The Case of the Singing Skirt

CHAPTER NINE

Mason, pacing the floor of his office, made comments from time to time to an attentive Della Street.

Della, knowing that the lawyer was simply thinking out loud, used her knowledge of his character to facilitate the thought processes. At times she would nod her head, at times listen with rapt attention, and at times interpose some shrewd question.

Mason, pacing back and forth, said, "That probably explains why they didn't make any commotion about the gun."

"Who?" Della Street asked.

"George Anclitas," Mason said. "He was framing a crime on Ellen Robb, all right, but it wasn't anything simple like the crime of stealing a gun."

"Then he must have known a murder had been committed?"

"Yes."

"How would he have known that?"

"There's only one way," Mason said. "He must have killed her. He must have killed her with that gun and then planted that gun in Ellen Robb's suitcase."

"Then Mrs. Ellis was killed before the gun ever came into Ellen's possession?"

"That has to be it," Mason said, and resumed pacing the floor.

After a moment Della Street ventured an inquiry. "Where does that leave us?" she asked.

Mason stopped abruptly in his pacing, snapped his fingers and said, "Damn!"

Della Street raised her eyebrows.

"I hadn't thought of it from that angle," Mason said. "I've been too busy trying to unscramble what must have happened in connection with the murder so I could protect my client's interests."

"You're thinking of it from that angle now?" Della Street asked.

"I'm thinking of it from that angle now," Mason said, "and I don't like what I'm thinking."

"Why?"

"As long as the gun was simply an article of stolen property, we had every right in the world to restore it to its rightful owner and we could do that by returning it to his place of business, but if that gun becomes a valuable piece of evidence… "

Mason broke off and resumed pacing the floor, his eyes level-lidded with concentration.

"Isn't it our duty to report any evidence to the police?" Della Street asked.

Mason nodded, then said tersely, "It's also our duty to protect our client."

"But if the evidence came into her possession after the crime had been committed… "

"Suppose they don't believe that, Della?"

"Then, of course… " It was Della Street's turn to break off in the middle of a sentence and start thinking.

"Exactly," Mason said. "It puts us in the devil of a predicament."

"Can I take the sole responsibility?" Della Street asked. "After all, I was the one who took the gun back."

"You were acting under my orders," Mason said. "Don't be silly. I was taking the responsibility, and if there's any responsibility I take it all-all, you understand?"

"The facts," she said, "speak for themselves. I took the gun back."

Mason said, "I take the responsibility. Now, just remember that. Don't try to get yourself involved in this thing out of a sense of loyalty. Hang it! The trouble is I don't know… suppose she isn't telling the truth?"

"Who?"

"Our client," Mason said.

"She could be lying?" Della asked.

"Of course she could be lying," Mason said. "And she's just the type who would lie. She's a young woman who has sharpened her wits against the seamy side of life. She knows her way around and she's doubtless learned that everyone must look out for himself. That's the code of the society in which she's been living."

Della Street said, "Then she would have stolen the gun from The Big Barn, gone aboard the yacht, only instead of not finding anybody aboard, she had a session with Nadine Ellis and killed her. Then she came here and handed you the gun, telling you her story about having found it in her baggage."

"That's right," Mason said.

"And at that very time Mrs. Ellis must have been lying dead on the yacht."

"In that case," Mason asked, "how did the yacht get out there beyond Catalina Island?"

Della Street gave his question thoughtful consideration. "The yacht was safely moored in the harbor after you switched guns?"

Mason grinned. "It must have been," he said, "and that fact is going to give Hamilton Burger, the district attorney, and Lieutenant Arthur Tragg of Homicide, a terrific jolt. That fact, Della, puts our client in the clear and puts us in the clear."

"Just how will the D.A.'s office get jolted?" Della Street asked.

"Finding a gun in Ellen Robb's possession, thinking that it's the murder weapon, getting everything all built up, turning the fatal bullets over to the ballistic department and then finding that they didn't come from that gun at all."

"In that event, what gun did they come from?" Della Street asked.

Mason stroked the angle of his jaw with the tips of his fingers. "I wish I knew the answer to that," he said. "It doesn't seem possible that the bullets could have come from the gun that we returned to The Big Barn… but if they did… if they did, we're in one hell of a predicament, Della."

"What would we have to do?"

"I'm darned if I know," Mason said. "If I keep quiet I'm perhaps compounding a felony, perhaps making myself an accessory after the fact-to use a legal expression-in a murder case."

"And if you go to the police and tell them the story?"

"If I go to the police and tell them the story," Mason said, "they won't believe me. They'll think I am simply trying to work some elaborate scheme to trap the police and throw the prosecution off the track. And in any event I'd still be in a jam, this time for betraying the interests of a client."

"Are you honor bound to keep all the facts in connection with her case confidential?"

"Probably not," Mason said. "Strictly speaking, a privileged communication is rather limited. A lawyer is technically only entitled to protect the confidences of his client within a very limited field. The confidences are those that are given to the attorney in order to enable him to represent the interests of his client.

