The Case of the Negligent Nymph

Chapter 11

WHEN PERRY MASON ENTERED HIS OFFICE AT NINE-THIRTY Tuesday morning Della Street said, “Dorley Alder is out there.” “What’s new?”

“Drake has a report here-a lot of stuff-mostly an elaboration of what he told you last night.”

“That’s fine. Give me a resume and then I’ll see Dorley Alder.”

“Apparently the dog was raising Cain at the time of the murder,” Della said, “but when the police got there, the dog was lying quiet in the closet The maid said that the dog had been trained to lie there, and when he was shut up in the closet he knew that was where he was supposed to stay.

“Police thought the murderer might still be on the island, or hiding in the house somewhere, and they wanted to use the dog to track her down. They asked the maid if she could control the dog, and the maid said she didn’t think so and wasn’t anxious to try. She said the dog had been fairly friendly with her, but that no one except George Alder was permitted to feed or go near him, and while the dog would tolerate her while Alder was around, the dog was always shut up when Alder wasn’t there, and she didn’t want any part of the animal.”

“And the dog was quiet all this time?”

“You mean while the police were moving around?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the way I understand it from Drake’s report,” Della said.

“And how did they know he’d been raising Cain when the murder was committed?”

“Well,” Della said, “the police finally decided to open the door a crack, hold a rope with a noose in it get the dog out of there and see if perhaps the maid could make him track down the person who had committed the murder. In the event the dog wasn’t tractable, they’d have the rope around his neck.

“So, they opened the closet door, the dog lunged against the opening, came through like a shot, knocked one of the policemen over and tore out of the house, running nose to the ground.”

“And trailed the murderer?” Mason asked, interested.

“No,” said Della. “He tried to get away, ran to the closed gate in the bridge, and started scratching, trying to get out through the gate.”

Mason said, That would be a pretty good indication the murderer had gone that way, Della.”

“Apparently she couldn’t have. The servant ran out and closed the gate behind her, and was absolutely certain that no one crossed the bridge, nor could anyone have swum from the mainland across to the island. There’s a sheer brick wall on both sides.”

Mason frowned thoughtfully.

“Now, then, getting back to the way they know the dog was raising Cain when the murder was committed,” Della said. “When the police looked inside the closet, they found that the door was all scratched up and blood streaks on the door indicated the dog must have torn one of his claws loose trying to get out. He probably went into a frenzy when he realized his master was in danger.”

“The dog hadn’t clawed the door before?” Mason asked, interested.

“Never. The maid said that this closet had been fixed up as the dog’s own. There was a mattress in there, a pan of water, and all the dog trappings. And of course there was ventilation which came in from a high window that was heavily barred. The dog had learned to stay in there quietly when he was put in there. Now, then, that’s the story. You’d better see Mr. Alder.”

She started for the doorway to bring Dorley Alder into the office, then paused. “Did you see your client last night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Everything under control?”

“Everything except the client.”

“How come?”

“She was very grateful for all I was doing for her.”

“She should be grateful.”

“She had been in bed,” Mason said. “She put on a housecoat.”

“And then?” Della Street asked.

“Then,” Mason said, “she commented on how brown her leg was, pointing out to me what a nice sun tan she’d managed to get despite the fact that she was a working girl. It sounded like a stall.”

“Well, what of it?” Della Street asked. “Didn’t she have a right to be proud of her sun tan?”

“And when I left,” Mason went on, “she came over to hold the door open for me and her good night was slightly more affectionate than I had anticipated.”

Della Street laughed. “Perhaps the poor gal thinks she can use some influence to determine the amount of your fee.”

“It’s a legitimate deduction from all the circumstances,” Mason said.

“You mean a deduction from the facts, or a deduction from the fee?”

He said, “You’re too sharp for me this morning. Did you sleep?”

“After two aspirin and two hours of tossing.”

“Drake hasn’t found anything of Caimen Monterrey, has he?”

“Not yet. He did find out something though that he’s not supposed to know. He can’t tell us how he learned it-through some contacts of his.” “What?”

“The box 123J. That was George S. Alder.”

Mason paused to think that over, then nodded thoughtfully. “Of course. That was Alder’s logical move. He realized what he was up against as soon as he saw this letter in the bottle. He knew that he had to find Carmen. And perhaps through her find some way of discrediting some of Minerva Danby’s statements. Okay, Della, go bring Dorley Alder in and well see what he wants.”

Dorley Alder entered the office as Della Street held the door open. He wasted no time in preliminaries. “Mason, this is a damn bad business.”

“It is for a fact.”

Alder said, “My nephew was a bachelor and apparently I’m the next of kin upon whom the responsibilities fall in such a case.”

