The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

Chapter number 18

In the automobile, driving back from the courthouse, Della Street said to Perry Mason, “Chief, you certainly gave that expert something to think about.”

“Of course,” Mason said, “we are still up against the problem of accounting for the endorsement on the cashier’s check. You’ll note, Della, that that is a particularly damning piece of evidence because it is apparent, first, that the signature of Benjamin Addicks is a forgery; second, that Josephine Kempton is apparently the only person on earth who could profit by that forgery.”

“Why do you say apparently?” Della Street asked. “She is the only person who could profit by the forgery.”

Mason shook his head. “There is one other person who could profit by it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand — and how about her fingerprint outlined in blood on the paper?”

Mason said, “If she’s lying she could very well have blood on her hands from killing Addicks. If she’s telling the truth someone could have pressed her finger against the check while she was unconscious.”

“But the blood?”

“A drop could have been put on her finger or the blood could have come from the gorilla with the cut foot, the one that was friendly to her.”

“Is there any way of proving what did happen?”

Mason said, “We’re going to do something about investigating that phase of the case, Della. I’m going to stop at this service station. You call up Stonehenge and see if the brother is there. I understand he arrived by airplane from Australia and is taking charge of the business matters which Benjamin left unfinished.”

“And if he answers?” she asked.

“Tell him I’d like to see him on a matter of some importance,” Mason said.

“But, Chief, shouldn’t you take any matter up with him through his attorney? Isn’t he...?”

“The attorneys aren’t representing him,” Mason said. “The attorneys are representing the bank which is the executor of the will. I don’t have any matter which is adverse to the estate to discuss with him. I want to discuss something that has to do with an entirely different matter. I want his help in finding certain clues.”

“Aren’t the police going to take a dim view of that?”

“Probably.”

Mason swung the car into a service station and said to the attendant, “You might fill up the tank while we’re putting a call through.”

Della Street entered the phone booth in the service station, put through the call, and a moment later came running out to the car. “He says he’ll see you any time, Chief; that he’d like very much to talk with you. It seems his name is Herman Barnwell. When shall I say it will be convenient?”

“Right now,” Mason said. “Tell him we’re on our way out there.”

Della Street returned to the phone booth, and emerged after a moment or two, saying, “He certainly seems anxious to meet you, Chief. He said he’d read a lot about you in Australia.”

“That’s fine,” Mason told her. “We’ll have a talk with him and then we may learn a little more.”

The attendant had finished filling the tank and was putting a final polishing touch on the windshield.

Mason paid for the gas, swung the car out from the service station and started threading his way in and out of the congested late afternoon traffic.

Della Street, long accustomed to Mason’s driving, settled back in the seat, turned the rear view mirror on the right side of the automobile so she could keep an eye out for patrol cars.

Mason took advantage of every opening he could find in the traffic. Then, as he got out onto the less congested boulevard, gave the car more speed.

“This is the time that they wait to pick up speeders,” Della Street warned.

“I know,” Mason said tersely, “but I’m on a hot trail. I don’t want it to cool off.”

“What’s the trail,” she asked, “or are you keeping secrets from me?”

Mason said, “When I went out to call on Benjamin Addicks the day after he had his encounter with the gorilla, he was pretty badly upset and nervous. One side of his face was concealed with a bandage.”

“That was the right side?”

“The right side. That’s where the injuries were inflicted — most of them.”

“Well?” she asked.

Mason said, “Aside from that bandage which covered the right side of his face and a small portion of the left side, he looked quite presentable.”

“Well, why not?”

Della Street saw that Mason didn’t want to answer any more questions, that he was giving his full attention to driving the car, and at the speed he was driving he needed all of his faculties.

“If I am successful in getting permission to start looking around the house,” Mason told her abruptly, “I want you to keep away from me.”

“To do what?”

“To keep away from me.”

“How far away?”

“Some distance away. Under no circumstances are you to try to cope with any unexpected situation which may arise.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“If we should find another gorilla,” Mason said, “I don’t want you to try to help me. No matter what the circumstances are, I want you to get out of there. Jump in the car, get to the nearest available telephone, and call the police.”

“But, Chief, I don’t understand. Do you think there’s a gorilla hidden in the house? There can’t be.”

Mason said, “Hypnotism is something we know comparatively little about. Suppose you were able to hypnotize a gorilla. Then comes the problem of how to reach his mind. He’d do unpredictable things.”

“Chief, you’re spoofing me, trying to keep from frightening me. You don’t, you can’t believe all that stuff Mrs. Kempton said about a hypnotized gorilla killing Benjamin Addicks.”

Mason grinned.

“You don’t, do you?”

