The Case of the Sulky Girl

Chapter 7

Perry Mason encountered Don Graves just after that individual had been released from police questioning.

Graves mopped his forehead and smiled at the attorney.

"Never had such an ordeal in my life," he said. "I certainly am glad that I wasn't here."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Mason.

"They might have tried to pin it on me," he said. "They tear you to pieces and doubt everything you say."

"I wonder," said Mason, "if you'd mind giving me an outline of just what you told them?"

Graves sighed wearily.

"I've told the facts so often now," he said, "that I'm hoarse."

Mason took the young man's arm and piloted him unsmilingly through the dining room to a solarium, where there were some chairs grouped around a wicker table.

"Smoke?" he asked, extending a package of cigarettes.

Graves nodded eagerly.

Perry Mason held a match to the cigarette. "Get started," he said.

"Well," said Graves, "there isn't very much that I can tell. That's the trouble with it. The police want me to tell too much. At first, when I saw the murder being committed, Judge Purley thought that I was crazy because he claimed I couldn't have seen all that I said I saw through the window, and now the police are jumping on me because I don't tell them more, and seem to think I'm holding something back."

"You saw the murder?" asked Mason.

"I guess so," said Graves wearily. "I've been hammered around so much now that I don't know what I saw."

Perry Mason made no comment.

"Well," said Graves, exhaling twin streams of smoke from his nostrils, "Mr. Crinston had an appointment for eleven o'clock, and was seven minutes late. Mr. Norton was very much exasperated over several things that had happened one of which was your visit, and then he had some trouble with his niece afterwards. But Mr. Crinston says that I'm not to mention that trouble with Fran Celane unless somebody specifically questions me about it.

"Well, Crinston was late for his appointment, and you know how that would affect Norton. He was in one of those cold rages. He showed it by being coldblooded, efficient, and exceedingly disagreeable.

"I don't know what Crinston talked about with him. They were having some violent difference of opinion. Frankly, I think Crinston was pretty much exasperated when he decided to leave. He had promised Judge Purley that he would leave not later than eleven thirty, and at just about eleven thirty Crinston came out of the inner office.

"Mr. Norton wanted him to stay. Crinston refused. He said he'd promised Judge Purley to leave at eleven thirty. Then Mr. Norton made some sarcastic remark that Crinston would keep him waiting seven minutes, and think nothing of it, but wouldn't think of detaining a municipal judge for as much as ten seconds. He was mad, all right—good and mad.

"Crinston had only been gone a minute or two when Mr. Norton came out and told me that he wanted me to rush out to Crinston's house and get some papers. They were some agreements that he and Crinston had been discussing, and Crinston had promised to send them to Norton. Norton suddenly decided that he didn't want to wait, but wanted them right away. He told me to wake up Devoe, that's the chauffeur, and get him to drive me out to Crinston's house and pick up the agreements.

"At that time, Crinston and Purley were just about to drive away. They had, I believe, started their car.

"Then Mr. Norton suddenly got the idea that if I should drive out with Mr. Crinston, I could save a little time. He intended to have Devoe, the chauffeur, come in and pick me up. But it was going to take Mr. Crinston a few minutes to get the documents, after I got there, and the chauffeur would take a little time dressing and getting the car out; so Norton thought he could save time by having me go in with Mr. Crinston. There wasn't any sense to it. Devoe could have driven me there just as well, but I mention it to show how excited Norton was. He was simply furious.

"So Mr. Norton raised up the window in his office and called down to Mr. Crinston to wait a minute. I'm not certain, but I think Mr. Crinston got out of the machine and walked back so that he stood under the window to hear what Mr. Norton said. I heard Norton ask if it would be all right for me to ride in with them, and I heard Crinston say that he'd go over and ask Judge Purley if there were any objections.

"I knew right away there wouldn't be any objections, so I started hotfooting down the stairs. The way Norton felt, I didn't want to waste a second.

"Crinston had asked Judge Purley, and was standing beneath the window, talking with Mr. Norton, when I got down. Mr. Crinston said to me: 'Hurry up, Graves, I've promised Judge Purley that he would leave here promptly at eleven thirty, and he's in a rush to get home. So I ran right across and jumped into the machine. I think that I got into the machine before Mr. Crinston did, or maybe we got in together, at any rate, Mr. Crinston got into the machine at just about the same time.

"Judge Purley had the engine running, and just as soon as the door slammed, he started the car. I was in the back seat, and Mr. Crinston was sitting up in front with Judge Purley.

"You know the way the road winds around up the side of the hill. Well, I don't know what prompted me to look back through the window at the house. Maybe it was just curiosity, maybe it was some sense of what was happening.

"Anyway, I was looking back through the rear window of the car, and just as it rounded the curve where I could see into the study, I saw people in the study, and a man swinging a club."

"How many people?" asked Perry Mason.

Don Graves did not answer for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and said slowly: "Only one that I was sure of. That is, I saw one person raise his arm and strike another person."

"That you were sure of?" said Mason.

"Yes sir," said Graves, "that I was sure of."

"There might have been another person present?" asked Perry Mason.

Don Graves said in a very low voice: "I don't think, if I were you, sir, that I'd go into that."

