerned. We’ll be all smiles and optimism — all right, Della, show him in.”

Della Street held the door open and said, “Mr. Hardwick.”

Sidney Hardwick, apparently very much concerned about something, said, “Good morning, gentlemen, good morning. I hope I haven’t disrupted your entire day, Mr. Mason — and you too, Mr. Etna.”

“Not at all,” Mason said. “Sit down. What can we do for you?”

Hardwick sat down, adjusted the glasses on his nose, pulled the black ribbon back over his ear, adjusted his hearing aid, and said, “Let’s please understand each other at the outset. I know that you two people are in many ways in an adverse position to me. You are, I believe, representing Josephine Kempton?”

“I believe so,” Mason said. “That is, I think we will be representing her.”

“Both of you?” Hardwick asked.

James Etna shifted his position slightly, then said, “Yes, I guess so.”

“Now then,” Hardwick went on, “I represented Benjamin Addicks during his lifetime. I know more about him than any living man. I drew a will for him some months ago. That will was in accordance with Mr. Addicks’ wishes at that time.”

“You have reason to believe his wishes changed?”

Hardwick cleared his throat. “Both his wishes and his will.”

Mason said, “You have something to tell us and something you want to ask us. Why not put it on the line?”

Hardwick smiled. “I’m afraid that I’m not a very good poker player.”

“You’re not playing poker,” Mason told him. “You’re engaged in a consultation where we’re all of us putting certain cards on the table. Now suppose you start putting down as many cards as you want to disclose, and then we’ll see what we can do.”

“Very well. There is a situation here that is most unusual, a situation that is in some ways very much in favor of your client. I felt that you should know it, Mr. Mason, before you... well, perhaps before you decide you wouldn’t represent her.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “We’re listening.”

Hardwick said, “You called on Benjamin Addicks Tuesday night. Your call upset him. When you found the ring and the watch... well, it was a jolt to Addicks’ self-respect and to his self-assurance. He completely changed his mind about what he wanted to do in his will.

“That night, before he went to bed, somewhere around eleven-thirty, he called in Nathan Fallon and Mortimer Hershey for a conference. He said, ‘Gentlemen, I have been a fool. I have been self-righteous. I have been arbitrary in my judgments of my fellow men. I am sorry. I am going to try to make what atonement I can. I have here a will which I have drawn up entirely in my own handwriting. I am putting this will in an envelope. I am giving it to you. I want you gentlemen to seal the envelope and sign your names on the back of it, and place that envelope in a safe place. If anything should happen to me within the next few days I want you to see that Mr. Sidney Hardwick has this will.’ ”

“Within the next few days?” Mason asked. “Was he then anticipating something...?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It seems that what he had in mind was to make another appointment with me and have his will, this holographic will, reduced to a more conventional form and duly signed in the presence of witnesses. He was making this holographic will as something in the nature of a stopgap so that in case anything did happen to him he wouldn’t be bound by the old will that he had made.”

Mason nodded, said, “You went out there that night to have him make a new will?”

“That’s right. He was, however, too upset to see me. I couldn’t understand it at the time. In the light of subsequent developments I can put the whole picture together.

“You had jarred the man’s self-assurance, Mr. Mason. And I can assure you he was a hard man to jar, a very hard man.

“Now then,” Hardwick went on, “I probably have no right to do this, but I am going to read you a portion of the holographic will that Mr. Addicks made, a will that I am going to offer for probate. I think there are some things in here which are of the greatest importance to you gentlemen, and particularly to your client.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said, glancing significantly at Della Street so that she would be certain to include the quotation from the will in her shorthand notes.

Hardwick unfolded a paper and read:

Hardwick glanced up from the paper and said, “There you are, gentlemen. The will was dated Tuesday evening, and it is entirely in the handwriting of Benjamin Addicks, and is signed by him.”

Mason said, “That undoubtedly throws a new light on the situation. I notice that you said you were going to read a portion of the will.”

Hardwick smiled. “That’s right. There are several other bequests to former employees and a residuary clause leaving all the balance of the estate to his brother.”

“His brother’s last name is Addicks?” Mason asked.

