The Case of the Stuttering Bishop (14 page)

"After the murder, you were mixed in so deep you had to get her out in order to get yourself out. You had to get that key from Pete, because that key corroborated his testimony. So you trapped Pete into an apartment where you could beat him up and grab the evidence, but we've got just a little more on Julia Branner than you figured. You've made your bed, and now you can lie in it."

Mason got to his feet. Stockton set down the empty glass, took a step toward Mason and said, "And don't come here any more. Do you get that?"

Mason stared at the man moodily. "I have," he said, slowly, "already smashed one nose, and I'd just as soon smash another."

Stockton stood still, neither retreating nor advancing. "And you have already stolen some papers which were evidence in the case," he said. "When Pete tried to get back that evidence you swung on him and pulled a gun on me. Don't forget that. And if you keep on playing around with this bunch of blackmailers you're tied up with, you'll probably find yourself mixed in a murder charge."

Mason strode toward the door, but turned in the doorway. "How much of a cut are you supposed to get out of the inheritance for having dug up an heir to the estate?" he asked.

Stockton grinned mirthlessly and said, "Don't bother about it now, Mason. Write me a letter from San Quentin. You'll have more time to think things over when you get up there."

Mason left the room, took the elevator to the lobby, and was halfway across the sidewalk when someone touched him on the arm. He whirled to encounter Philip Brownley. "Hello," he said, "what are you doing here?"

Brownley said grimly, "I'm keeping watch on Janice."

"Afraid something's going to happen to her?" Mason asked.

Brownley shook his head and said, "Look here, Mr. Mason, I want to talk with you."

"Go on and talk," Mason told him.

"Not here."

"Where?"

"My car's parked at the curb. I saw you go in, and called to you, but you didn't hear me. I was waiting for you to come out. Let's sit in my car and talk."

Mason said, "I don't like the climate around here. A man by the name of Stockton is playing smart… Do you know Stockton?"

Brownley said slowly, "He's the one who helped Janice kill Grandfather."

Mason's eyes bored steadily into Brownley's. "Are you just talking?" he asked. "Or are you saying something?"

"I'm saying something."

"Where's your car?"

"Over here."

"All right. Let's get in it."

Brownley opened the door of a big gray cabriolet and slid in behind the steering wheel. Mason climbed in beside him, sitting next to the curb, and pulled the door shut.

"This your car?" he asked.

"Yes."

"All right, what about Janice?"

There were dark circles under Brownley's eyes. His face was white and haggard. He lit a cigarette with a hand that trembled, but when he spoke his voice was steady. "I took the message the cab driver left last night – or rather this morning," he said.

"What did you do with it?"

"Took it up to my grandfather."

"Was he asleep?"

"No. He'd gone to bed, but he wasn't sleeping. He was reading a book."

"So what?" Mason asked.

"He read the message and got excited as the devil. He jumped into his clothes and told me to have someone get his car out, that he was going down to the beach to meet Julia Branner; that Julia had promised to give him back Oscar's watch if he'd come alone without being followed and go aboard his yacht where she could talk with him without being interrupted."

"He told you that?" Mason asked.

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"I advised him not to go."

"Why?"

"I thought it was a trap."

Mason's eyes narrowed slowly. "Did you think someone would try to kill him?"

"No. Of course not. But I thought they might try to trap him into some compromising situation, or into making statements."

Mason nodded. There was a moment or two of silence, and then the lawyer said. "Go on. This is your party. You're doing the talking."

"I went down personally and opened the garage so Grandfather could get his car out. When he came down I begged him to let me drive him. It was a mean night, and Grandfather isn't… wasn't… so much of a driver. He couldn't see well at night."

"And he wouldn't let you drive?" Mason asked.

"No. He said he must go alone; that Julia's letter insisted he must be alone and that no one must follow him, otherwise he'd have his trip for nothing."

"Where is this note?"

"I think Grandfather put it in his coat pocket."

"Go ahead… No, wait a minute. He told you he was going to his yacht?"

"That's what I understood him to say; that Julia wanted to meet him aboard the yacht."

"All right. Go ahead."

"Well, he went out of the garage and I went back to the house, and there was Janice, all dressed and waiting for me."

"What did she want?" Mason asked.

"She said she'd heard the commotion and thought perhaps there was something wrong and wanted to know…"

"Wait a minute," Mason interrupted. "How was she dressed – in evening clothes, or what?"

"No, she had on a sport outfit."

"Go on," Mason said.

"She wanted to know what had happened, and I told her. She was furious with me for letting Grandfather go, and said I should have stopped him."

"Then what?"

"Then I told her she was crazy; that I couldn't have held him with a block and tackle, and I went upstairs. I waited for her to come up. I heard her come up just behind me, and then, after a minute or two, I heard her leave her room and start downstairs again. So I sneaked out in the hall and took a look down the stairs. She was tiptoeing so as not to make any noise, and she was wearing a rain coat."

"What sort of a rain coat?" Mason asked tonelessly.

"A very light yellow rain coat."

Mason pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it silently. "Go on," he said.

"She sneaked downstairs," Brownley said, "and I followed her."

