The Case of the Baited Hook (17 page)

"Do you know if they are still watching it?"

"No, but they probably are."

Mason said, "That's going to complicate the situation a little."

Drake said suddenly, "Perry, I'll appreciate it a hell of a lot if you don't tell me anything more about what you're going to do. I don't like the sound of it."

Mason settled back against the cushion of Drake's car. "Neither do I," he said.

8

MASON, WEARING A LOW, BLACK FELT HAT, A TOPCOAT, and gloves, stepped casually from the taxicab in front of the Giltmont Arms Apartment Hotel. A liveried doorman reached for the two travel – stained suitcases which the cab driver handed out, suitcases which bore the labels of half a dozen foreign countries.

Mason paid off the cab driver, gave him a generous tip, and followed the doorman into the apartment hotel.

A heavy – set man, wearing square – toed, rubber – heeled shoes with heavy soles, looked up from a newspaper as Mason entered. He gave the lawyer a quick, flashing scrutiny, and then returned to his paper.

Mason said to the clerk, "I may be here for as much as two months. My niece is driving up her automobile for me to use. I'll want garage space for it. I don't care to be too high above the street, nor too near it. Something on about the tenth floor would be satisfactory. I am willing to go as high as two hundred and fifty dollars a month."

The clerk nodded. "I think I have just the thing," he said. "Mr. – er…"

"Perry," the lawyer said.

"Yes, Mr. Perry. I'll have a boy take you up for an inspection." He nodded to a bellboy. "Show Mr. Perry to 1042," he said.

Mason followed the bellboy to the elevator. 1042 was a well – furnished, three – room apartment with two exposures. Mason announced that it was quite satisfactory and had the bellboy bring up his suitcases. When he had been settled, he picked up the telephone and said to the clerk, "I told you my niece is bringing an automobile for my use. Kindly notify me when she arrives, and I'll go down and make arrangements for proper storage."

"That won't be at all necessary, Mr. Perry," the clerk said. "I'll instruct the garage man and…"

"No, thank you," Mason interposed firmly. "I want to make certain that the car is parked where it will be available at rather unusual hours. I'll talk with the garage man myself. A bit of a tip sometimes is most efficacious I've found."

"Yes, Mr. Perry," the clerk said suavely. "I'll let you know as soon as your niece arrives."

Mason hung up the receiver, opened one of his suitcases, took out a bundle of keys, and compared them with his door key. He selected three passkeys of similar design and started experimenting on his own door.

The second key worked the lock easily and smoothly. Mason detached it from the bundle and slipped it into his pocket. He closed the door of his apartment quietly behind him, and walked down the corridor until he came to the door bearing the number 1029. This was Peltham's apartment, and Mason, moving with calm assurance and a complete lack of nervousness, fitted his passkey to the door. The lock clicked back, and Mason entered the apartment.

He didn't switch on the lights, but took from his pocket a miniature flashlight about half the size of his little finger. Using that to guide him, he moved directly toward the clothes closet.

He selected a dark topcoat and made certain that the name of the tailor and the initials "R.P." appeared in the label on the inside of the inner pocket.

He folded the overcoat, put it over his arm, closed the closet door behind him, his gloved hands leaving no fingerprints, and quietly left the apartment.

Two minutes later, safely ensconced in his own apartment, Mason telephoned Della Street at me drugstore where she was waiting.

"Okay, Della," he said.

"Everything under control?" she asked.

"Clicking like clockwork."

"I'm on my way.'

Mason hung up the receiver and sat waiting. Within a few minutes the telephone rang, and the clerk said, "Your niece is here, Mr. Perry."

The detective in the lobby was still reading his newspaper when Mason stepped from the elevator into the lobby. He gave the lawyer only a cursory glance.

The clerk said, "The garage is around the corner to the right and down the incline, Mr. Perry."

"Thank you," Mason said. "I'll find it."

Della Street tucked her arm through Mason's. She was jaunty and chic in a sports outfit with her hat tilted at a saucy angle. "Hello, Uncle," she said.

"Hello, darling."

Della's car was parked at the curb. "Take off that wire?" Mason asked.

"Uh huh."

"All right," Mason said. "Wait here."

He walked rapidly to the corner, turned to the right, and walked down the incline which led down to the basement garage.

The garage attendant was seated in a sedan by the door, engrossed in a radio program. When he saw Mason, he hurriedly shut off the radio, and made a great show of being busy parking the car.

