Della Street was waiting in the doorway of Mason’s private office as he came down the corridor. She beckoned to him to come in without going through the reception room of his office.
“Someone laying for me, Della?” he asked.
“Mrs. Tump and Byrl Gailord.”
Mason said, “Her appointment wasn’t until two o’clock.”
“I know it, but they’re all worked up about something. They say that they have to see you right away.”
Mason said, “I thought I’d pick you up for a bite of lunch.”
“I’ve tried to stall them off,” she said. “They won’t stall… They’re biting fingernails and whispering.”
“What’s the girl look like?”
“Not what you’d call beautiful, but she has a swell figure, and she can turn on plenty of personality. Her features aren’t much, but she could get by in a bathing-girl parade anywhere. Her hair is darkish, her eyes black. She goes in for vivid coloring in clothes, throws lots of hand motions in with her talk, and seems full of life.”
Mason said, “I’ll see them now and get it over with… We ran into something out there, Della.”
“What was it?”
“Albert Tidings,” he said, “nicely drilled with a revolver shot, probably a thirty-eight caliber, not suicide because there were no powder burns on the clothes or skin; and the officers can’t find the fatal gun. There was a thirty-two caliber revolver in the right hip pocket. It hadn’t been fired, and it wasn’t the murder gun. What’s more, the officers can’t find Tidings’ shoes. There’s lipstick on his mouth.”
“When was the body discovered?”
“When we got there.”
“You mean — you were the one who discovered it?”
“That’s right.”
“Think Paul Drake had a hunch what you’d find?” she asked.
“No, not Paul. He’d have had a fit. The police think we find too many corpses. Paul’s jittery about it.”
“Well, you do get around, Chief,” she said.
“I have to,” he told her, grinning. “I met Mrs. Tidings out there. She’d been visiting friends in Reno and walked in on us.”
“What sort?” Della Street asked.
“Class,” Mason said. “Took it like a little soldier. Stood up and told the officers frankly that she didn’t love him, that he’d been doing everything he could to make things difficult for her, that she wanted a divorce and he wouldn’t give her one. She was a little indefinite about his methods, but he evidently had something on her.”
“Doesn’t that make her look like a logical suspect, Chief?” Della Street asked.
“That’s what the officers seem to think. They’re going to check her alibi. Holcomb put through a long distance call to Reno while I was there. Apparently, there’s no question but what she was with friends just as she said… However, I got my usual complex.”
“What do you mean?”
Mason grinned. “Made a stab in the dark,” he said, “figuring that she might hold the other part of that ten-thousand-dollar bill.”
“Any results?”
“No. She couldn’t have been the one, anyway. She left town Monday afternoon. Her friends say she arrived in Reno before daylight. The Reno police are checking up, but it sounded pretty good over the telephone. Even Holcomb accepted it… Well, let’s get Mrs. Tump and the Gailord girl in here and see how they react to the news.”
“There won’t be any need for you to represent them if Tidings is dead, will there, Chief?”
“Probably not,” he said. “I can keep an eye on things; but there’s nothing much to be done. The court will appoint another trustee.”
“Mrs. Tump?” Della Street asked.
Mason said, “Probably not. It’s more apt to be some trust company. The accounts will take a lot of going over.”
“Want them in now?” Della Street asked.
“Uh huh,” Mason said, and crossed over to the washstand. He ran water into the bowl and was drying his hands on the towel when Della Street ushered in Mrs. Tump and an attractive, willowy girl whose eyes flashed about the room in a swift glance, and then registered approval as they appraised Perry Mason.
“This is Mr. Mason, Byrl,” Mrs. Tump said, and to Mason, “Byrl Gailord.”
Mason caught a glimpse of red lips parted to disclose flashing teeth, of intense black eyes, and then Byrl Gailord’s hand was in his as she smiled up in his face. “I’m afraid I’m a nuisance, Mr. Mason,” she said, “but when I told Mrs. Tump about what you’d said over the telephone — you know, about investigating a hot tip — well, we just couldn’t wait.”
“That’s quite all right,” Mason said. “The tip panned out. Won’t you sit down?”
“What was it?” Mrs. Tump asked. “What have you found out?”