Mason nodded, keeping his face without expression.

Dorley Alder seated himself in the big client’s chair, said, “What will happen with this case against Dorothy Fenner now, Mr. Mason?”

“I presume it’ll be dismissed. There won’t be any complaining witness, no one to testify what, if any, articles were missing.”

Dorley said, “Has it ever occurred to you, Mr. Mason, that the authorities might try to implicate Dorothy Fenner in the murder?”

“It’s a possibility,” Mason said, his voice showing casual unconcern. “We’re dealing with a county sheriff, of course —and anything may happen. However, if they try to throw suspicion on the Fenner girl they’ll wind up making themselves ludicrous.”

Dorley Alder took a leather-backed notebook from his pocket, said, “I told you that you’d made an ally. I’ll now prove it. The gun with which my nephew was shot was his own gun.”

“The devil it wasl”

“That’s right, one of the new Smith and Wesson with a two inch barrel, a .38 special.”

“You’re certain?”

“Quite. Not only have I checked the invoice where he purchased the gun, but the weapon was evidently one he was carrying on his person at die time of his death. The sheriff, I believe, is trying at the moment to keep this information from the press.”

“It could very well have been suicide then?”

“I’m not prepared to state. There are, I believe, such matters as powder tattooing to be taken into consideration. A technical expert has given it as his opinion that the gun must have been too far away for the wound to have been self-inflicted.”

“But the gun had been fired?” Mason asked.

“Not only had one shell been discharged, but I understand a test made with paraffin for nitrate stains indicated that my nephew had held the gun when it was fired. He’s left-handed and there was a very definite reaction to the paraffin test, so-called, on his left hand … and the sheriff took Dorothy Fenner into custody five hours ago.”

Mason thought that over. “I was afraid he might do something like that. Did you find the bottle and the letter?”

“I did not, but the authorities made a rather thorough search of the desk and of the study before admitting me. They may have found it and decided to say nothing for the moment.”

“Look here, if George Alder had fired that gun and the bullet didn’t go into his body, where could it have gone?”

“Apparently nowhere. The only possible place for a bullet to have left that room without leaving a telltale hole was to go through the French doors.

“The medical evidence is that George dropped in his tracks. He fell forward on his face. He was facing the desk when he was shot and his back was to the French doors.”

“How was he dressed?”

“In slacks and a soft weave sport coat which he evidently wore quite a bit around the house. He had been painting on his yacht a few days before and there were some paint stains on the coat, and there was also a very small triangular rip on the left coat sleeve near the cuff. If he had been expecting a visitor, and apparently he had, he had not deemed it necessary to dress up. His visitor was one whom he would have greeted informally.”

“Just as one of the family?” Mason asked.

Dorley Alder smiled dryly. “I was about to use that same expression, Mr. Mason, until I realized that except for Corrine, who disappeared under such circumstances I I'll have no hopes for her, I am the only member of the family.”

“You have an alibi?” Mason asked, making his voice light with banter.

Dorley said gravely, “You are a shrewd lawyer, Mr. Mason. Your manner is facetious, but your question is barbed.”

“Well?” Mason asked.

“I ain a bachelor, and a retiring one, Mr. Mason. My chief relaxation is reading. I am sixty-three and I had only hoped to continue to draw my annuities from the corporate trust and pursue the even tenor of my ways.

“Both of the other beneficiaries were younger people. I certainly should have been permitted the assumption that the mortality tables would give me a chance to ease out of the picture with the two younger people surviving to inherit the trust funds.

“Now I find myself in a position of sole responsibility and sole beneficiary under the trust fund, and I don’t like it. I have no one to whom to leave the money and the responsibilities will probably decrease my life expectancy.

“My alibi is largely circumstantial, such as proof from the man who greased my car yesterday afternoon that the speedometer shows a trip to my nephew’s house was out of the question, and evidence that the speedometer had not been disconnected.

“And I am not fool enough, Mr. Mason, to think that the authorities are not skeptical and are failing to check my every moment and movement with great care.

“As you can judge, I am very, very busy this morning, Mr. Mason. I have a thousand and one things to handle. There is a vast, far-flung empire presided over by our corporation. I confess that I am not fully familiar with the details and I suddenly find myself with a terrific responsibility. Added to that is the laiowledge that there is certainly whispering behind my back. It is not an enviable position.”

Mason nodded.

“But I wanted to drop in to assure you that I meant what I said to you yesterday. You have made a friend and you have an ally, not only individually, but as the surviving member of Alder Associates, Incorporated.”

“Thank you.”

“Among my nephew’s things I found one bit of information which I think might be of value to you.”

“What is that?” Mason asked.