Mason said, “Della, I think there’s a key clue which has been overlooked. I think that if you are with me, and are in a position to escape, we may learn what that clue is. On the other hand, if you are too close to me, we may find that we’re both trapped. So please remain near a door and at the first sign of trouble start for the police.”

“Trouble with whom?”

“A hypnotized gorilla.”

“But what will happen to you?”

Mason grinned. “Courage is the best antidote for danger, Della, remember? I think I’m going to be all right.”

She frowned. “I don’t like this at all.”

Mason turned into Olive Street. “Well, here we are, Della. Some change.”

“I’ll say there’s some change,” Della Street said. “The new tenant certainly seems to be far more sociable than his dead brother.”

The iron gates were now standing wide open. The graveled driveway curved invitingly through the green of the grounds. There was no watchman.

Mason gave Della a last warning. “If Herman Barnwell should offer to show me through the house in order to help me look for clues, Della — and I’m almost certain he’s going to prove very co-operative — I want to be sure you aren’t with us. Stay near an exit and pretend that you are interested in paintings, interior decoration, anything except murders.”

“I’ve been cudgeling my brains trying to find out why you want me to do that, but I still don’t...”

“Here we are,” Mason said.

He parked the car in front of the house. The door opened and a chunky, powerfully built man came out to greet them. His teeth flashed in a quick smile. He spoke with a very noticeable Australian accent.

“Ah, Mr. Mason, I believe. I am so pleased to meet you. When you telephoned I could hardly believe my good fortune. I have read accounts of many of your cases. And this is Miss Della Street, your secretary?

“It is indeed an honor to have you come here. Of course, you will understand I only arrived a short time ago. I haven’t had an opportunity to go over the place well. It needs a thorough cleaning. I haven’t been able to engage any servants as yet. In fact, my preliminary conversations with employment agencies indicate that it’s going to be very difficult to do so.”

“What are you doing with the gorillas?” Mason asked.

Herman Barnwell made an inclusive sweep with his arm. “They’re gone. I sold the whole outfit, lock, stock and barrel, to a zoo. When that sale is reported in the press, I may have some success with servants — but do come in, and tell me what, if anything, I can do for you. It is indeed a pleasure to have you here.”

He held the door open and said, “Right across that entrance hallway and into the main living room, if you will. I’ll have to fix the drinks myself, I’m afraid — a little Scotch and soda? Or would you prefer a cocktail?”

“Scotch and soda will be fine,” Mason said, “but we’re in rather a hurry. I assume you’re quite busy and...”

“No, no, not at all, Mr. Mason. I have had a preliminary conference with Mr. Hardwick, the attorney for the executor, and I have been over some of the accounts with Mr. Hershey, trying to get some idea of my brother’s rather complicated business affairs. Of course, those are for the most part in the hands of the bank, but the bank wants to follow my wishes in the matter.

“It may interest you to know, Mr. Mason, that I have instructed the bank that under no circumstances are they to contest in any way the provisions in the will giving Mrs. Josephine Kempton a share of the estate.”

“Of course,” Mason pointed out, “she’s being tried for murder and if she...”

“She didn’t murder him,” Herman Barnwell said calmly. “I know she didn’t.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask how you know that?”

Herman Barnwell said, “I am satisfied, Mr. Mason, that Mrs. Kempton did not kill my brother. My brother was trying to hide from his past. There is no use for me to beat about the bush, Mr. Mason. You are far too wise to be trapped by superficial subterfuge. There was no measure of affection between my brother and me. I am not even going to try to pretend — perhaps to the public, yes; but to you, no.

“Benjamin was intensely self-centered. We spent some time in Australia. We had a mining partnership. There were legal difficulties. One of the persons who had conflicting interests in our claim was killed. He was murdered. I won’t say Benjamin murdered this man. There were circumstances which pointed to it.

“But the police bungled the case. They thought I had committed the murder. I was tried and convicted. However, after conviction new evidence was disclosed which resulted in my obtaining a pardon.

“Benjamin, however, had completely disappeared. Fortunately for him he had never been fingerprinted and so he was able to elude everyone.”

“And you didn’t know where he was?” Mason asked.

“I thought he was dead. Benjamin had been very cunning. He had a small yacht. He put out to sea in that yacht when a bad storm was coming up. Two days later the capsized yacht was found floating. There was no trace of Benjamin. Naturally it was assumed that he was dead.”

Mason frowned. “So he ran away and left you to face the murder charge?”

“Not exactly. The police misconstrued the evidence. My brother ran away.”

Mason said, “I have reason to believe your brother may have had a gorilla which wasn’t kept in the cages.”

“What?”

“That’s right — a gorilla only two or three people ever knew about.”

“But — good heavens, Mr. Mason, where on earth could such a gorilla have been kept?”

“That’s what I’d like to have you help me find out.”