“It is not.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“It will be disclosed later.”

“How did his former will dispose of his property?”

Hardwick merely smiled.

“I’ll put it this way,” Mason said, “was Mrs. Kempton mentioned in that will?”

“No. She definitely was not.”

“So that Addicks apparently tried to make atonement,” Mason said musingly.

“I felt you should know that,” Hardwick said. “It strengthens the position of your client, and it might be valuable information for you gentlemen to have in fixing your compensation. In other words, I felt you might be embarrassed if you fixed a definite fee for your services and then found your client had fifty thousand dollars you knew nothing about.”

“Thanks,” Mason said. “Now what do you want?”

Hardwick said, “I want to talk with your client, Josephine Kempton. I want to talk with her alone. I want to talk with her on a matter which is absolutely confidential.”

“I take it,” Mason said, “that you are indicating that you don’t wish us to be present?”

“I want to talk with her in absolute confidence.”

Mason glanced at James Etna.

“It’s all right by me,” Etna said. “I certainly feel very grateful and...”

“I don’t,” Mason said.

“What?” Hardwick exclaimed.

Mason grinned. “I don’t feel that grateful.”

“I certainly have given you information...”

“Sure,” Mason said, “you’ve given us information that helps in fixing fees. We’re grateful. I’d do anything for you I could, personally. But our client is in a different position. I’m not going to start writing any blank checks on my client’s account until I know what it is you’re after.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Mason, that it’s a matter which has absolutely nothing to do with the case in which you client is now involved. It is a matter that must remain highly confidential. In fact, Mrs. Kempton herself will not know what it is I am trying to clear up.”

Mason shook his head. “I want to know what you’re gunning for before I let any client of mine move onto the target range.”

“She’s not going to get hurt.”

“That,” Mason said, “is something on which she’s entitled to the benefit of legal advice, legal advice that is completely and solely to her best interests.”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Mason, that you’re putting too high a price on your offer.”

Mason smiled and said, “You put a high enough price on reading us the provision of the will.”

Hardwick said, “All right, suppose you would have learned the provisions anyway after the will had been filed for probate. Having them in advance may make several thousand dollars difference to you gentlemen personally.”

“We’re grateful,” Mason said, “But we advise our clients for their best interests, not ours.”

“I don’t think my request is unreasonable,” Hardwick said.

“What do you want to talk with Mrs. Kempton about?”

“I am not at liberty to tell you.”

“All right, then,” Mason said, “I’ll tell you, and we’ll see how close I come to it.”

“You’ll tell me?” Hardwick asked in surprise.

“That’s right,” Mason said. “You want to ask Josephine Kempton about the murder of Helen Cadmus.”

“The murder of Helen Cadmus?” Hardwick echoed.

“That’s right, the murder. You have reason to believe that someone tossed Helen Cadmus overboard from that yacht. You have some information that we don’t have. You also have some problem that bothers you in connection with the estate. When I know more about why you’re interested I’ll give you a better answer.”

Hardwick cleared his throat with a loud harrumph, took off his glasses, polished them vigorously, adjusted them back on his nose.

“How right am I?” Mason asked.

“You’re simply guessing,” Hardwick said.

“Sure I’m guessing, but I’m guessing pretty close to the truth, am I not?”

“Let us suppose for the sake of the argument that you are. Where does that leave us?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“Frankly, I am concerned over a disquieting possibility which may have some serious effect on the fortunes of your client.”

“You surely aren’t going to toy around with a theory that Josephine Kempton murdered Helen Cadmus?”

“I didn’t make any such accusation.”

“You didn’t put it in words,” Mason said, “but that’s the thought you’re trying to scare us with — the way someone pulls out a jumping jack and shakes it in front of a kid’s nose.”

“I merely want you to realize the necessity of having your client co-operate with me.”

Mason said, “We certainly don’t intend to stand by and have you saddle a murder on our client.”

“I’m not going to saddle a murder on her if she co-operates. I promise you gentlemen I will never breathe a word of anything I learn to the police. After all, gentlemen,” Hardwick went on, “there is no reason for us to assume a position of antagonism. There are two things I want, and...”

“Two things?” Mason interrupted.