"Why not?" asked Perry Mason explosively.

"I'd rather not state," said Graves, squirming uncomfortably. "But you might find, if you pressed that line of inquiry too far, that it wasn't of any particular advantage, either to you or your client."

"I think I see," said Perry Mason softly.

Graves sighed his relief.

"You were, of course, some distance away?" asked Mason.

"Yes," said Graves, "I was some distance away."

Mason looked at the young man searchingly, but Don Graves kept his eyes averted.

"How clearly could you see?" Mason pressed.

Graves took a deep breath. "I could see quite clearly that somebody was standing over somebody else, and striking a blow," he blurted.

"And did you see that other person fall?"

"I don't think so. You know, it was quite a distance away, and I only had a flash as the car was swinging around the curve in the road."

"Could you say that there were only two people in the room?" asked Mason.

"No, of course not, because I couldn't see the entire room."

"Could you say that you only saw two people in the room?" Mason inquired.

"I did say that," said Graves, and added after a moment, "to the police."

Perry Mason's voice was low. "Let's not misunderstand each other, Graves. In the event that you saw anything which indicated that there was another person in the room, did you see anything that would identify that person?"

Graves spoke very softly and, with obvious reluctance. "Confidentially, Mr. Mason, one can't trust one's impressions in a momentary glimpse like that. It isn't as though you had a photograph of it. And yet there's something that's etched on my brain that I haven't mentioned—to the police. I might tell you, in strict confidence, that, if there was another person in that room, and if I saw such a person, that person was a woman."

Perry Mason stared steadily at Graves, then asked:

"Could you identify that woman?"

"I have not mentioned to anyone that I saw that woman," said Graves slowly, "and I would not care to make any identification."

"But," said Mason, "have you been absolutely positive and emphatic in saying that you did not see such a person?"

Graves met his eyes. "I have tried to tell the truth, Mr. Mason. So far, whenever the question has been asked me, I have answered in such a way that the inquiry has taken another turn. You understand that I am going to answer questions truthfully when I get on the witness stand, if I get on the witness stand. But you will also understand that every one of us is exceedingly loyal to your client."

"Meaning?" asked Mason.

"Meaning Miss Celane."

"Do I understand," said Mason very softly and almost ominously, "that such a loyalty would lead you to protect her against a murder charge?"

"No," said Graves frankly, "it would not. But it certainly would be sufficient to lead us to keep her name out of an investigation which could only be abortive at any rate."

"And what do you mean by that?" pressed the attorney.

"I mean by that, that inasmuch as Miss Celane was not in the house at the time, it would naturally have been impossible for her to have been in that room."

"Then you did not see a woman in the room?" Mason asked.

"I didn't say that either," said Graves. "I said that if there had been another person in the room that I had seen, that person would probably have been a woman."

"Why," asked the lawyer, "do you say that?"

"Well," said Graves, "there is in my mind a more or less confused impression of a woman's head and shoulders showing momentarily in one corner of the window. But of course I couldn't be sure of it, because my glance was riveted on the man with his arm upraised."

"One more question," said Mason. "Did the police take down, in shorthand, the answers which you gave to the questions they asked you, when they inquired about what you had seen?"

"Yes," said Graves.

"And you didn't mention anything about a woman at that time?"

"No."

Mason said slowly: "You understand, Graves, that there is something very peculiar about this. Both you and Crinston have intimated to me that my client might be in some danger. Yet, apparently, she was not anywhere near the house at the time."

"That's right," said Graves eagerly, "she wasn't here."

"Then how could she be in any danger?" asked Mason.

"She isn't," said Graves. "That's the point I'm trying to make. And I'm trying to protect her against any insinuations which might be made, because, you understand, there's a motive which might be attached to her."

"Very commendable," said Mason dryly. "I wouldn't want you to commit any perjury, Graves, but you will, of course, understand that if you tell your story a few times without mentioning the woman, and that story is recorded in shorthand, or reported in the press, and then you should subsequently be placed upon the stand and asked specifically if you saw a woman or had the impression that a woman was there, an answer which tended to change your previous story wouldn't do my client such a great amount of harm. On the other hand, it wouldn't do you such a great amount of good."

Graves said with dignity: "I am prepared to make some sacrifices in order to protect the good name of Miss Celane."

"And," went on Perry Mason, ominously, "when you did amplify your story to include a woman, as being present in that room, I'd rip you wide open."

"Sure," said Graves, readily.

"And," Mason told him grimly, "when I say wide open, I mean wide open."

At that moment, a door opened and a detective looked into the room, stared at Mason, then shifted his eyes to Graves, and beckoned.

"Graves," he said, "we want you back upstairs. There are one or two questions we want to ask you. When you gave your statement, you seemed to have evaded answering one of the questions. That is, the chief thinks that you did, now that your statement is being read over."

Graves looked at Mason with eyes that were suddenly apprehensive.

"You won't mind answering these questions?" asked the detective.

"Not at all," said Graves, and walked from the solarium.

When the door closed behind Graves and the detective, Perry Mason pulled a paper from his pocket, unfolded it and examined it with thoughtful appraisal. The paper was Frances Celane's promissory note for forty thousand dollars.