The Case of the Lazy Lover

15

It was shortly before six o’clock when the telephone in Mason’s apartment rang a strident summons.

The lawyer, who had been dozing in the big easy chair, with the telephone on the table beside him, picked up the receiver, said hurriedly, “What have you found out?”

Paul Drake’s voice came over the line.

“Well, we got another break, Perry.”

“What?”

“We’ve traced a telephone to Donnybrook 6981, Bernice Archer’s number. It was called on Monday night at about seven o’clock. The call was placed from a service station about five miles from Springfield. My men went out and interviewed the man who runs the station, a fellow by the name of Leighton, and he remembers the incident perfectly.”

“Go on,” Mason said excitedly. “What happened?”

“A car drove up and stopped at the gas pumps. A woman who answers the description of Mrs. Allred said she wanted the tank filled right up to the brim. There was a man in the car who answers Fleetwood’s description. He seemed sunk in a sort of a lethargy. The way Leighton describes him, he was a lazy bump on a log who sat still and let the woman bustle around. He thought the guy was drunk at first and then came to the conclusion that he was just plain lazy.

“Then the woman went into the rest room, and the minute she got out of sight, Fleetwood came to life. He rushed out of the car, dashed into the service station, grabbed the public telephone, dropped a dime, yelled for long distance, and called this number.

“The service station man remembers it particularly, because he got such a kick out of it. He thought that Mrs. Allred was the guy’s wife, and that this fellow was trying to make a surreptitious date with his girl friend, or else explain why he had to break a date. The service station man didn’t say anything, but kept on with the chores of filling the tank, checking the oil and water, washing off the windshield, scrubbing the windshield wings and all of that. It had been raining a little earlier in the afternoon and had settled down to a drizzle along in the evening.

“The man stood there waiting for his call to come through and watching the door of the women’s rest room. Before the call was completed, the woman came out and the man dropped the receiver like it was a hot potato, ambled back to the car and settled down in the cushions with a look of utter vacancy on his face.

“The phone began to ring while the woman was paying for the gasoline. The attendant glanced at the man in the automobile, and the man all but imperceptibly shook his head. After the car had driven away the attendant went over, picked up the receiver and answered the phone. The operator said that they were ready with Donnybrook 6981, that Miss Archer was on the line, and the service station man explained that the party who had placed the call had been unable to wait for it. There was some argument, the long distance operator claiming that the entire time consumed in getting the call had been less than four minutes. But the attendant said it didn’t make any difference whether it had only been ten seconds, that the person who had placed the call was gone and what were they going to do about it.”

“That was Monday night?” Mason asked.

“Monday night, a little after seven o’clock.”

Mason said, “Okay, thanks! Don’t go to bed yet, Paul; you may have work to do.”

“Of course I’ll have work to do,” Drake said. “I’ll have work to do tonight too. Have a heart, Perry. Give a guy a rest.”

“You can rest in between cases,” Mason said. “Stick around your office, Paul. I think I’m going to get some action.”

Mason hung up the phone, then called police headquarters and asked for Lieutenant Tragg.

Tragg’s voice sounded harsh and weary from loss of sleep. He answered Mason’s call and said, “It isn’t everyone I’d talk to at this hour. When do you give me that break you promised?”

“Right away. I’m coming up now. Wait for me.”

“Hell, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Okay. You won’t have to wait over fifteen minutes longer. I’ll bust Fleetwood’s amnesia wide open for you.”

“Not that way,” Tragg said. “You give me the ammunition and I’ll do the shooting.”

“This won’t work that way,” Mason said. “But I promised I’d crack him and I will. Only I have to be the one that does it. If you try it, it’ll be a bust.”

“Well, come on up,” Tragg said. “I’ll be in the office waiting.”

Mason said, “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Mason slipped on his coat and made time to police headquarters.

Tragg’s office was impressive, the walls being decorated with display cases in which were knives, guns and blackjacks; below each of the weapons was appended a history of the case in which it had been used.

