The Case of the Baited Hook (18 page)

Mattern laughed and said, "I can't see what you're getting at, Mr. Mason. By telling me this in advance, you've put yourself entirely in my power. Suppose I should relate this conversation to a jury?"

"No need for you to bother," Mason said. "I'll tell them about it myself. Remember, Mattern, I dropped in to tell you that I had reason to believe you knew Tidings was dead Tuesday morning before that stock transaction was concluded. Among other things, I wanted to hear your voice so I could convince myself that it was you who were talking with me over the telephone Tuesday morning. I'm convinced now."

"A jury wouldn't take your evidence very seriously."

"Perhaps not," Mason said. "It would be your word against mine."

"And you're interested in saving your client's neck," Mattern said.

"Just as you're interested in saving your own," Mason reminded him.

"Mine isn't in any danger."

"And," Mason went on, "you'll also remember that one of the reasons for this visit was to ask you if you had any financial interest in that stock sale of the Western Prospecting Company."

"And I assured you that I didn't," Mattern said.

Mason arose, stretched, yawned, and said casually, "Know Colonel Gilliland?"

"No," Mattern said.

"In charge of the income tax evasions detail here," Mason said. "Charming chap. You'll probably get acquainted with him later on."

There was anxiety in Mattern's eyes. "Friend of mine," Mason went on. "You know, the government has quite a system. If anyone gives 'em a tip on an income tax evasion, the government will investigate, and if they recover a tax on the strength of that tip, they'll pay a reward amounting to a percentage of the tax. You can't fool the government, you know. They can examine the records of banks and the books of corporations… Well, I'll be running along, Mattern."

Mattern said, "Hey, wait a minute. You aren't going to tell this man Gilliland anything about me?"

"Why not?" Mason asked.

"Because- Well, because under the circumstances that would be the hell of a thing to do."

"Why?"

"Haven't I co – operated with you?"

Mason said, "It's all right, Mattern. There's nothing to worry about. If you didn't get any cut out of that fifty thousand, no one can do a thing to you. Of course, Gilliland will go into the books of the Western Prospecting Company, will scrutinize Bolus' income tax statement, check the bank records, look into your bank deposits, and work on a few other angles. He'll make a good job of it."

Mattern said, "Come back here. Mason. Sit down."

Mason raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Mattern said, "You've got me."

"Got you?" Mason asked. "What do you mean?"

"I got ten grand out of that sale," Mattern blurted.

"That's better," Mason observed, walking over to a chair and seating himself. "Tell me about it."

"There's nothing much to tell," Mattern said meekly. "I felt like a heel all the time, but I needed the money. I just had to have it."

"Why?" Mason asked.

"Oh, some bum hunches on horses," Mattern said.

"Did Bolus get in touch with you?"

"No. I got in touch with him. I knew something about the stock. I put the proposition up to him. I was to interest Tidings as trustee in the stock, and get a fifty per cent cut… And it's really a good stock at that, Mr. Mason, a very good speculative buy."

"But you didn't get fifty per cent?" Mason asked.

"No," Mattern said bitterly. "Bolus, the damn crook, chiseled me. After I'd brought the parties together and got the deal so far under way that I couldn't have backed out of it without making everyone suspicious. Bolus told me he'd been under more expense than he'd figured, that he'd have to give some banker a cut, and that I'd have to take ten thousand instead of twenty – five."

"Why give the banker a cut?" Mason asked.

"Some banker that Tidings had asked for a report on the stock developed an itching palm. Anyhow, that's what Bolus said."

"All right," Mason said. "Go ahead. Tell me how you knew Tidings was dead?"

"I tell you I didn't know it."

"Bunk," Mason said.

"Honestly, Mr. Mason, everything else is just as I told you.".

Mason said, "Mattern, I'm getting damn tired of your lies… Know what I think I'll do? I think I'll go down to the D.A and give him a tip on you."

"You've got nothing on me," Mattern said.

"No?" Mason asked with a cold smile.

"Absolutely not."

"In the first place," Mason said, "you needed that ten grand because you'd made a mistake in picking ponies. Is that right?"

"Yes. What of it? Lots of people play the races."

"Uh huh," Mason said. "But you need money in order to play the races."

"Well, I got the money, didn't I?"

"After you'd incurred the losses," Mason said. "My best guess, Mattern, is that the original bets were made from money you'd embezzled from Tidings and the trust accounts. The audit of Tidings' books would have left you in quite a spot if it hadn't been for that ten grand."