Mason waited until they were seated. “Albert Tidings is dead,” he said. “We found his body stretched out on a bed in a bungalow owned by his wife. We notified the police. He’d been shot in the left side. Police can’t find the gun. There was one in his pocket, but it hadn’t been fired, and it’s the wrong caliber anyway. There was a faint smudge of lipstick on his lips.”
Byrl Gailord stifled a faint exclamation. Mrs. Tump stared at Mason with startled eyes. “You’re sure it was he?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mason said. “Mrs. Tidings identified him.”
“The body was found in her house?”
“Yes.”
“Where was she?”
“She’d been in Reno,” Mason said. “She happened to return at about the time we discovered the body.”
Byrl Gailord said, simply, “I’m glad it wasn’t suicide. I’d always have felt that we — well, hounded him into it.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Tump said.
“I couldn’t have helped feeling that way,” Byrl Gailord insisted. “I liked him a lot, although I distrusted him in some ways. I think he was the kind who would have taken a lot of financial liberties, figuring that things were going to turn out all right.”
“He was a crook,” Mrs. Tump said. “His whole record shows it.”
“He was very kind to me personally,” Byrl observed, biting her lip and fighting back tears.
“Of course he was kind to you,” Mrs. Tump said. “He was embezzling your money. Why shouldn’t he have kidded you along? You were Santa Claus.”
Byrl said, “The accounts may be out of balance, but his intentions were the best. If he’d made some poor investments, he’d have tried to plunge in order to get them back. I don’t think he’d deliberately embezzle any of my money, but I did resent his attitude towards you.”
Mrs. Tump said nothing.
“When… when did it happen?” Byrl Gailord asked, at length.
“Sometime after noon on Tuesday,” Mason said. “The coroner rushed the body to an autopsy to have an examination made that would give him an exact time.”
“And where does that leave Byrl?” Mrs. Tump asked.
“The court will appoint another trustee,” Mason said. “There’ll be a complete check-up on the accounts.”
Mrs. Tump met his eyes steadily. “Very well, Mr. Mason. Let’s be businesslike… Does this mean that we don’t need your services?”
Mason said, “Yes.”
“I don’t see why,” Byrl Gailord said.
“Because there’s nothing he can do now,” Mrs. Tump said. “There’s no need to pay Mr. Mason a fee if there’s nothing he can do.”
“That’s right,” Mason agreed.
“Isn’t there any thing you can do?” Byrl Gailord asked. “No way in which you can — well, sort of look after my interests?”
“I can keep an eye open,” Mason said. “If I find something that will justify my employment, I’ll take it up with you. The court will probably appoint some trust company as a trustee. The trust accounts will have to be carefully examined.”
“Can I be appointed?” Mrs. Tump asked.
“Perhaps,” Mason said, “but a court would be more inclined to appoint a company which had auditing facilities at its command.”
“I’d serve without compensation just to get things straightened up.”
“We’ll have to wait a few days until we can find out more about it,” Mason said. “A court might permit Miss Gailord to nominate the trustee.”
“I’d want Mrs. Tump, of course,” Byrl Gailord said.
The telephone on Mason’s desk rang sharply. Mason said, “Excuse me,” picked up the receiver, and heard the voice of his receptionist saying, “Sergeant Holcomb is here. He says he must see you immediately. There’s a man with him.”
Mason thought for a moment. “Did you tell him I was busy, Gertie?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t give him the names of my clients, did you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“Tell him I’ll be right out,” Mason said.
He hung up the telephone and excused himself to his clients. “Sergeant Holcomb of the Homicide Squad is outside,” he said. “He wants to see me at once. I won’t be long. Excuse me, please,” and went out to the reception office, carefully closing the door of his private office behind him.
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Let’s go some place where we can talk.”
“The law library is available,” Mason said, opening the door to the long room with its shelves lined with books.
The officer nodded to the young man who was with him, and said, “All right, Mattern. Come along.”
Mason shifted his eyes to make a quick appraisal of the young man. He was somewhere in the late twenties with a head which seemed too large for his body. The bulging, prominent forehead and slightly protruding eyes gave him an appearance of owlish intellectuality which was emphasized by large, dark-rimmed spectacles.
Mason led the way into the law library and closed the door. “What is it, Sergeant?” he asked.