Mason waited until he had finished, then significantly took his wallet from his pocket.

"My name," he said, "is Perry."

The garage man nodded.

"I have just moved into 1042," Mason said. "My niece has kindly placed her car at my disposal for the duration of my stay. For some reason, her car won't start. She drove it up to the entrance all right and shut off the motor. Now, it won't start. Do you suppose you can get it going and bring it down for her?"

"Sure," the garage man said. "She's flooded the carburettor, that's all. Janes do that all the time. I'll go out and bring it in."

Mason had to move two cars before he could drive Peltham's car out to the street.

The garage man was still struggling with Della Street's refractory automobile as Mason glided smoothly by on the cross street. Looking back, he had a glimpse of Della Street's arm and hand extended through the window of the car, waving him on his way.

Mason drove some ten blocks, stopped at a drugstore, and telephoned Dr. Willmont at his club.

"Okay, Doctor," Mason said. "I'm ready for that experiment."

"How soon do you want it?"

"As soon as I can get it."

"Half an hour at the Hastings Memorial Hospital," Dr. Willmont said.

"All right. Put it in a can and leave it at the desk for me."

"I have a thermal unit which I use occasionally for transportation," Dr. Willmont said. "It'll be in that unit at the desk. See that I get the unit back when you've finished with the experiment."

"Okay," Mason told him. "That'll be tomorrow. You're sure it'll be ready in half an hour?"

"Yes. Everything's all ready. The donor's waiting, and my assistant is on the job awaiting instructions."

"Okay," Mason said, and hung up.

Mason piloted Peltham's automobile out to a place which was sufficiently isolated to serve his purpose. Stopping the car, he shut off the motor and spread Peltham's overcoat over a clump of brush, took a thirty – eight caliber revolver from his pocket, held the weapon close enough to leave powder burns in the cloth of the coat, and fired a shot into the left breast.

Tossing the coat into the car, Mason thrust the revolver back into his pocket and drove to the hospital. He picked up the thermal container with its content of human blood, and then drove Peltham's automobile to the exact place where Tidings' car had been found by the police.

Mason poured blood onto the overcoat around the hole which had been made by the bullet, both on the inside and outside. He saw that there were stains smeared liberally over the seat of the car and on the floorboards. He left spots on the steering wheel and trickled a rivulet down the inside of the overcoat to form in a puddle on the seat and floor.

When he exhausted his supply of blood, he surveyed the effect with critical appraisal and nodded with satisfaction.

Carrying the thermal container, he swung out in a long, brisk stride, heading northward. Headlights loomed ahead before he had gone two blocks, and Della Street slid her car into the curb.

"Okay, Chief?" she asked.

"Not a hitch anywhere," he said.

"Just what," she asked, "will this do?"

"It's going to smoke someone out into the open," Mason said, lighting a cigarette and settling back against the cushions of the car.

Fifteen minutes later Mason sent a telegram addressed to Miss Adelle Hastings at 906 Cleveland Square, which read:

HIGHLY IMPORTANT TO ASCERTAIN FROM P IF THERE IS ANY OBJECTION TO SETTING ASIDE SALE OF WESTERN PROSPECTING STOCK TO GAILORD TRUSTEE. PLEASE ASCERTAIN AT ONCE AND NOTIFY ME BY WIRE SENT TO MY OFFICE. M.

9

TIDINGS' SECRETARY, CARL MATTERN, OPENING THE DOOR of his apartment in response to Mason's knock, regarded the lawyer with his characteristic owlish scrutiny.

"Why, good evening, Mr. Mason."

"There's a minor matter I wanted to clear up, Mattern," Mason said. "I thought you could help me."

"Certainly. Won't you come in?"

"Thank you."

Mason entered the modest apartment. Mattern indicated a comfortable chair, and Mason dropped into it.

"What," Mattern asked, "can I do for you?"

"Not much for me," Mason said. "It's really for you."

"What do you mean?"

Mason said, "I'm not going to mention names, Mattern, but the claim has been made that you left the broker's office right after the completion of that stock deal and went out to report to Tidings, and while you were talking with him, there was a quarrel, that Tidings accused you of having a personal interest in the transaction and confronted you with proof, and that you shot him."

"That's absurd," Mattern said.

Mason nodded affably. "Thought I'd mention it to you," he said, "so you'd have a chance to clear it up."

"In the first place," Mattern said, "I can account for every minute of my time from the time I left that brokerage office."