The furniture in the office told its own story of drama. The massive oak tables were charred along the edges where burning cigarettes had been placed while someone answered the phone, only to spring into immediate action at word of some homicide or attempted homicide, leaving the cigarette unnoticed to burn a deep groove into the table. Here and there were scratches and nicks where someone had thrown a captured gun or knife onto the table, or where some prisoner in desperation had beaten his handcuffed wrists against the wood.

“Well,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “what’s the score?”

Mason said, “Fleetwood is holding out evidence.”

“You said that over the telephone.”

“I’ll prove it!”

“Go ahead.”

“Get Fleetwood in here.”

“He’s going to be a witness for the prosecution.”

“On what?”

“Well,” Tragg said, “he...”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “The man’s memory is blank. He can’t remember anything. Therefore he can’t be a witness.”

“He can be a witness to some preliminary matters.”

“Yeah,” Mason said sarcastically.

“Look here, Mason, if I get Fleetwood in here, and you start giving him the third-degree — well, suppose he gets on the witness stand later and you start throwing things up at him that he said at the time you were questioning him here, it’s going to look like hell.”

“For whom?”

“For me.”

“Why?”

“Because I let you question a witness.”

Mason said, “If your witness can’t answer questions when you’re here to see that I don’t bullyrag him or browbeat him, he isn’t going to make much of a witness when you put him on the stand and I have a chance to pour the questions at him when nobody can stop me.”

Tragg thought that over, said, “Okay, Mason. I’ll get him in here, but I want one thing definitely understood.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m controlling the course of the examination. Any time I don’t like your questions, I’ll tell him not to answer them. Any time I think you’re getting off the reservation, I’ll have Fleetwood taken out, and I’ll send you about your business.”

Mason yawned, lit a cigarette, said, “What are we waiting for?”

Tragg picked up a phone on his desk and said, “Send that chap Fleetwood in here. I want to talk with him again.”

A moment later a uniformed officer opened the door and pushed Fleetwood into the room.

“Hello, Fleetwood,” Mason said.

Fleetwood looked at him. “You again!”

“Sit down,” Tragg said. “We want to ask you a few questions.”

“Who does?”

“Both of us.”

“I want to sleep,” Fleetwood said.

“So do all of us,” Tragg announced gloomily. “But it doesn’t look as though we’re going to have much chance for a while.”

Mason said to Fleetwood, “Bob, you got along all right with Bertrand Allred, didn’t you?”

“Why sure.”

“The thing that brought on your attack of amnesia was a blow on the head.”

“That’s right.”

“How did it happen?”

“How do I know how it happened? I was walking along the hedge and all of a sudden, blooey, I was out like a light. The next thing I remember, I was riding in an automobile and you were talking about taking me to police headquarters. I have a confused recollection of things happening in between, but I don’t know what they were. I haven’t the faintest idea. That part of my existence is just a blank to me.”

“You keep on saying it and you’ll get so glib when you recite that formula that you’ll sound like a needle stuck on a wax record.”

Fleetwood looked at Tragg and said, “How does he get in on this? Does he have any right to sit here and pull that stuff?”

Tragg started to say something to Mason, but Mason said to Fleetwood, “You couldn’t remember anything at all from the time that blow crashed down on your head until you recovered your memory here at the police station?”

“No!”

“Not a thing?”

“No, I tell you! How many times do I have to say that?”

“During that time you didn’t know who you were?”

“No. Of course not. I was suffering from amnesia. I know what people have told me about what I did and what happened.”

“Maybe you didn’t talk with the right people,” Mason said suavely. “Now there’s a man by the name of Leighton, who is running a service station about five miles out of Springfield. He says that when Mrs. Allred stopped the car and got some gasoline and went to the rest room, you darted over to the telephone and called Donnybrook 6981. In case you don’t remember, or are having another attack of amnesia, Bob, that number is the telephone of Bernice Archer.”

“Well, what’s wrong with calling her up? She’s my girl friend.”

