The Case of the Sulky Girl (4 page)

"Nobody," he said, "is going to show me out, or is going to throw me out until I have had an opportunity to say what I want to say. If that girl is being blackmailed, you'd better act like a human being instead of a cash register, and give her a break…"

There was a rustle of motion, and Frances Celane rushed into the room.

She looked at Mason with black eyes, which gave the effect of being expressionless, with a face that seemed pouting.

"You've done all you can do, Mr. Mason," she said.

Mason continued to glower at the man behind the desk.

"You're more than a treasurer," he said, "or should be. She should be able to look to you for…"

The girl tugged at his arm.

"Please, Mr. Mason," she said, "please. I know you're trying to do me a favor, but it's going to have just the opposite effect. Please don't."

Mason took a deep breath, turned, and stalked rigidly from the room. The butler slammed the door shut behind him. Mason turned to Frances Celane and said: "Of all the obstinate, cold-blooded, unsympathetic icebergs I have ever met, that man is the worst!"

She looked up at him and laughed.

"I knew," she said, "that if I tried to explain to you how utterly obstinate my uncle was, you would never believe me. So I welcomed the opportunity to let you find out firsthand. Now you understand the necessity for taking legal steps."

"All right," said Mason, grimly, "we'll take them."

ROBERT GLEASON AND FRANCES CELANE TOOK OUT A MARRIAGE LICENSE ON THE FOURTH OF LAST MONTH. THEY WERE MARRIED IN CLOVERDALE ON THE EIGHTH.

The message was signed with the initials of the law clerk.

Perry Mason stared at it for several minutes, then hooked his thumbs in his vest and started pacing the floor of the office.

After a while he swung into the law library, took down a volume of "Cyc" dealing with wills, started reading.

He interrupted his reading to go to the book case and get a volume of the Pacific Reporter. He read the reported cases for some little time, then started taking other case books from the shelves.

He worked in cold, silent concentration, moving efficiently and tirelessly, his eyes hard and steady, his face without expression.

Somewhere a clock struck midnight, but Perry Mason kept on working. The pile of law books on the table grew larger and larger. He prowled around through the library, pulling down various books, turning to cases, studying intently. Once in a while he made a brief note. Frequently he book-marked cases, and placed them to one side.

About fifteen minutes past one o'clock in the morning the telephone rang.

Mason frowned and paid no attention to it.

The telephone continued to ring insistently, imperatively.

Mason uttered an exclamation, turned to the telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello," he said, "you've got the wrong number."

A voice said: "I beg your pardon, sir, but is this Mr. Mason, the lawyer?"

"Yes," said Perry Mason, irritably.

"Just a minute," said the voice.

Mason held the telephone, and heard a swift whisper, then the voice of Frances Celane: "Mr. Mason?"

"Yes."

"You must come at once," she said.

"Come where, and why?" he asked. "What's the trouble?"

"Come out to the house," she told him. "My uncle has just been murdered!"

"Has just what?"

"Has just been murdered!" she said.

"Do they know who did it?" he asked.

"They think they do," she said, in a low, almost surreptitious voice. "Come at once!" and the line went dead as the receiver slipped into place on the other end of the wire.

Perry Mason left the office without pausing to switch out the lights. The night watchman brought up the elevator and Mason pushed his way into it as soon as the door was open.

"Been working rather late, haven't you?" said the watchman.

Mason smiled mechanically.

"No rest for the wicked," he said.

He left the elevator, crossed the lobby of the office building, ran diagonally across the street to a hotel where there was a taxicab stand. He called the address of Norton's residence to the taxi driver. "Keep the throttle down to the floorboards," he said.

"Okay, buddy," said the drivel, and slammed the door.

Mason was slammed back in the cushions, as the car lurched forward. His face was unchanging, though his eyes were squinted in thought. Never once did he glance at the scenery which whizzed past.

Only when the taxi swung off to the driveway which sloped down the hill, did Mason lose his air of abstraction, and begin to take an interest in the surroundings.