“Exactly.”

“I thought you only wanted one.”

“You didn’t wait for me to finish. I want to have a private talk with your client, and I want those Helen Cadmus diaries.”

Mason shook his head.

“In return for which,” Hardwick went on, “you could count on my entire co-operation at every stage of the case.”

Mason said, “To hell with all this mealymouthed diplomacy. To get down to brass tacks, you’re here to blackmail us. You want the Cadmus diaries and you want to get Mrs. Kempton to pull a chestnut out of the fire for you. If she doesn’t do it, you’re going to try to pin the Cadmus murder on her.”

“Mr. Mason!”

“And,” Mason went on, “you’re trying to shake down the wrong people.”

“Mr. Mason, I am only telling you the two things you can do which will be of the greatest advantage to your client. After all, you know I can get what I want by going to the police — and then the whole thing would be in the public press.”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “The police can inquire about anything they damn please, and the press can publish anything they damn please, and we can advise our client not to answer any questions.”

Hardwick got to his feet. “I’ll now tell you gentlemen something else,” he said, “I have received a cablegram from Benjamin Addicks’ brother in Australia.”

“That’s nice.”

“I cabled the only address that I had as soon as I was advised of Benjamin’s death and a cablegram of condolence was received. Then, as soon as I knew about the will, I cabled him giving him a general terse summary of the terms.”

“And you’re received a reply from him,” Mason said, “suggesting that you are to contest the payment of any money to Josephine Kempton because she is guilty of the murder, and therefore under the law cannot take anything from the estate regardless of what provisions are in the will.”

“I haven’t as yet received any such cablegram. I have received a cablegram instructing me to file the will for probate, and to use my best judgment in representing his interests.”

“Well, you will receive such a cablegram,” Mason said, “and in the event you don’t receive it, as a lawyer who is interested in protecting the interests of his client, you’ll call his attention to that provision of the law and suggest that if Josephine Kempton should be convicted of murder, he’ll profit to the tune of fifty thousand dollars.”

“For certain considerations my client might be willing to forego raising the point.”

“You’ll tell him he has the right to take that fact into consideration?”

“What would you do if you were an attorney in my position?” Hardwick asked.

“I’d tell him, of course,” Mason said. “Now then, I’ll ask you one. What would you do if you were an attorney representing Josephine Kempton, and some attorney who manifestly wanted to see her convicted of the murder of Benjamin Addicks, wanted to question her in private to see if he couldn’t find some grounds for pinning another murder on her?”

Hardwick said, “If I were certain of my premise, which you aren’t, I’d decide what was for the client’s best interests and advise her accordingly.”

Mason said, “You can either put all your cards on the table or go to hell.”

“You’ve gotten tough with the wrong man,” Hardwick said, coldly. “I’m not going to hell — but your client is — now.”

He stalked out of the office.

“Good heavens,” Etna said, “you certainly told him off, Mr. Mason.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “He told us something that was to our advantage — and he’s suspecting something we don’t even know about yet.”

“Of course,” Etna said, “he has a lot of background information we don’t have, and that gives him a terrific advantage.”

“All right,” Mason said, “let him try and keep it. It’s a race now. We’re off to a bad start, but we move fast.”

He turned to Della Street. “Get me Paul Drake on the line, Della.”

When Della Street nodded, Mason took the telephone, said, “Paul, I’m in a rat race. I want some fast action. Helen Cadmus knew more about Benjamin Addicks than any other person except Addicks’ own lawyer.

“She knew something that’s worrying this lawyer. I want to know what it was. Benjamin Addicks apparently was a bachelor. He was along in middle age, but he was stocky, vigorous, virile. I want to find the woman... How the hell do I know what woman? The woman. And when you get the numbers on those phone calls that went through to the yacht, check the numbers and if any are the numbers of hotels or auto courts, rush operatives out there with photographs and see if Addicks was shacked up with some babe.”

Mason slammed up the phone.

James Etna said, “Aren’t you rather jumping at conclusions, Mason? Everyone says Addicks had no women in his life.”

Mason grinned. “Just because some people are liars, Jim, is no reason why we should be fools.”