“I know,” Mason said. “But how did you know she was your girl friend during the period that you were suffering from amnesia and didn’t know who you were?”

Fleetwood started to say something, then changed his mind.

“And,” Mason went on, “how did you know what her number was, if you couldn’t remember anything about your past existence? How did you remember what her name was, and how did it happen that you knew that you must put through that call during the minute or two you had while Mrs. Allred was in the rest room?”

Tragg’s chair squeaked as the Lieutenant took his feet from the place where he had propped them on the edge of the wastebasket and sat suddenly upright in his chair. “What’s this guy’s name, Mason?”

“Leighton.”

“Where is he?”

“Running a service station out there. Fleetwood knows all about the place. Bob will tell you about it in a minute.”

“I tell you I didn’t know who I was and...”

“But you remembered your girl friend and remembered her telephone number!”

Fleetwood was silent, sullen under Mason’s questioning.

“Now then,” Mason said, “are you going to tell Lieutenant Tragg or am I going to bring Leighton in?”

“I didn’t talk on any call,” Fleetwood said to Tragg.

Mason grinned and said, “I thought all that part of your life was blank to you, Bob. Remember, that was during the time you were suffering from amnesia. How do you know you didn’t talk on the call?”

“You go to hell!” Fleetwood shouted, jumping out of the chair. He swung his fist back for a haymaker.

Tragg’s long arm shot across the desk, grabbed Fleetwood’s shirt collar, slammed him back into the chair.

Mason had not even moved during the time that Fleetwood lunged at him and Tragg had pulled the prisoner back into the chair.

Now Mason calmly lit a cigarette with a steady hand, blew smoke at the ceiling, said, “There you are, Tragg. There’s your murderer.”

“What do you mean?” Fleetwood shouted. “You can’t frame this on me. You’re trying to protect your client, Lola Allred.”

“Sure, I am,” Mason said. “I’m trying to protect her by uncovering the real murderer. Here he is, Lieutenant. Here’s a man who has consistently lied all the way through. He was the last man to see Bert Allred alive. Despite the fact that he tells you he got along all right with Bert Allred, he didn’t. They’d had a big battle just before Fleetwood was knocked out. It wasn’t any automobile that hit Fleetwood. He knows it and I know it! Now, then, you’ve caught him in a whole series of lies. First he says he didn’t know anything at all about who he was, and he was lying. Now he says he doesn’t remember anything about that.”

Fleetwood glanced appealingly at Lieutenant Tragg. What he saw in Tragg’s face was not reassuring.

“All right,” Fleetwood blurted suddenly. “I’ll tell you the truth, and the whole truth. Then you can see the spot I was in. Allred had a partner in some mining deals, a man named Jerome. Jerome was a pretty tough citizen. In working back over some of the books, I found where Allred had been gypping Jerome. Jerome wasn’t the sort of a man you could gyp without having to face a lot of disagreeable consequences.

“I made the mistake of letting Allred find out what I had discovered. First he tried to bribe me to silence. Then he tried to threaten me to silence. Then, all of a sudden, he became very nice and suave and started telling me it was all a mistake and that he’d explain it to me by producing some additional evidence, but that that could wait until tomorrow, that I could have dinner with them and that we’d forget about business for an evening.

“I pretended to fall for it like a ton of bricks, because I knew the man was desperate, and I was unarmed. All of a sudden I was afraid of what might happen. I just wanted to get out of there, so I told him I was going to change my clothes, and that I’d be back for dinner. I had managed to get George Jerome on the telephone earlier and told him who was talking, but Allred suddenly became suspicious and started back for the room where the phone was, and I had to hang up in a hurry and pretend I was rummaging around in the files. He finally came to the conclusion I hadn’t phoned, but he was suspicious, and very edgy.

“Well, as I said, I started to get out of there, saying that I was going home to change my clothes, and he was all cordiality, patting me on the back and calling me his boy. It was a nasty, dark, rainy night. We’d been working until pretty late. I guess it was about half past seven or so. The Allreds have dinner at eight-fifteen every night. I left the wing of the house where Allred has his offices and started to walk across the patio, walking along the edge of that hedge. And believe me, I kept looking behind me. I was plenty jittery.