Herman Barnwell’s eyes were pinpoints of concentration. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. Mason. The very idea seems preposterous.”

“I’m not certain that I follow myself,” Mason said, “but I wanted to look around a bit if I could. Naturally I’d want you to be with me. I doubt if the police ever did search the entire premises.”

“By all means,” Herman Barnwell said. “Just sit down, please, while I get the drinks — you know, Mr. Mason, I too have had an uneasy feeling that the police may have let their attention be diverted by the obvious. I have had the feeling that — however, I don’t want to say things I am not prepared to prove, and I don’t want to alarm your secretary. You want Scotch and soda? And you, Miss Street, I believe the same.”

“The same,” she said, “and if you don’t mind, I’ll look around here in the entrance hall. I’m very much interested in the Grecian urn where the articles were recovered.”

“Make yourself at home,” Herman Barnwell invited cordially. “Just help yourself.”

He left the room, and a few moments later Mortimer Hershey entered. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mason. I just returned from court. I hardly expected to find you here.”

He came forward and shook hands, then turned to Della. “How do you do, Miss Street?”

Mason motioned with his hand. “Della wanted to take a look in the stone urn in the reception room.”

“Well, that’s perfectly natural,” Hershey said, laughing. “I can well understand that. You certainly did a remarkable job of deductive reasoning, Mr. Mason. And, incidentally, started a rather interesting chain of events.”

Mason said, “I’m hoping I can do something along those same lines this afternoon. I was telling Mr. Barnwell I wanted to ascertain if a gorilla is here which wasn’t kept confined in the cages.”

Hershey laughed. “I think that’s entirely out of the question, Mr. Mason. All of the animals here, with the sole exception of that one monkey...”

Della Street’s high-pitched scream of fear knifed through the room.

“Chief! Behind you!”

Mason whirled.

Della Street came running into the room.

“What was it?” Mason asked.

“Behind you,” she said, “I just had a glimpse of him through the door — a terrible, grinning gorilla...”

The roar of a shot sounded through the house. It was followed by a second and a third shot, and then silence.

Somewhere a chair overturned.

Della Street ran toward Mason.

“Get back!” Mason shouted. “Get back! Do as I told you! Follow instructions.”

For a moment Della Street looked at him in dazed incomprehension.

Suddenly a huge gorilla appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a gorilla with staring eyes, a fixed sardonic grin on his features.

“Good Lord!” Hershey exclaimed, then turned to run, paused to look back.

The grinning gorilla came shambling toward Mason. The knuckles of one huge, hairy hand rested on the floor. The other one held a glittering carving knife.

“Help! Help!” Hershey shouted, and started for the door, stumbling over a chair as he did so, falling flat. He grabbed Mason’s coattails in order to pull himself up, shouting, “Run! Help! Get me out of this!”

The huge body of the gorilla came directly for Perry Mason.

Hershey produced a revolver. Trying to scramble to his feet, he fired three shots from a kneeling position.

The gorilla, its eyes fastened on Perry Mason, moved deliberately forward.

Babbling incoherently in fear, Hershey got to his feet. As he did so, he stumbled against Mason, throwing the lawyer off balance.

The gorilla lashed out savagely with the knife.

Mason side-stepped, suddenly grabbed the hairy arm which held the knife, and twisted it sharply.

For a moment it seemed that sheer surprise froze the muscles of the gorilla in awkward immobility.

Mason made the most of that moment. His right fist crashed into the hairy midriff. His right knee came up in a savage knee lift.

The revolver roared again and a bullet whipped past Mason’s head, crashed into the wall.

The big gorilla collapsed slowly, doubling forward, then toppling to the floor with a crashing impact which made the room tremble.

Mason turned toward Hershey.

The business manager raised the revolver, pointed it directly at Mason, pulled the trigger.

The hammer clicked.

Mason lunged, stumbled over the paw of the gorilla.

Hershey backed toward the hallway, hurriedly thrusting fresh cartridges into the open cylinder of the revolver.

Della Street appeared in the doorway, a stone image in her hands.

Hershey took another backward step.

Della brought the stone image down, hard.

Hershey’s knees buckled. He dropped the gun, fell forward.

“Della,” Mason said sharply. “I told you to start for help at the first...”

“Did you think I’d leave you? Hurry, Chief. Get going. We’ve knocked him out and...”

Mason scooped up Hershey’s revolver, then, stepping up to the big gorilla, rolled him over, fumbled with the back for a moment, and suddenly jerked a long zipper.

“Chief!” Della Street screamed.

Mason lifted the grinning head to one side, pulled back the skin of the gorilla and disclosed the limp body of Herman Barnwell.

“Well,” Mason said, “perhaps now you’ll consent to leave me in charge here, and go get the police.”