The big house was illuminated, every window was a blaze of light. The grounds in front were also illuminated, and more than a dozen automobiles were parked in front of the place.

Mason discharged the taxicab, walked to the house, and saw the bulky form of Arthur Crinston silhouetted against the lights on the porch.

Crinston ran down the three steps to the cement.

"Mason," he said, "I'm glad you came. I want to see you before anybody else does."

He took the lawyer's arm and led him across the cement driveway, over a strip of lawn, and into the shadows of a hedge.

"Listen," he said, "this is a serious business. We don't know yet exactly how serious it is. I want you to promise me that you will stand by Fran. No matter what happens, see that she doesn't get mixed into this thing."

"Is she going to get mixed in it?" asked Mason.

"Not if you stand by her."

"Do you mean she's implicated in any way?" Mason demanded.

"No, no, not at all," Crinston hastened to assure him "but she's a peculiar individual, and she's got the devil's own temper. She's mixed up in it somehow, and I don't know just how. Shortly before his death, Edward Norton telephoned the police station and wanted his niece arrested, or that's what the police claim."

"Arrested?" exclaimed Mason.

"Well, not exactly that," said Crinston, "but he wanted her disciplined in some way. I can't just get the straight of it. You see, she had his Buick sedan out driving it. According to the police, Norton telephoned in that the sedan had been stolen and wanted the police to pick up the car and put the driver in jail. He said it didn't make any difference who was driving it."

"Then that must have been after I left here, and before Norton's death," Mason said.

Crinston shrugged his shoulders.

"According to the police," he said, "it was at eleven fifteen. Personally I think it's all a lot of hooey. The police must have made a mistake. Norton had his faults, and there were plenty of them, but he loved his niece in his own peculiar fashion. I can't believe he wanted her arrested."

"Well," said Mason, "forget that. How about the murder? Do they know who did it?"

"Apparently," said Crinston, "that's all taken care of. Pete Devoe, the chauffeur, got drunk and killed him in order to get some money. He tried to make it appear that burglars had broken in from the outside, but he bungled the job."

"How was Norton killed?" asked Mason.

"Devoe beat his head in with a club. It was a messy job. He hit him a frightful lick."

"Did they find the club?" the lawyer asked.

"Yes," said Crinston, "that's where Devoe slipped up. He took the club and hid it in a closet in his room. He didn't think the police would search the place, because he tried to make it appear burglars had broken in from the outside. You see, the police discovered the crime a lot sooner than anyone thought they would. It's quite a story, and I'll have to tell it to you when we've got more time. Don Graves actually saw the crime being committed."

"Give me a quick outline," said Mason. "Spill it fast."

Crinston took a deep breath, then hurried into speech "You know Norton is a night owl. He frequently keeps his office open until midnight. To-night he had an appointment with me, and I had an appointment with Municipal Judge Purley. I was late getting things cleaned up with Purley, so I persuaded Purley to drive me out here in his car, and wait for me. I only had to see Norton for a few minutes.

"I ran in and had my conference with Norton and then came out and started away with Judge Purley. Just as we started to drive away, Norton opened the window on the upper floor and called down to ask me if I would mind taking Don Graves with me. He was sending Graves after some important papers, and wanted him to go with us to save time. You see, they were papers that I had agreed to get for Graves – some documents relating to some of our partnership business.

"I asked Judge Purley if he had any objections, and Purley said it would be all right. So I called up to Norton to send Graves down, but Graves, anticipating it would be all right, by that time was at the door, and he ran right out and into the automobile.

"We started up the road toward the boulevard. You know how it curves and twists around. There's one place where you can look back and see into Norton's study. Graves happened to be looking back. He let out a yell. He said he had seen the figure of a man standing in Norton's study; that this man had a club, and had swung it down on Norton's head.