“I’d got to the point where the driveway comes in and had reached the end of the hedge when all of a sudden it felt as though fireworks had started going off inside my brain. Of course, I may have been hit by an automobile driven by Patricia Allred, but my own hunch is that Allred smacked me on the head with the blackjack, and probably hit me a couple of times more for luck while I was down.

“I know now what happened. Patricia was coming home in a hurry. Her mother was with her. They saw Allred’s car parked so that the rear bumper was almost on the edge of the driveway and did the natural thing. They turned their car suddenly and a little too sharp. The fender on Pat’s car went through the edge of the hedge. That was all Allred wanted. He thought he had committed the perfect crime. The only thing was, he hadn’t taken note of the thickness of my skull.

“Later on he pretended to be very much concerned about Pat hitting me with the car. Patricia was half crazy with remorse. The minute I started regaining consciousness, I realized I was in a spot At the time, to tell you the truth, I didn’t know very much about Mrs. Allred. I didn’t know how much she knew or whether she was in on what had been happening. I just knew that I was sick and hardly able to crawl and in the hands of people who wanted to kill me.

“So I got a bright idea. I pretended that I’d just regained consciousness. I had to. Allred was getting ready to load me in a car and take me to a hospital. I knew what that meant. So I opened my eyes. Then I put on the amnesia act.

“I think, at that, I fooled Allred. He wasn’t entirely fooled but it would have been a beautiful way out for him. If I only had had real amnesia and couldn’t remember who I was or anything about my associates, I wouldn’t be in a position to tell Jerome anything. I wouldn’t even remember what I had discovered about Allred’s double crossing. And Allred would have a chance to get a deal with Jerome all closed up and be sitting pretty.

“Allred would have killed me if he’d had to, but he didn’t want to unless he did have to. He told his wife that the thing to do was to take me some place where I could be quiet. She was to pretend she was my older sister and all that line of hooey.”

Fleetwood turned to Mason suddenly and said, “Give me a cigarette.”

Mason handed him a cigarette. Fleetwood lit it with a hand that was trembling so he had to steady the match with the other hand in order to get it to the end of the cigarette.

“Go ahead,” Tragg said.

Fleetwood said, “Allred was smart. He sent me out with his wife that way, thinking that if I had genuine amnesia, he’d have time to do something about it. But just in case I was putting on an act he started spreading the word around that I’d eloped with her.

“You can see the beautiful position in which that put him. He could catch up with us, kill us both and claim it was the unwritten law.

“Well, Allred was pretending to be my brother-in-law, and I honestly thought that, if I kept up the amnesia act until he’d concluded a deal with Jerome, that would be all there’d be to it. But I hated Allred’s two-timing, and I decided I’d get word to Jerome, if I had a chance, and tell Jerome to get a gun and come out and join us, have a showdown with Allred and take me away with him.

“Well, I never had a chance to get to a phone without getting caught; but I felt I had at least four or five days more. We left Springfield and drove a hundred miles or so north. Then Mrs. Allred got a chance to phone her husband. He evidently told her to come back and go to that Snug-Rest Auto Court.

“Well, we did it. We got to the Snug-Rest and waited there. We had a few drinks. Then Allred showed up. He told us to get our luggage together, because we had to move. Then when we were packed and had the luggage in the car, he suddenly told Lola to climb in the luggage compartment.

“I knew what was up right then. I guess he knew I was wise. He shoved a gun in my ribs, and when his wife tried to grab his arm, he socked her one right in the face. It gave her a bloody nose.

“Then at the point of the gun, he made her get in the luggage compartment. Then he slammed down the lid on the turtleback and told me to get in the car and start driving. I knew that he had me over a barrel. I drove the car. But, believe me, I was intending to drive it off the road and take a chance on a smashup. But Allred was wise. He wouldn’t let me get up any speed. He said, ‘Put it in low gear and keep it in low gear.’ ”

“What did you do?” Tragg asked.