"That's the narrow, technical rule. Practically, by both usage and custom, the rule has been expanded. I know as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather have my hand cut off than betray the interests of a client. If I'm representing a client, I want the representation to be honest, loyal and efficient. I make it a point to believe everything my client tells me and to act accordingly in order to protect the best interests of that client."

"Yet you recognize there's a possibility the client may lie?"

"I recognize the possibility the client may lie," Mason said.

"Well," Della Street said, "as I see it, there's nothing to be done until the police get a report from the ballistics department on those bullets."

"That's right," Mason said. "After they find out that the bullets that killed Mrs. Ellis didn't come from that gun, then the question is, did they come from the gun we took from Ellen Robb? If they didn't, we're in the clear. If they did, then we're right slap-bang behind the eight ball."

"We can find out?" Della Street asked.

"We can find out," Mason said, "because fortunately I had Paul Drake get a ballistics expert to fire test bullets from the gun. We have those test bullets. Paul Drake can get photographs of the fatal bullets, and we can compare the striations. That's not the best way of making a comparison, but it will do under the circumstances. We can reach a pretty fair opinion. In other words, if the test bullets don't match the fatal bullets, we can tell. If they do, we can't be absolutely certain. But if we get enough lines of striation in the photograph, we'll know that there's a very good possibility the fatal bullets were fired from that gun."

"And then?" Della Street asked.

"Then we'll cross that bridge," Mason said. "We should be hearing from Paul any-"

Drake's code knock sounded on the door. Mason nodded to Della Street, who opened the door and let Paul Drake in.

Mason, standing in the middle of the office floor where he had paused mid-stride when Drake knocked on the door, nodded to the detective, said, "What's new, Paul?"

"I hate to bring bad news," Drake said, "but if the ballistics check shows that Nadine Ellis was killed by a bullet from the gun that the police took from Ellen Robb's motel room, she doesn't stand the faintest whisper of a chance."

"And if the bullets don't check?" Mason asked.

"They've probably got a case against her," Drake said, "but it won't be dead open-and-shut."

"I don't see what evidence they have," Mason said, frowning.

"Well, naturally they're not telling," Drake said. "From what I can pick up in the way of scuttle butt around Headquarters, they seem to feel they have an airtight case-and, of course, once the ballistics experts show Nadine Ellis was killed by a bullet from that gun the police took from Ellen's motel, they have a case that neither you nor any other lawyer can win. That ballistics evidence will make it a copper-riveted cinch."

"All right, Paul," Mason said. "I've got some confidential information for you. The gun won't check. Now, start working on the case from that angle and see what your investigation shows up."

"You mean the bullets weren't fired from that gun?"

"They weren't fired from that gun."

"How sure are you, Perry?"

"Positive."

"That's going to make a difference," Drake said. "But, look, Perry, you can't be positive. You never know when a client is lying to you and when she's telling the truth. Particularly a girl like Ellen Robb. She can be convincing as a liar. She's a past master at pulling the wool over your eyes."

Mason said, "Nobody's pulling the wool over my eyes, Paul. The bullets won't check."

"Well, that's something," Drake said. "There's one thing certain. If they don't check, that will hit the district attorney an awful wallop right between the eyes."

"He's going to be hit a wallop, then."

Drake was thoughtful. "There's only one way you could be certain, Perry."

"How's that, Paul?"

"That gun you gave me to take to Maurice Halstead, Perry."

"What about it?" the lawyer asked.

Drake was thoughtfully silent.

"Well?" Mason prompted.

"Look, Perry," the detective said, "if you pulled one of those gun-switching acts of yours, and if that gun I gave Halstead should prove to be the murder weapon… well, I'm bailing out, that's all. I can't go that far."

"No one's asked you to, Paul."

"I'd have to tell what I know."

"When?"

"As soon as I knew it made any difference in the case."

"We'll let it stand that way," Mason said.

"I'm not going to sleep tonight, Perry," Drake said.

"Take a pill."

"That won't help. Good Lord, Perry, do you know what you're doing?"

"It's not what I'm doing that worries me," Mason said. "It's what I have done."

"So what do I do now, Perry?"

"Wait until you're certain," Mason said.

"Maurice Halstead will also be doing some thinking as soon as he's seen the papers," Drake pointed out.

"Let him think, Paul," Mason said.

The phone rang.

Della Street picked up the telephone, said, "Yes," then to Paul, "It's for you, Paul."

"That'll be a report on what ballistics found out," Drake said. "I told my office to call me here if they got that report but not to bother me otherwise."

Drake picked up the telephone, said, "Hello… uh-huh… They're sure? No chance of a mistake well, that's interesting… Okay, I'll be back in the office in a few minutes. 'Bye now."

Drake hung up the telephone, cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Mason, and said, "Why were you so damned sure those bullets weren't going to match, Perry?"

The lawyer grinned. "Call me clairvoyant or psychic, Paul."

"Well," Drake said, "you'd better throw away your crystal ball and try tea leaves. The fatal bullets that killed Nadine Ellis were fired from the gun that Ellen Robb had in her possession when the police arrested her."