"Judge Purley ran the car to a place where he could turn around. He thought Graves might have been mistaken, but Graves insisted he couldn't have been mistaken. It was something he'd seen plainly. He insisted he was right. So Judge Purley drove back to the house, going pretty rapidly.

"When we got there, the three of us rushed into the house and up the stairs to the study.

"Norton was lying across his desk with the top of his head smashed in. His pockets were turned inside out. His wallet lay empty on the floor.

"We notified the police right away.

"There was a window in the dining room which had been jimmied open, and there were footprints outside in the loam. The prints were of very large feet, and the police think now that Devoe probably put a large pair of shoes on over his other shoes, in order to leave those prints and fool the police. You'll get the facts of the case when you go in."

Perry Mason stared thoughtfully into the half-darkness of the shadowed hedge.

"Why," he asked, "should Norton have accused his niece of stealing an automobile?"

"Probably a misunderstanding," said Crinston, "I don't think Norton had any idea his niece was the one who had the car. He just knew the car was missing, and telephoned the police. They were working on that when they were advised of the murder. So they're making inquiries, figuring the car business may have had something to do with it."

"Do they know that his niece had the car?" asked Mason.

"Yes. She's admitted having taken it out," said Crinston.

"It seems strange Norton would have wanted her arrested," persisted Mason.

"Well, he did," Crinston said, "unless the police got the wrong name, and that isn't likely, because they got the right car numbers. But Fran is a peculiar girl. You can't tell what she will do. For heaven's sake, talk with her, and don't let her get mixed up in this thing."

"You certainly don't think that she has anything to do with the murder?" asked Mason.

"I don't know," said Crinston, then hastily added: "No, no, of course not, she couldn't have. She's got a temper and they had quite a fight after you left. But she wouldn't have had the physical strength to strike such a blow anyway. And if she had had an accomplice… Oh well, there's no use speculating about that anyway, because it's all foolishness. Devoe is the one that's guilty all right. But you know how a murder is. It's going to bring out a lot of complications. I want you to get in touch with Fran and keep her out of the complications."

"Very well," said Mason, starting once more for the house. "But either you think she's mixed up in it, or else you're keeping something from me."

Crinston grabbed Mason's arm.

"As far as compensation is concerned," he said, "there's going to be a big difference now that Norton is out of the way. The partnership that Norton and I had has some assets, and then there's quite a bit of money in the trust fund which will go to the girl without any question, as I understand it.

"I've got confidence in you and I want you to step right in the saddle as attorney for everything. Act as attorney for the estate, as well as for the girl, and stand between her and too much police questioning."

Mason stopped still and turned to face Crinston.

"You might just as well be frank with me," he said. "You seem to think that the girl can't stand too much questioning."

Crinston's jaw snapped forward and his eyes met those of the attorney in a gaze that was every bit as steady as the gaze of the steely eyes which stared into his.

"Of course, she won't stand too much questioning," he snapped. "Have I been talking to you all this time without giving you any idea at all of what I'm driving at?"

"Why," asked Mason insistently, "won't she stand too much questioning? Do you think she's mixed up in the murder?"

"I'm just telling you," said Crinston obstinately, "that she won't stand too much questioning. She hasn't got the temperament for it, in the first place, and she's a spitfire when she loses her temper. It isn't the murder, it's the incidental things that may come out in connection with the investigation. Now you get to her and keep the police from asking her questions."

Mason said: "All right, I just didn't want to misunderstand you, that's all. I wanted to know if you felt there was danger of her getting into trouble."

"Of course there is!" Crinston snapped.

"You mean about her private affairs?" asked Mason.

"I mean about everything," Crinston said. "Come on. Let's get in the house."

An officer stood at the front porch and questioned Mason.

"He's all right," said Crinston. "He's my attorney, the attorney for the estate, and also the personal attorney for Frances Celane."

"All right," said the officer, "you folks that live here can go in and out, but you understand that you're not to touch anything, or interfere with the evidence at all."

"Of course," said Crinston, and pushed on ahead of him into the house.