“Well, you know how it is when you’re driving a car in low gear. You have lots of control over the car and it’s surprising what you can do to a passenger who isn’t looking for surprises. We rounded a curve and I stepped on the throttle and the car shot ahead with all the power of the motor in low gear. Allred was thrown back against the cushions. He tried to brace himself, to push himself forward and push the gun forward so it would still be pointing at me; and then I slammed on the brakes.

“Stopping the car that way, right at the time Allred was pushing himself forward, slammed his body forward. His head hit against the windshield. I gave him an elbow on the face and the minute his head hit the windshield, I grabbed the gun and slammed the barrel down on his head hard.

“Allred went out like a light. He slumped down in the corner of the car over against the door on the right-hand side.

“I started to put him out of the car right then. But if I did that I was afraid he’d regain consciousness and tell some story to officers that would get me pinched for stealing the car. I just wanted to get away from Allred and wanted to get out of the whole mess. I decided to leave Allred in the car and get out and walk. However, I didn’t want to do that until I was near a town or some place — and that’s where I remembered this man Overbrook.”

“What about Overbrook?” Tragg asked.

“I hadn’t met him, but there had been some correspondence with him that I’d seen in the office. He and Allred had been in a mining deal and, I guess, Allred had trimmed him. But that’s neither here nor there. I knew from the correspondence I’d seen that Overbrook had an isolated little ranch up in the mountains and that the road turned off within a few miles of where we had stopped. I got the idea of carrying on my pretense of amnesia. I knew that if it came to a showdown and I had to appeal for help, Overbrook would stand with me against Allred.

“Well, gentlemen, that was all there was to it. I came to the turn-off within a mile, took the dirt road, drove up to within a quarter of a mile of Overbrook’s place, and swung off the road.”

“What about Mrs. Allred?”

Fleetwood grinned and said, “Believe you me, Mrs. Allred had had all she wanted. She’d managed to work the catch on the inside of the lid of the luggage compartment, probably by using a jack handle. Anyway, she’d managed to get the lid unlatched. The minute I stopped the car, she raised the lid of the luggage compartment, jumped to the ground, and ran like a deer.”

“What happened?”

“I called to her and said, ‘It’s all right, Lola.’ ”

“What did she do?”

“She kept right on going.”

“Then what?” Mason asked. “Was Allred dead?”

“No, but he was still unconscious. He was breathing, a deep, heavy breathing. You could hear it all over the car as soon as the motor was stopped.”

“You had Allred’s gun?”

“Yes.”

“Why were you so afraid of Allred? If you had the gun, why didn’t you simply leave the car on the pavement, get out and start walking and...”

“And where would I have walked?” Fleetwood asked. “It was a cold, misty night with a nasty drizzle. Everything was wet, and up in the mountains it was cold. I wanted a place to sleep and I didn’t intend to be wandering around on the highway. And I didn’t want to dump Allred out in the rain. I wanted to leave him the car so he could recover consciousness and drive himself home. I just wanted to get clean away from him, but I thought it would be swell under the circumstances if I could keep on with that amnesia gag. I had a girl friend, this Bernice Archer, and — well, I thought amnesia would be a pretty slick thing all the way along the line.”

“Hadn’t you been making a play for Patricia Faxon?” Mason asked.

“It depends on what you mean by a play. She is a pretty swell dish. I looked her over pretty carefully, and tried to find out if she wanted to play.”

“Did she?”

“No.”

“Didn’t it go farther than that?”

Fleetwood said, “I’m no tin angel. I probably would have thrown Bernice Archer overboard and married Patricia if Patricia had given me the green light. I thought for a while she was going to do that, but she didn’t. Patricia has dough of her own, and her mother is lousy with the stuff. The man who marries Pat Faxon doesn’t need to worry about work, and if he knows a little something about mining investments, he can cut himself quite a piece of cake. However, that’s neither here nor there. I’m giving it to you gentlemen straight. Bernice Archer was my girl. She still is. She’s a sweet kid.”

