The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

Chapter 6

Perry Mason, clad in pajamas, stood at the bedroom window, looking down on the patio which was drenched with moonlight. The big house, built in the form of a “U,” surrounded a flagged patio, the eastern end of which was enclosed by a thick, adobe wall some twelve feet high. Dr. Kelton, his huge bulk sagging one of the twin beds, rubbed his eyes and yawned. Mason surveyed the shrubbery which threw black shadows, the fountain which seemed to be splashing liquid gold into the warm night, the shaded alcoves, striped awnings, umbrellas and scattered garden tables. “Delightful place,” he said.

Dr. Kelton yawned again and said, “I wouldn’t have it as a gift. Too big, too massive. A mansion should be a mansion. A bungalow should be a bungalow. This business of building a hotel around an exaggerated patio makes the whole thing seem out of place.”

“I take it,” Mason remarked, turning to face Dr. Kelton, and grinning, “you didn’t have a particularly pleasant evening.”

“I did not, and I still don’t know why the devil you didn’t let me go home after I’d looked Kent over.”

“You forget that you’re going to get up at daylight to see the bridal party off.”

Kelton’s head shook in an emphatic negative. “Not me. I’m going to stay right here. I’ve practiced medicine long enough to value my sleep when I can get it. I don’t get up any morning to see any bridal party off on any airplane.”

“Don’t be such a damned pessimist,” Mason said. “Come take a look at this patio in the moonlight, Jim, it’s beautiful.”

Dr. Kelton stretched out in the bed to the tune of creaking springs. “I’ll take your word for it, Perry. Personally, I don’t like the place. I’ll feel a damn sight easier when I get out of here.”

“Worried about someone sticking a carving knife in your ribs?” Mason asked.

Dr. Kelton, sucking in another prodigious yawn, said, “For God’s sake, turn out the light and come to bed. Listening to you two lawyers wrangling I got so sleepy I…” There was a faint scratching sound on the panels of the door. Kelton sat bolt upright, said in a low voice, “Now what?”

Mason, finger on his lips, motioned for silence. After a moment, the same scratching sound was repeated. “Sounds,” Mason said, grinning, “as though someone with a carving knife were standing just outside your door, Jim.” He opened the door an inch or two, and showed surprise. “You!” he exclaimed.

“Well, let me in,” Edna Hammer said in a hoarse whisper.

Mason opened the door, and Edna Hammer, clad in a filmy negligee, slid surreptitiously into the room, closed the door behind her and twisted the key in the lock.

“I say,” Dr. Kelton protested, “just what is this?”

“I thought you went to Santa Barbara,” Mason remarked.

“Don’t be silly. I couldn’t go. Not with Uncle Pete walking in his sleep, and this the night of the full moon.”

“Why didn’t you say so, then?”

“Because I was in a spot. You and Uncle Pete wanted Helen Warrington to go so she could help your assistant up there. Naturally she wouldn’t go unless I went. I might have explained, but Bob Peasley showed up, and if he’d thought Helen had been planning to go to Santa Barbara alone with Jerry… Well, he’d have killed Jerry, that’s all.”

“But I still don’t see why you couldn’t have said frankly that you didn’t care to go,” Mason said.

“I didn’t want Uncle Pete to be suspicious. He’d have realized something was wrong.”

“So what did you do?”

“So I went out to the car, explained to Jerry and Helen exactly how things were. They were very nice about it, as soon as they understood.”

Dr. Kelton said, “Is that any reason why you two should put on night clothes, and hold conferences in my bedroom?”

She looked at him, laughed, and said, “Don’t be frightened. I won’t bite. I want Mr. Mason to come with me while I lock Uncle Pete’s door and the sideboard drawer.”

“Why can’t you do it alone?” Mason asked.

“Because if anything should happen, I’d want you as a witness.”

“I’d make a poor witness,” Mason laughed. “Dr. Kelton makes a swell witness. Get up, Jim, and help the girl lock up.

Kelton said in a low voice, “You go to the devil, Perry Mason, and let me sleep.”

“I haven’t a robe with me,” Mason said to Edna Hammer. “Do I go wandering around the house in slippers and pajamas?”

“Sure,” she told him. “Everyone’s in bed.”

“If it’s okay with you, it is with me,” he told her, “let’s go.”

She unlocked the door, looked cautiously up and down the corridor. Moving on silent feet, her progress accompanied by the rustle of silk, she led the way to her uncle’s bedroom door. Kneeling before the lock, she gently inserted a key, taking care to make no noise. Slowly, she turned the key until, with an almost inaudible click, the bolt shot home. She nodded to Mason, resumed her progress toward the stairs. Near the head of the stairs she whispered, “I oiled the lock so it works smoothly.”

“Doesn’t your uncle have a key?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, but he’d hardly get the keys out of his pocket and unlock the door if he were asleep. You know a sleepwalker wouldn’t do that.”

“How about the sideboard?”

“I have the only key for that drawer.”

She produced a small flashlight, lit the way to the sideboard and inserted the key in the top drawer.

“The carving set’s in there?” Mason asked.

She nodded, turned the key, clicking home the bolt.

“I’m so glad you came out here tonight,” she said. “You’re getting things fixed up. Uncle is better already. I feel certain he’ll get a good sleep tonight and won’t do any sleepwalking.”

“Well,” Mason said, “I’m going to keep my door locked.”

She clutched at his arm and said, “Don’t frighten me or I’ll shock your doctor friend to death by staying all night in your room.”

Mason laughed, followed her back up the stairs, paused at the door of his room, turned the knob, grinned and said, “Jim beat me to it. He locked the door after we left.”

“Perhaps,” she giggled, “he’s afraid that I’ll walk in my sleep.”

Mason tapped on the panels, and after a moment, the floor creaked with the sound of a ponderous body moving in slippered feet. Then the bolt shot back and the door opened. Edna Hammer pushed Perry Mason to one side, thrust in her head and said, “Boo!”

A half second later the bed springs on Kelton’s bed gave forth violent creaks. Perry Mason followed Edna Hammer into the room. She approached the bed. “Do you,” she asked Dr. Kelton, “walk in your sleep?”

“Not me,” Kelton said, managing a grin, “I stay put—but I snore to beat hell, in case you’re interested.”

“Oh, lovely,” she exclaimed. “Think of what a swell sleepwalker you’d make. You could walk in a fog and blow your own signals.” She turned with a laugh, slid her fingertips along the sleeve of Mason’s pajamas, said, “Thanks a lot. You’re a big help,” and sailed through the door with fluttering silks trailing behind her.

Jim Kelton heaved a sigh. “Lock that door, Perry, and for God’s sake, keep it locked. That woman’s got the prowls.”