Sergeant Holcomb jerked his head toward the narrow-shouldered young man. “Carl Mattern,” he said, “Tidings’ secretary.”
Mason nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction. Mattern didn’t say anything. He seemed intensely nervous.
Sergeant Holcomb said, “You’re representing Byrl Gailord?”
Mason hesitated a moment, then said, “On certain matters, yes.”
“What’s that other name?” Holcomb asked Mattern.
“Tump. Mrs. A. E. Tump.”
“Know her?” Holcomb asked Mason.
“Yes.”
“She your client?”
“Not exactly. What are you getting at?”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Mattern says you called up and talked with Tidings yesterday about an appointment.”
“Yes. I told you I’d talked with him on the phone.”
“That appointment was to discuss Byrl Gailord’s affairs?”
“In a way, yes.”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Where can I find Byrl Gailord now?”
Mason said, “That’s something I don’t feel called upon to answer — not as matters stand now.”
“Not being much help, are you?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
Mason said, “If you’ll come down to earth and tell me what you’re driving at, I might be able to help you.”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “I’m checking up on motives, that’s all. Mrs. Tump and Byrl Gailord were making things pretty hot for Tidings. They tried to see him Monday afternoon, and Tidings refused to talk with them. They were hanging around outside his office, waiting for him to come out. Tidings said he’d see Miss Gailord, but he’d be damned if he’d talk to Mrs. Tump; said she was a hellcat.”
“So she killed him?” Mason asked with a smile.
“Nuts,” Holcomb said. “You know what I’m after, Mason. I want the low-down. I want to know what they knew about him, and whether they accused him of embezzling funds. After all, when a man’s killed, we check up on his enemies. You know that as well as I do… As far as that’s concerned, a woman could have killed him as well as a man… That lipstick makes it look like a woman.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Tump uses any,” Mason said with a smile.
Sergeant Holcomb frowned and started to say something, but paused as the door leading to the reception office opened, and Gertie said, “I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s someone on the line who says he must speak with Sergeant Holcomb right away.”
Sergeant Holcomb looked around the room. “Can I take the call on this phone?” he asked, indicating an extension phone on a small table near the window.
Gertie said, “I’ll connect you,” and stepped back into the reception room, closing the door to the law library.
Sergeant Holcomb picked up the telephone, said, “Hello,” then after several seconds said again, “All right… hello. Who is it?… All right. Go ahead.”
Carl Mattern said in a low voice to Mason, “This has upset me frightfully. I’m so nervous I can hardly think straight.”
Mason looked down at the wide, greenish-blue eyes which stared steadily up from behind the horn-rimmed glasses. “I presume it was quite a shock,” he said. “It must…”
He broke off as Sergeant Holcomb, muttering an oath, slammed the receiver back into place, and, with no word of explanation, took two quick strides toward the door which led to Mason’s private office.
“Don’t go in there,” Mason said.
Sergeant Holcomb ignored Mason. He jerked open the door, strode into the private office.
The two women, sitting huddled in a whispered conference, looked up in surprise.
Holcomb swung back to face Mason. “Holding out on me, eh? If I hadn’t been tipped off that she was on her way to your office, I’d have fallen for it… That sort of stuff isn’t going to get you any place, Mason.”
Mason said, “I don’t have to report to you when a client calls on me. I’m having a conference with these women.”
“Well, ain’t that too bad?” Sergeant Holcomb said. “That conference is going to wait until I ask a few questions… You two women were having some trouble with Albert Tidings, weren’t you?”
Abigail Tump took the conversational lead. “Certainly,” she said. “And the Hastings Hospital was having trouble with him. Mr. Tidings was a crook.”
“You know he’s dead?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
“Yes. Mr. Mason told me.”
“All right,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “Now you went to Tidings’ office Monday afternoon to try and see him. He told his secretary to tell you that he’d talk with Byrl Gailord, but he’d be damned if he’d talk with you. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Tump said.
“But you did talk with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She said, “We waited outside in the parking lot where he keeps his automobile. Byrl knew where it was. We parked our car right next to his.”
“What time did you talk with him?”
“Right after he left the office Monday, about four-thirty or quarter to five.”
“Did you make any threats?”