"That's fine," Mason said. "Would you mind running over the schedule with me?"

Mattern took a notebook from his pocket. "Not at all," he said. "When I realized that it was going to be necessary for me to remember what had happened that day, I thought I'd better jot it down on paper."

"Good idea," Mason said.

"To begin with," Mattern said, "I left the brokerage office at eleven – eight. I made a point to notice the time when the deal was closed. I returned to my office, and Mr. Tidings called me just about noon. I told him that the deal had been concluded satisfactorily. Mrs. Tump had been trying to see him, and I told him about that. Then I rang up a friend of mine in one of the other offices and asked her to have lunch with me. We went down in the elevator at five minutes past twelve, and I returned with her at five minutes before one o'clock."

"I presume she can verify not only the occasion but the time," Mason said.

"Certainly. She works in an office where they go by the clock. Her lunch hour is from twelve to one. She has to be back at her desk promptly at one o'clock."

"I see," Mason said, "and after that?"

"After that," Mattern said, "I went back to Mr. Tidings' office. There were some matters to take up with the manager of the building, and I rang up the manager's secretary and asked for an appointment as near one – thirty as was convenient."

"You got one?"

"Yes, at one – twenty – five. I talked with the manager of the building for fifteen minutes. I had told his secretary that my business would not take longer than that, and I remember looking at my watch and commenting to her as I went out that it had been fifteen minutes on the dot."

"And then?" Mason asked.

"Then," Mattern said, "I went down to a jewelry store to see about buying a new wrist watch. A chap whom I know works there, and I looked at wrist watches for nearly half an hour."

"He'll remember the occasion?'

"Oh, yes."

"And the time?"

"He certainly will," Mattern said, laughing, "because we were discussing the accuracy of watches. I bet him that my own wrist watch wouldn't vary more than one second in half an hour from his standard chronometer. I was there half an hour, and we checked the second hand."

"That brings you up to two – thirty," Mason said.

"That's right."

"What did you do after two – thirty, Mattern?"

"I had some matters to go over with the accountant who makes out Mr. Tidings' income tax reports. I asked him to meet me at the office at quarter of three. We were there until five."

"And after five?" Mason inquired.

"I invited a young lady to meet me at five – twenty, to go to dinner and a movie."

"The same young lady whom you took to lunch?"

"No, another one."

"Why five – twenty in particular?" Mason asked.

"Well," Mattern said, "it was well, it just happened to be the time that I mentioned, that's all."

"Wasn't that rather early for a dinner date?"

"Yes, perhaps. But I wanted to get in to the show in time for the first picture."

"This young woman works?"

"No, she doesn't."

Mason said, "Well, let's go back to Tuesday morning."

"I came to the office at nine o'clock," Mattern said. "Mr. Tidings came in about nine – fifteen. We handled some correspondence until ten – thirty, then we discussed details in connection with the closing of the Western Prospecting deal, and you called up. That started Tidings sputtering about what a busybody Mrs. Tump was, and we discussed that for several minutes. Then Tidings went out, and I went over to close that Western Prospecting deal."

"See anyone except Tidings on Tuesday morning?" Mason asked.

"The brokers. Then there was Mrs. Tump shortly after eleven."

"I mean before that."

Mattern thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "No," he said. "I don't think anyone came to the office."

"Immediately after noon," Mason said, "your time seems to have been pretty well checked."

"Yes, sir. There's not more than twenty minutes at any one time, and it would have been a physical impossibility for anyone to get out to that bungalow where the body was found and back to the center of town within a twenty – minute period."

Mason said, "That's rather significant, don't you think, Carl?"

"What do you mean?" Mattern asked in surprise.

Mason said, "You haven't any alibi until around eleven o'clock on Tuesday morning. From then on, you have a perfect alibi covering every minute of the day, and the interesting thing is that in virtually every instance you made certain that the time would impress itself upon your witnesses."

"What do you mean?"

Mason stared at him steadily. "I mean, Carl," he said, "that you were trying to give yourself an alibi, that you were taking every precaution to see that every minute of your time was accounted for… Take for instance your comments with the secretary of the building manager on the length of time your conference had taken… The discussion about time at the jewelry store… The appointment with the tax accountant, and last of all that five – twenty dinner date."

"Why, I… I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Mason."

"Oh, yes, you do," Mason said gently. "You must have known he was dead before you went over to the broker's, Carl."