“You’ve seen her since you’ve been here?” Mason asked.

“Of course, I’ve seen her,” Fleetwood said. “She came to me first thing when she knew I was here. She was with me for nearly an hour. She’s a sweet kid.”

“And did you tell her this story?” Mason asked.

“No,” Fleetwood said. “I kept on with the amnesia gag. I thought it was the best way out of a lot of things.”

“Did you fool her?”

“I don’t know. You never can be too certain about Bernice that way. She pretended to be fooled.”

“You didn’t tell her anything at all about what had happened up there?”

“Certainly not. I told her I couldn’t remember a thing that had happened from the time I was struck on the head there at Allred’s house until I recovered consciousness just as I was being taken to the police station.”

“All right,” Tragg said impatiently, “never mind about your love affairs. Tell me the details of what happened. Mrs. Allred jumped out of the baggage compartment. Was the lid of the baggage compartment still up?”

“No. It slammed down when she jumped out. She didn’t push it up far enough for it to remain in an upright position.”

“And that blood in the baggage compartment?”

“The blood must have come from her bloody nose,” Fleetwood said. “That’s the only way I can account for it.”

“So what did you do?”

“I’d got out of the car. I’d left Allred in it. Allred was still unconscious, but he was beginning to stir around a little bit and show signs of regaining consciousness.

“I knew I was within a short distance of Overbrook’s house. I got out and listened. I could hear a dog barking and it sounded pretty close. I walked around the car and when I got in front of the car, I took the gun by the barrel and threw it just as far as I could throw it out into the darkness. I made a pretty good job of it. It seemed quite a while before I heard it hit the ground. Then I started walking toward the sound of the barking dog. I guess it was about three or four hundred yards before I came to the house. I knocked on the door. After a while Overbrook got up and wanted to know what I wanted. I told him that I guessed I’d been in an automobile accident or something because I found myself walking along the road with no idea of where I was or how I’d got there.

“Overbrook was a little suspicious. He looked me over pretty carefully. Finally he said he just had a bachelor’s place there, that there was a spare room that had a cot in it, that it was just a cot and there were blankets on it but there were no sheets. He said that if I wanted to stay there that night, I could. I told him that would be fine, that I thought I’d have my memory back in the morning. I went into the bedroom and waited until he’d gone back to bed again. I had an idea of slipping out and listening to see when Allred regained consciousness and drove the car away. But I reckoned without the dog. Evidently Overbrook had told the dog to watch me, because when I tried to open the door a crack, the dog was standing right in front of it with his lips curled back, and he gave a low growl.

“I went back and sat on the edge of the cot and I must have been there for about half an hour before I could hear the sound of a motor starting, and then the car drove away.”

“What time did Allred get out to the Snug-Rest?” Mason asked.

“You’ve got me,” Fleetwood said. “Allred had previously taken, not only my watch, but everything I owned except my money. When I pretended that I was suffering from amnesia, Allred had been smart enough to see that I didn’t have anything that would prove my identity in case I appealed to some stranger. I didn’t have a watch. He’d even taken my handkerchief because it had a laundry mark on it, cleaned me out slick as a whistle.”

“But he didn’t take your money?”

“Not only did he not take my money, but I think he must have put at least a couple of hundred dollars more in the roll of bills I was carrying in my trouser pocket. He wanted me to have lots of money and nothing else.”

Mason looked at Tragg.

Tragg shrugged his shoulders.

“How about Mrs. Allred’s suitcase?” Mason asked.

“What about it?”

“When she packed up at her husband’s request, she put this suitcase in the car?”

“Yes.”

“And,” the lawyer said sarcastically, “when she jumped out of that luggage compartment she was lugging this suitcase?”

“No, she wasn’t, Mr. Mason. She was carrying a jack handle, or some metal rod; that’s all. I could see that jack handle in her hand. The light from the tail light showed me that.”

The lawyer smiled triumphantly. “When the car was found, her suitcase wasn’t in it.”