Mrs. Tump took a deep breath and seemed to swell up with indignation. “Did I make any threats?” she asked. “Well, I like that! Threats indeed! That man threatened to have me arrested for defamation of character. He said I’d poisoned Byrl’s mind against him. He said that under the trust he had absolute discretion as to what he’d give her and when he’d give it to her, and if I didn’t quite interfering, he wouldn’t give Byrl one damn cent. Those were his exact words, young man. One damn cent. Does that sound as though I was threatening him?”
“And what did you tell him?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
She said, “I told him that he was going to be forced to make a complete accounting on that trust fund, and tell Byrl exactly how her affairs stood, that I wasn’t anybody’s fool, and that I was going to consult a lawyer.”
“Then what?” Holcomb asked.
“Then,” she said, “I told him that Mr. Perry Mason was going to be my lawyer, and that Mr. Mason would call on him at eleven o’clock the next morning. And that seemed to knock him for a loop. He mumbled something we couldn’t hear, and started his car and drove away.”
Sergeant Holcomb glanced inquiringly at Byrl Gailord. “You were there?” he asked.
She nodded.
“How does that check with your recollection of what happened?”
Byrl Gailord lowered her eyes thoughtfully for a moment, then said almost inaudibly, “It isn’t the way I remember it.”
Sergeant Holcomb pounced on her statement. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
She said, “Uncle Albert — that’s Mr. Tidings — wasn’t quite as short and irritable as it would seem from the way Mrs. Tump tells it.”
“He was, too,” Mrs. Tump said indignantly. “He was very abusive. He…”
“I don’t think you understand Uncle Albert as well as I do,” Byrl Gailord interrupted. “He’s exceedingly nervous when he’s in a hurry, and he was in a hurry then.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Tump admitted, “he did say something about an appointment.”
“An appointment?” Sergeant Holcomb asked eagerly. “Who with?”
“He didn’t say,” Mrs. Tump said.
“A lady,” Byrl Gailord corrected.
“Yes, that’s right. He did say something about he couldn’t keep a lady waiting,” Mrs. Tump agreed, “but he didn’t say definitely that it was an appointment.”
“Well, not in so many words,” Byrl supplemented, “but I gathered that he had an appointment with a young woman.”
“A social engagement?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
Byrl twisted her gloves. “Personally,” she said, “I think it was a business appointment, and I think it was something which worried him very much, something which made him preoccupied and irritable.”
“You’re giving him altogether too much credit,” Mrs. Tump said. “The man was rude, impertinent, and — and ugly. He was trying to be abusive.”
Byrl Gailord shook her head decisively, and met Sergeant Holcomb’s eyes. “That isn’t true, Sergeant,” she said. “Mrs. Tump didn’t know him well, that’s all. If you investigate, you’ll find Mr. Tidings had a very important appointment, and he was in a hurry to keep it. It was an appointment which meant a great deal to him, either personally or in a business way.”
Carl Mattern said, “That agrees with what I told you, Sergeant.”
Sergeant Holcomb frowned to him. “You said that Tidings knew these women were hanging around the parking place.”
“I think he did,” Mattern said. “He saw them drive in there, but I told you that I thought Mr. Tidings had an important appointment. That appointment was with a woman, I’m quite certain… And I think it was on business matters.”
“You don’t know what business?”
Mattern chose his words carefully. “It was with a woman who had been making some trouble for Mr. Tidings, or was in a position to make some trouble for him. I know that.”
“You can’t give me her name?”
“No.”
“When did Tidings come to his office Tuesday morning?”
“Around nine-thirty. Between nine-thirty and ten.”
“And he didn’t say anything about having kept an appointment Monday night?”
“No.”
“Didn’t say anything about where he’d been or whom he’d seen?”
“Not a word.”
“Could you tell anything from his manner?”
“Well, he seemed more at ease, I thought… A little less nervous, but that may have been merely my impression.”
Sergeant Holcomb turned back to Mrs. Tump. “Now then, Mrs. Tump,” he said. “You went back to Tidings’ office on Tuesday morning, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Tump fidgeted uneasily in her chair.