For a long moment, there was tense silence in the apartment. A cheap alarm clock ticked audibly on the dresser. Mattern's eyes, wide and protruding behind the dark – rimmed spectacles, showed consternation.

Mason said, "I don't think you killed him, Carl, but I do know that you were interested in that stock transaction. You knew that he was dead before it was time to go over to the broker's office, and you knew that you had to make it appear Tidings was alive at the time mat agreement was concluded.

"You were shrewd enough to realize that if you did make it appear he was alive at noon on Tuesday, the authorities would be forced to fix the time of death as almost immediately after noon, and so you were careful to build up an alibi which would protect you during the afternoon."

Mattern said, "Mr. Mason, I can assure that I did nothing of the sort. I…"

"Don't get yourself in bad," Mason said.

"What do you mean?"

"Simply this," Mason observed, crossing his legs, settling comfortably back against the chair, and lighting a cigarette. "I'm a mean fighter, Carl."

"So I've heard."

"In a fight," Mason said, "I try to damage my adversary in every way possible. I hit below the belt."

Mattern nodded.

"I'm representing a person," Mason said, "who is going to be accused of the murder of Albert Tidings."

"And you mean you'd try to pin it on me in order to get that person off?"

Mason struck a match to his cigarette, blew out the flame, and smiled affably at Mattern. "Exactly," he said.

"Do you mean to say you'd frame an innocent man…"

"Wait a moment, Carl," Mason interrupted, stopping him with an upraised hand. "Let's leave the innocent man out of it."

"But I am innocent."

"That," Mason said, "is nothing for me to decide. That's up to the jury."

"But you have no reason to believe I killed him."

Mason said, "Frankly, Carl, I don't think you did."

"Then why are you accusing me of it?"

"I'm not accusing you of it," Mason said. "I'm simply telling you that you knew he was dead prior to Tuesday noon, that you covered up that death, and then started getting yourself an alibi. But you'll find a jury isn't going to be as charitable as I am."

"You must be crazy!"

Mason said, "I'm willing to believe that you're not a murderer, that you shrewdly manipulated things so you could close the sale of that Western Prospecting stock. When you found Tidings was dead, you realized you had to keep his death covered up until you could put through that deal. But what you overlooked, Carl, was that once you started tampering with the facts, a jury would conclude you were guilty of murder."

Mattern blinked his eyes rapidly. "They couldn't," he said.

"Oh, yes, they could, Carl. Let's suppose, for instance, that you had reason to believe Tidings was going to be at that bungalow on Tuesday morning. Suppose you went out with a brief case filled with mail and documents to get instructions, and suppose you found Tidings lying dead on the bed. You slipped quietly out of the house without anyone seeing you. You knew that the news of his death would put a stop to that stock deal, and so you decided to have it appear that he had died shortly after noon on Tuesday. Fortunately, my telephone call gave you an opportunity for a second string to your bow. I had never heard the voice of Albert Tidings. By a bit of vocal manipulation you were able to leave me with the impression that I had talked with Tidings over me telephone.

"You're a very clever young man, Mattern, but you must give me credit for knowing something about the psychology of a juror. I'm telling you, Mattern, plainly and frankly, that a jury probably would convict you of Tidings' murder purely on circumstantial evidence once that chain of facts had been brought to light. The jury would consider that you'd killed him on Tuesday morning… And that would coincide with the findings of the autopsy surgeons."

Mason devoted his attention to watching the smoke drift up from one end of his cigarette, seeming to dismiss Mattern entirely from his mind.

After a few seconds, Mattern said, "But those things can't be proven."

Mason smiled. "Oh, yes, they can," he said. "I can prove them."

"You can?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Mason smiled and said, "I'm not going to disclose my entire hand, Mattern, but remember that you were a bit greedy and a little hasty. Realizing that the stock transaction might be open to question, you were just a little too anxious to get your split from Bolus. Peculiar chap, that Bolus. Rather selfish, I would say. Once the authorities accused him of being your accomplice in the murder, he'd move heaven and earth to show that he was your accomplice only on the stock jobbing deal, and that you alone were responsible for Tidings' death."

Mattern shifted his position uncomfortably in the chair.

Mason said, "Thought I'd let you know where I stood, Mattern, that's all. I wanted to be absolutely fair."

"What do you want me to do?" Mattern asked.

"Nothing," Mason said, in some surprise. "Nothing at all. But I just wanted you to know that when it comes time for me to defend my client, I'll be able to make out a pretty good case against you."