Fleetwood’s face showed dismay. “The hell it wasn’t! Of course, I couldn’t see her too clearly.”

Mason said scornfully, “It’s a hell of a story. She’s in danger of her life, yet she comes back for her suitcase.”

“Wait a minute,” Fleetwood said. “I’ll tell you what must have happened. Mrs. Allred was trying to hitchhike back to town. Allred recovered consciousness, knew I’d given him the slip. He started to drive back to town. He met his wife on the road. She may even have tried to thumb a ride, not knowing who was back of the headlights. When he stopped the car and tried to force her to get in, she hit him with the jack handle. It was then she got her suitcase out of the car and drove it over the grade. He must have overtaken her right about at the place where the car went over the grade.”

“Bosh!” Mason said.

“Believe me,” Fleetwood said fervently, “Allred got what was coming to him, and if Mrs. Allred ran that car over a bluff, she certainly was acting in self-defense. I’ll bet if you get her to tell the truth, you’ll find that her husband picked her up, that he tried to manhandle her and she cracked him over the head with a jack handle. She...”

The phone on Tragg’s desk rang.

Tragg hesitated a moment, then picked up the receiver, said, “Yes... who? Oh, yes, hello, sheriff... that’s right. I’ve just got a new angle on it... okay, go ahead...”

Tragg held the phone to his ear for some twenty seconds, listening attentively. He frowned thoughtfully at Fleetwood while he was listening. Then he said into the mouthpiece, “I wish you’d take a look at them yourself, sheriff, and I want to go along. It may be important... I can start in ten minutes... I think we’ve got something there. I think this business is all beginning to fit into the component parts of a perfect picture... Okay, I’ll be over. I want to ask a few questions and then I’ll get in touch with you. You be all ready to go, will you... Okay, good-by.”

Tragg hung up the phone, regarded Fleetwood thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“Where did you stop this car?” he asked.

“I told you, about a quarter of a mile from Overbrook’s house.”

“I know, but what sort of a place was it?”

“Well,” Fleetwood said, “it was not too good a place. It looked all right from all I could see driving along with the headlights. It was a nice level place off the road. But when I got into it I found the going pretty soft. It wasn’t so bad at first, but up where I left the car, it was fairly soft.”

Tragg said, “Now look, Fleetwood, you’ve played tag with us long enough. This is the second or third time you’ve changed your story. Now, if you try to cut any corners on me, I’m going to throw the book at you.”

“I’m clean now,” Fleetwood said. “This is it, Lieutenant.”

“I hope it is. Now you say Mrs. Allred jumped out of the car and ran?”

“That’s right.”

“Did she come back?”

“Come back!” Fleetwood said, and laughed. “You couldn’t have dragged her back to that car with a block and tackle.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, of course. She was afraid of her husband, and she had reason to be.”

“Did she know her husband was unconscious when she was running away?”

“I called to her,” Fleetwood said, “but she kept on running.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t know. I told her to come on back. And then I yelled and said, ‘I’ve got his gun and he’s lying unconscious here in the car.’ ”

“What did she do?”

“I think she kept on running. But by that time, she’d gone far enough so I couldn’t see. Remember, she was running from the rear of the car, away from the illumination of the headlights.”

“Where were you?”

“I’d just started to walk around the car. I was standing right close to the headlights.”

“Then she could see you in the illumination of the headlights?”

Fleetwood thought a minute, then said, “Yes. Certainly, of course she could. I was standing right in front of the headlights. From where she was standing, she could see me clearly.”

“So you don’t know that she kept on running after you called to her?”

“No, to tell you the truth, I don’t. The night was dark. There was a cold drizzle falling and you couldn’t much more than see your hand in front of your face. I had quite a time stumbling along getting to Overbrook’s house. I couldn’t see a thing. All I could do was walk toward the sound of the barking dog.”

Tragg nodded. “I have a hunch you’re doing all right for yourself, Fleetwood. But you’re going to have to remain in custody for two or three hours.”