“Go ahead,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “Answer the question.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Well,” she said, “I figured… I don’t know. I just wanted to give him one more chance.”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “You figured that you’d arranged with Mason to ring him up and frighten him, that the thought that Perry Mason was going to represent Byrl Gailord would scare Tidings into making some sort of a settlement, and you intended to see him and make a settlement direct and chisel Mason out of a lawyer’s fee, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Tump said indignantly, “I did nothing of the sort,” but her eyes avoided those of Mason and of Sergeant Holcomb.
Sergeant Holcomb smiled frostily at Mason. “Why did you want to see him?” he asked Mrs. Tump.
“I… Well, I wanted to explain to him that — well, I wanted to tell him that Mr. Mason was going to act for Byrl.”
“That was the only information you wanted to give him?”
“Yes.”
Sergeant Holcomb grinned triumphantly. “We’ll let it go at that. What time did you get there?”
Mrs. Tump nodded to Mattern. “His secretary knows. It was shortly before noon.”
“And Tidings wasn’t in his office?”
“The secretary said he wasn’t in his office.”
“But you didn’t believe that?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“You went over to the parking lot again?”
“I looked around there, yes.”
“And then you went to Mr. Tidings’ club?”
There was a distinct pause before Mrs. Tump said, “Yes.”
“And somewhere along the line,” Sergeant Holcomb said triumphantly, “you found out where Tidings was. You followed him out to the home of his wife, where the body was found, and you had your last conversation with him there, didn’t you, Mrs. Tump?”
She met his eyes then with indignant denial. “I did nothing of the sort,” she said. “You have absolutely no right to make such a statement. I can make trouble for you on that.”
“Where were you at one o’clock Tuesday afternoon?”
“Why, I… I’d have to think… Wait a minute. I was at my hairdresser’s. I had a twelve-thirty appointment.”
Sergeant Holcomb frowned thoughtfully. “Where were you, Miss Gailord?”
She said, “Why, I don’t know… Tuesday… Oh, I know. I was having lunch with Coleman Reeger… I guess you know him. He’s the polo player. His family is very prominent socially.”
Sergeant Holcomb walked over to the telephone on Mason’s desk, picked it up, and said, “Put me through to police headquarters. I want to get the autopsy surgeon who’s working on the body of Albert Tidings. I’ll hold the phone.”
He stood with the receiver held to his ear.
Mattern said to Mason, “I can tell you some things now, Mr. Mason, which I wasn’t at liberty to say before. As far as Miss Gailord’s affairs are concerned, I know something about them. The very last thing Mr. Tidings did was to make a most advantageous deal for Miss Gailord.”
“What was it?” Mason asked.
“He sold out ten thousand shares of stock in the Seaboard Consolidated Freighters, and invested the proceeds in Western Prospecting. Just before he left the office, he told me to be sure to take the check down to Loftus & Cale, to see that the deal was put through.”
“How much was the check?” Mason asked.
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“What’s Western Prospecting? Is that a listed stock?” Mrs. Tump asked.
“No, Mrs. Tump. It’s not listed.”
“I never heard of it,” Mason said.
“Well,” Mattern said, “confidentially, they’ve struck… I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, but I can’t divulge details, but Mr. Tidings made a complete investigation. Out of that one deal, Miss Gailord will net — well, let’s call it a handsome profit.”
“Why so cagey?” Mason asked.
“Because,” Mattern said, “the information is highly confidential, and you know there’s nothing on earth so dangerous as having information leak out on a stock deal. I didn’t intend to say anything about the stock as an investment. I merely mentioned it to show that Mr. Tidings was working in Miss Gailord’s interests. He devoted weeks of study to the situation. He’d had a mining expert making confidential reports on the holdings of Western Prospecting, and had been to considerable pains to get detailed, accurate information on one of their holdings — a mining property.”
Mason said, “There’s no reason why you can’t give Miss Gailord any information you have about that stock.”
Mattern said, “You’re a lawyer, Mr. Mason. I’m not. I’m not going to match wits with you, and I’m not going to argue law; but I presume Mr. Tidings’ estate will have to be administered. The administrator will have a lawyer. I’ll turn my information over to the administrator, and you can talk with the administrator’s lawyer… I think you can appreciate my position.”
“What time did you take this check over to the broker’s?”
“Shortly before eleven.”
“Tuesday morning?” Mason asked.