"Trying not to make any noise?"

"Yes, of course."

"Go on."

"She went to the garage and took out her car."

"What sort of a car?"

"A light yellow Cadillac coupe."

Mason settled back against the cushions. "You saw her leave?"

"Yes."

"How long after your grandfather left?"

"Just a minute or two."

"All right, what did you do?"

"I waited until she'd left the garage and then I sprinted for my car and got it started. I didn't turn on the lights, and followed her."

"Could you keep her car in sight?"

"Yes."

"You had told her your grandfather was going down to his yacht to meet Julia?"

"Yes."

"And she went down to the beach?" Mason asked.

"I don't know. That's what I wanted to tell you about."

"But I thought you said you'd followed her!"

"I did, as well as I could."

"Go ahead," Mason told him. "Tell me in your own way just what happened, but tell it to me fast. It may be important as hell."

"She was driving like the devil," Brownley said, "and it was raining pitchforks. I had to keep my lights out, and it was all I could do to follow her…"

"Skip all that," Mason told him. "You followed her, did you?"

" Yes."

"Okay. Where did she go?"

"She went down Figueroa to Fifty-second Street, and then she turned off and parked the car."

"On Figueroa, or on Fifty-second?"

"On Fifty-second."

"What did you do?"

"Slid my car into the curb on Figueroa, switched off the ignition and jumped out."

"And of course that's on the road to the beach," Mason commented musingly.

Brownley nodded.

"Go on," Mason told him impatiently. "What happened?"

"She was walking ahead of me in the rain. In fact, she was running."

"Could you see her?"

"Yes. The light yellow rain coat showed up as a light patch. I ran as hard as I could without making any noise, and of course, I could go faster than she could. That light-colored rain coat was easy to follow. I could see it indistinctly, but you know how it would be…"

"Yes. I know," Mason said. "Where did she go?"

"She walked four blocks."

"Walked four blocks!" Mason exclaimed.

"Yes."

"Why didn't she drive?"

"I don't know."

"You mean to say she was driving a light yellow Cadillac coupe and she parked it on Fifty-second just off Figueroa and then walked four blocks through a driving rain?"

"She ran most of the way."

"I don't care whether she was running or walking. What I mean is, she left the car and went on foot?"

"Yes."

"Where did she go?"

"There's a little apartment house there. I don't think it has over eight or ten apartments in it. It's a frame house, and she went in there."

"Any lights?" Mason asked.

"Yes. There were lights on the second floor in the right-hand corner and on one side – it's only a two-story building. The shades were drawn, but I could see the light through the shades, and occasionally I could see a shadow moving across the curtains."

"You mean you stayed there and watched?"

"That's right."

"How long?"

"Until after daylight."

Mason gave a low whistle.

"I went up to look the place over," Brownley said, "and as nearly as I could figure from the mail boxes, the front apartment was in the name of Mr. and Mrs. Victor Stockton. I couldn't tell whether the side apartment which was lighted was in the name of Jerry Franks or Paul Montrose."

"And you stayed there until after daylight?"

"Yes."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, after it got light I moved farther away of course. And then I could see the back of the building as well as the front. There were a bunch of vacant lots along there and I found one where I could stay and watch."

"And it had quit raining then?"

"It was just quitting."

"Then what happened?"

"Then Janice and a short, chunky fellow, with a felt hat, came out of the place and walked rapidly down the sidewalk toward Figueroa Street. It was daylight then and I didn't dare to crowd them too closely. I waited until they'd got quite a start. You know, it wasn't bright daylight, just the gray of dawn."

"And Janice was wearing her rain coat?"

"Yes."

"The same one she had worn earlier?"

"Yes, of course."

"What did she do?"

"She and this fellow climbed in her car and turned it around and started back toward town. I made a run for my car, but by the time I got into it, started it and turned around they were far enough away to be out of sight. I stepped on the gas and finally caught up to where I could see them. I turned up the collar of my overcoat so they wouldn't recognize me, and turned on my headlights so it would be hard for them to see what the car looked like."

"But they knew, of course, you were following, after you turned your headlights on?"

"I guess so, yes. But they didn't slow down any or try to ditch me."

"There were other cars on the road?"

"Not very many. I think I met one or two, and maybe passed one. I can't be certain. I was watching Janice."

"And what did she do?"

"She drove directly to this hotel. She and this man got out. I had a chance to see him then. I think he has gray eyes and a gray mustache. He wears glasses and…"

"Ever see him again?" Mason asked.

"Yes. He's up there now. He went in about fifteen or twenty minutes ago."

"The same man?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Look here," Mason said slowly, "there was a back exit from that apartment house?"

"Yes."

"Did you watch it while you were shadowing the place?"

"No. That's what I've been trying to explain. I watched the front and that was all. After it got light enough to see, I got where I could see both front and back, but that was only a few minutes before they came out."

"And lights were on in these apartments when Janice got there?"

"Yes."

"And you stayed there all the time, watching the place?"

"Yes."

"But she might have gone in the front, out the back and then returned through the back door any time before daylight. Is that right?"