“It suits me,” Fleetwood said. “I’m clean now. And believe me, Lieutenant, it’s a load off my mind.”

“You’re sure you threw that gun away?”

“You’re damn right I threw it away. You can check on my story if you want, Lieutenant. You can find the place where I left the car, and you certainly should be able to find the gun. I threw it ahead of the car and to the left, and it must have gone about — well, a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet. That ground was soft and I must have left tracks there.”

“The tracks have been discovered,” Tragg said drily. “I’m going up to take a look at them. They tend to corroborate your story a hundred percent. Now think carefully. You shut off the ignition on the car when you stopped it?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you switch out the headlights?”

“No, I left the headlights on.”

“So the position of the car could be seen quite clearly?”

“Yes.”

“And when you walked around the car, you walked in front of the car?”

“That’s right.”

“Where were you when you threw the gun away?”

“Standing right in front of the car.”

“So the headlights were on you, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So anyone who was standing some distance back of the car could watch and see plainly what you had done?”

“Yes.”

Tragg looked speculatively at Mason. “Your client tell you anything about this?”

Mason hesitated a moment, then shook his head.

“She should have,” Tragg said.

“What do you mean?” Mason asked.

Tragg said, “Now I can begin to put the whole thing together. Your client ran down to the roadway, Mason. She stopped there. She heard what Fleetwood said about her husband being in the car and being unconscious. She waited. She watched Fleetwood walk around the front of the car and stand in front of the headlights. She saw him throw the gun away. Then she saw him start toward Overbrook’s house. She waited. She had a jack handle in her hand. She knew her husband intended to kill her. She stood there in the drizzle, and in the darkness, waiting. When she saw Fleetwood didn’t intend to come back, she tiptoed back to the car to make sure what Fleetwood said was correct. She found out it was correct. Her husband was just regaining consciousness.

“Mrs. Allred opened the car door on the left-hand side. She got in and proceeded to club her husband to death with the jack handle. Then she backed the car around, drove it back to the highway, down to a place where there was a sheer drop, took her suitcase out, threw the jack handle away, got back in the car and headed it toward the cliff, jumped out, leaving her husband inside, stopped a passing motorist and hitchhiked to town. Now then, if she wants to co-operate, she can cop a plea of manslaughter.”

Mason said, “She didn’t do anything of the sort.”

Tragg smiled knowingly. “The tracks say she did, and tracks don’t lie.”

Mason said, “Fleetwood, if your story’s true, how did it happen that you didn’t...”

Tragg suddenly got to his feet. “I think that will do, Mason.”

“How’s that?” the lawyer asked.

Tragg was smiling. “You’ve done me quite a favor, Mason,” he said. “You’ve got this witness to quit stalling around. He’s told a story now that checks absolutely with the facts. And right now I don’t want you to do anything to spoil it. You’ll have an opportunity to cross-examine this witness when he gets on the witness stand. We can dispense with any further questions from you. You’re going home and get some sleep.”

Mason said, “There are just a couple of questions I want to ask, Tragg. A couple of points I want to clear up.”

Tragg smiled and shook his head.

Mason said, “Hang it, I developed this whole thing for you. I...”

Tragg turned to Fleetwood and said, “No matter what Mason says, Fleetwood, don’t say another word as long as he’s in the room. Do you understand?”

Fleetwood nodded.

Mason, recognizing defeat, pinched out the end of his cigarette, said to Tragg, “Well, it was nice while it lasted.”

Tragg grinned. “This is once,” he said, “that not only does Perry Mason’s client have her neck in the noose, but the great Perry Mason put it there.”

“That’s all right,” Mason said grimly. “What I wanted was the truth. I knew that Fleetwood was lying about that amnesia.”

“Who didn’t?” Tragg said. “I was waiting for him to crack at the proper moment. But when you showed up here, I thought that perhaps you could soften him up for me. I didn’t realize that you were going to play into my hands this far.”

“I didn’t either,” Mason said grimly, and stalked out of the room.