“Yes, sir. I left with the check a short time after you called.”
“And that was a personal check issued by Mr. Tidings?”
“No, sir. It was a cashier’s check… The amount was rather large, and for certain reasons Mr. Tidings was very anxious to have the matter concluded without waiting for a personal check to clear. He’d got the cashier’s check Monday.”
“He didn’t take it over personally?” Mason said.
“No, sir. He sent me. That’s one of the things I’m for, to relieve him of detail work of that sort.”
“And when did Tidings leave his office?”
“At the same time I did. He went down in the elevator with me.”
“And didn’t tell you where you could reach him to report on the completion of the transaction?”
“No, sir. He called me.”
“When was that?” Sergeant Holcomb asked, putting his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone.
“I would say it was shortly before noon.”
“Tuesday morning?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say where he was calling from?” Mason asked.
“No, sir. He didn’t.”
Mason said, “Then the last we know of…”
“Hold it,” Sergeant Holcomb said to Mason, and then into the telephone transmitter, “Yes. Hello. This is Sergeant Holcomb, Doctor. I want the dope on Albert Tidings. I want to know exactly when he died… Yes, of course, I understand you haven’t completed your examination, but you’ve certainly gone far enough to give me a pretty good guess… Well, what’s the temperature of the room got to do with it?… I see… What?… What’s that?… Now, wait a minute. That doesn’t check with the evidence… No, it couldn’t have been that early… Ten o’clock at the latest?… You’ll have to up that by three hours… Well, get busy on it… Of course, I want the exact facts, but I don’t want you to make a monkey out of yourself and the department, too… You get the chief autopsy surgeon on that.”
Sergeant Holcomb banged up the receiver.
Mason grinned at Byrl Gailord, then turned to Sergeant Holcomb and inquired courteously, “What did he say, Sergeant?”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “He doesn’t know. He hasn’t completed his examination… Those doctors are a pain in the neck. I left word they were to go to work on that the minute the body was received at the coroner’s office.”
Mason smiled at Mrs. Tump. “Well, Mrs. Tump,” he said. “I guess you won’t have to produce any alibi to show that you didn’t drag Tidings out of his club, shoot him, and drive him up to Mrs. Tidings’ house. The autopsy surgeon has just advised Sergeant Holcomb that the man has been dead since ten o’clock Tuesday morning.”
Sergeant Holcomb frowned at Mason. “You’re using a lot of imagination,” he said.
Mason picked up the telephone, and when he heard Gertie’s voice on the line, asked, “Did you listen in on that telephone conversation, Gertie?”
“Uh huh,” she said.
Mason said, “Thanks. That’s all.”
He dropped the receiver back into its cradle, and smiled at Sergeant Holcomb’s discomfiture.
“Those doctors,” Sergeant Holcomb said, “are a bunch of boobs. How the devil can a man work up a case with a lot of nitwits tying his hands?”
Mattern said, “Why, I know he was alive shortly before noon. I talked with him over the telephone.”
Mason said, “You talked with someone who said he was Tidings.”
“I talked with Tidings.”
“You recognized his voice?”
“Well… well, I thought so at the time.”
Mason said, “Voices can be imitated, you know.”
“Exactly when did he leave the office?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
Mattern said, “Well, to tell you the truth, Sergeant, I don’t know the exact time. It was right after his conversation with Mr. Mason — just a few minutes after that.”
“Can you,” Sergeant Holcomb asked Mason, “fix the exact time of that conversation?”
Mason said cautiously, “I might reconstruct it from data which I could assemble, Sergeant, but I can’t give you the exact time right now.”
Sergeant Holcomb said irritably, “What are you so damned cagey about, Mason? Your clients are in the clear — if their alibis hold up. Why not tell me exactly when that conversation was?”
Mason glanced significantly at Byrl Gailord. “I think,” he said, “that there’s one matter I’ll have to investigate first.
“What’s that?”
“The stock of the Western Prospecting Company.”
Carl Mattern said, “I can tell you all about that, Mr. Mason.”
“You haven’t done so, so far,” Mason said.
“It’s a good investment.”
“I prefer to make my own investigations and draw my own conclusions.”
“Well, you’ll find it’s a good investment.”