“I found that after learning the contents of this letter, my nephew tried frantically to get in touch with Carmen Monterrey.”

“Naturally he would,” Mason said.

“He put ads in the various papers and I have reason to believe that Carmen Monterrey got in touch with him over the telephone. I find on his memo pad a note containing the initials ‘C.M.,’ and an address. The address seems to be that of a Mexican restaurant catering to the tourist trade. I know no more about it than that, but I have brought you the address. I thought that perhaps you might be interested.”

Mason nodded.

“I feel,” Dorley went on, “that your client’s interests will necessitate an investigation of that letter. I think that perhaps you can make that to better advantage than I can, and I am hoping that any information you do secure, you will feel free to communicate to me. I think we will both be in a better and more satisfactory position when the mystery of my nephew’s death is cleared up. If it was a suicide, let us determine that point. If it was an accidental death due to the unexpected discharge of his gun, let us prove it. And if it was murder, let us apprehend and convict die murderer.

“And I will be willing to contribute time, effort and money to help you in whatever you do along those lines.”

“Thanks. I may call on you.”

“Please do so. If there is some fee . .

“Don’t misunderstand me on that point,” Mason interrupted. “Until this is cleared up I have only one client and that’s Dorothy Fenner.”

“Yes, yes. I can appreciate your position, Mason. A lawyer can only ride one horse—but after this is all over, I can assure you that I’ll then approach you—financially. In the meantime you owe your client everything, and me nothing.

“I deem it fair to tell you that for some strange reason the authorities are rather triumphant over evidence they have found implicating someone, and I think that someone is Dorothy Fenner.

“However, you now know my position. Please call on me for any cooperation.”

“Well,” Mason said, .”as you know, I’m representing Dorothy Fenner and I’m also representing this syndicate which has property adjoining yours, and which…”

“As far as the syndicate is concerned,” Dorley Alder interrupted, “you can definitely assure your clients that as soon as the necessary preliminary arrangements have been made so that I can take over the reins, they can count upon the full cooperation of the Alder Associates.”

“You mean you’ll join in a fair lease?” Mason asked.

“Exactly. There has been rather a ruthless policy of exploitation on the part of the corporation,” Dorley Alder explained. “A policy which I personally have deplored. I want you to feel that so far as lies within my power, and apparently a great deal now does he within my power, that policy is going to be reversed.”

Mason said, “That’ll be very welcome news. Could you perhaps find time to drop me a note about the oil lease which I could show to my clients in the syndicate? It would make them feel that I had accomplished something tangible.”

Dorley Alder smiled. “You are both tactful and shrewd, Mr. Mason. I’ll send you such a letter within the next few hours by special messenger. In the meantime, here’s a memo with the address which I assume is either an address at which Carmen Monterrey can be reached, or where some definite information about her can be discovered.

“I want to thank you for your professional courtesies and I can assure you that you will have no reason to regret them. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m really terribly busy this morning, but I did want you to understand the situation as soon as you came in.”

Alder shook hands and once more made a dignified exit through the door to the corridor without once looking back.

Mason glanced at Della Street, then looked down at the address on the memo pad.

“Well, Della,” he said, “it looks as though you and I were going to have dinner at a Mexican restaurant tonight.”

“An early dinner?” she asked.

“An early dinner,” Mason said, “and in the meantime well get hold of Paul Drake, give him this address, get him to dig up a description of Carmen Monterrey and put some of his men on the job watching the place.”

“Sounds like an interesting evening,” Della Street said.

“Darned if it doesn’t,” Mason grinned.

“And,” she pointed out, “if your client was grateful for what you had done up to last night, think of how she’s going to feel tonight.”

“I’m afraid to.”

“I think,” Della Street told him, “you’d better have your secretary take notes during your next interview with Dorothy Fenner. How long will they hold her?”

Mason shrugged his shoulders and said, “That depends on whether she follows my instructions and doesn’t talk”

“Suppose she doesn’t?”

“Then they may hold her for quite a while.”

“Suppose she does talk?”

“Then they’ll turn her inside out and let her loose, and promptly start trying to twist her statements so they can be used against her.”

“And what are we going to do?”

“We,” Mason said, smiling, “are about to prepare an application for writ of habeas corpus, Della, and in the event Dorothy Fenner doesn’t communicate with us by two o’clock this afternoon, we’ll drive down to call on Judge Lankershim, of Department One, who seems to be a reasonable chap, and get him to issue a writ of habeas corpus. And that will force the sheriffs office to either fish or cut bait”

“Perhaps they’ll decide to fish.”

“Then,” Mason said, grinning, “we’ll cut the bait and try our best to arrange it very temptingly on a very sharp hook.”