Sergeant Holcomb nodded to Mattern. “All right,” he said, “that’s all. Let’s go.” He turned to Mason and said, “The next time I’m investigating a murder and want to talk with clients of yours, and they’re in your office, don’t try to hold out on me.”
“I didn’t,” Mason said. “I simply wanted my clients to make their own appointments.”
Sergeant Holcomb stared at Mason, “You,” he said, “don’t co-operate very much with the authorities. Some day, it’s going to get you into trouble… Come on, Mattern.”
They left the office.
Mason turned to the two women. He said, “I told you that I couldn’t be of any particular assistance… I think now that I can.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Mason?” Mrs. Tump asked.
Mason said, “I want to know more about that deal covering the Western Prospecting Company stock. We may be able to set that sale aside — if we want to.”
“But I don’t see how,” Mrs. Tump said.
Mason said, “Neither do I as yet, but Sergeant Holcomb is in a fix. The autopsy surgeon is going to say Tidings was killed within ten or fifteen minutes of the time he left his office Tuesday morning.”
“Well?” Mrs. Tump asked.
Mason said, “A dead man can’t buy stock.”
Mrs. Tump and Byrl Gailord exchanged glances. Then Mrs. Tump said, “But suppose it should turn out the stock really is a good buy?”
“Then,” Mason said, “we’ll simply sit tight… Now then, you run along and let me get busy.”
The women arose. Byrl Gailord gave him her hand, and said, “I have implicit confidence in you, Mr. Mason. Thanks very much.”
Mrs. Tump said nervously, “Mr. Mason, I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to double-cross you. I… Well, I wanted to see Mr. Tidings and let him know that I wasn’t bluffing; that I said I’d go to you and that I’d gone to you.”
Mason said, “Forget it. Even if you had been trying to effect a last minute settlement with him, it would have been all right with me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mason. You’re so kind. You make me feel like a… like a…”
“Like a heel,” Byrl Gailord interrupted, laughing. “But really, Mr. Mason, Mrs. Tump was working for my best interests, and she wants to save every dime of my money she can. Come on now, Abigail. ’Fess up.”
Mrs. Tump laughed. “I don’t need to ’fess up, Byrl. I’ve been caught with the goods… Good-by, Mr. Mason.”
Mason and Della Street watched them out of the office.
“The chiseler,” Della Street said.
Mason nodded. “They’ll all do that,” he said, “if they’re smart enough… Get my broker on the line, Della. Tell him to find out everything about Western Prospecting, what the stock can be sold for, and who unloaded a block of fifty thousand dollars’ worth on Tuesday morning.”
“Do you want to talk with Loftus & Cale?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Mason said. “I want to be loaded for bear when I talk with them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “Call it a hunch if you want. I think there’s something fishy about that stock deal. Tidings was being crowded. He must have known that Adelle Hastings was going to put the screws on him…”
“His Monday night appointment was with her?” Della Street asked.
“Looks like it,” Mason said. “Sergeant Holcomb didn’t mention any names, so I didn’t… Ring Paul Drake. Tell him to find Robert Peltham, and ring up the Contractor’s Journal and put in a classified ad. Simply say, ‘P: Must talk with you, personally if possible. Otherwise over the telephone. Will mention no names over the telephone but must have additional accurate information at once. M.’ ”
Della Street’s pencil flew over the lines of her shorthand notebook. “Okay, Chief,” she said. “Anything else?”
“No,” Mason said, “but get busy on that stock deal, and tell Drake to keep his ear to the ground on that murder case.”
Della Street said, “If your clients are in the clear, Chief, why worry about the murder?”
Mason said, “Because, Della, I’m caught in a trap. I’m afraid some woman is going to come into this office at such time as suits her convenience, and hand me the other part of that ten-thousand-dollar bill, and say, ‘Go ahead and represent me, Mr. Mason.’ And it’s an even money bet that the hand holding that part of the ten-thousand-dollar bill will be the one that held the gun when Tidings was killed.”
“Within fifteen minutes after he left his office Tuesday morning?” Della Street asked skeptically.
“Somebody killed him,” Mason said.
“Then you don’t believe that it was Tidings who called the secretary at noon Tuesday to find out whether the deal had been completed?”
“The autopsy surgeon doesn’t,” Mason said significantly.