Mason needed no more than a look at Mattern's dismayed countenance to serve as confirmation of his charge.

"All right," he said. "There you are. You've been embezzling money. Tidings called you on Tuesday morning. He had the dope. He was going to send you to jail. You knew that if you could stall things along for a few hours, that Western Prospecting sale would go through, and you'd have money enough to make restitution. You figured you could juggle the books so that the original embezzlement could be covered. You got desperate and excited and pulled a gun on Tidings. Tidings came for you, and you pulled the trigger."

"That's a lie," Mattern shouted.

"Perhaps it is," Mason observed, "but you'd never make a jury believe it."

"No jury could ever find me guilty of murder. There isn't a shred of evidence."

Mason smiled. "Thanks a lot, Mattern. You've given me a perfect out. I don't need to worry about my client. You're the fall guy. Good night."

Once more Mason arose from his chair.

"Listen," Mattern said desperately. "I'll give you the real low – down, Mr. Mason. I'll tell you how it was. Honestly, I didn't kill him. He'd been dead for a long time when I saw him."

"When was that?"

"About eight – thirty Tuesday morning."

"Where?"

"Right where he was lying. Right on the bed where the body was found."

"What happened?" Mason asked.

Mattern said, "Tidings was trying to get something on his wife. He told me that she was mixed up with some man who had to keep in the background because of what might happen in a divorce action. Tidings said he'd found out about this man and that he was going out to see his wife and call for a showdown. There were some important papers he had to go over, and he promised to be at the office at seven – thirty Tuesday morning to sign them.

"When he hadn't shown up at the office at eight o'clock, I put the papers in a brief case, and drove out to his wife's house. I thought that perhaps they'd effected a reconciliation. He really was crazy about her. The door was unlocked. I went in. There were bloodstains on the floor. I followed the bloodstains to the bedroom… You know what I found."

"What did you do?" Mason asked.

"I beat it," Mattern said. "I was scared stiff. I figured that with his death, his books would be gone over, my embezzlement discovered, and that I'd go to jail. I was good and sore. If he'd only lived a few hours more, I'd have been in the clear… So then I figured that it might be a long while before anyone would find the body, and I might be able to stall things along so I could get that Western Prospecting deal through. I knew that the cashier's check was all made out payable to the brokers… Well, you know the rest."

"And that was you who talked with me over the telephone that morning?"

"Yes. When you rang up and wanted to talk with Tidings, I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to say he wasn't in the office… And then I got the idea that saved me from making any admissions. I knew you hadn't heard Tidings' voice. I have a little ability when it comes to controlling my voice. I've done a bit of work in amateur theatricals."

Mason said, "Well, Mattern, you know where this leaves you."

"Where does it leave me?"

Mason said, "You're a pushover for the D.A."

"But I'm innocent. Surely you must believe me."

Mason studied him thoughtfully. "Better start helping me look for the real murderer, Mattern. That's your only out."

Mattern impulsively shot out his hand. "You're a square shooter," he said "I'll do that, Mr. Mason. You can count on me for anything."

The two men shook hands.

10

A TELEGRAM WAS LYING on MASON'S DESK WHEN HE entered the office Friday morning, and Della Street informed him that Mrs. Tump was impatiently awaiting his arrival in the outer office.

Mason opened the telegram. It was signed Adelle Hastings, and read:

HAVE CONTACTED PARTY REFERRED TO. NO CAUSE FOR CONCERN OVER ANY DEVELOPMENTS TO DATE. GO RIGHT AHEAD. EVERYTHING OKAY.

Mason thrust the telegram in his pocket, and said to Della Street "All right. Let's see what Mrs. Tump wants, and get her out of the way."

Della Street ushered Mrs. Tump into the inner office. The woman's grayish – green eyes glittered as she came sailing across the office. Only her lips were smiling.

"Good morning, Mr. Mason," she said.

"How are you this morning, Mrs. Tump?"

"Very well, thank you. What have you found out?"

"Not a great deal," Mason admitted, "but I'm making progress."

"What about that fifty – thousand – dollar stock sale, Mr. Mason?"

Mason said, "I'm going to set that aside."

"Is the stock worth anything?"

Mason indicated a chair, gave Mrs. Tump a cigarette, took one himself, lit up, and said, "That stock which was delivered to Loftus & Cale represented the private holdings of the president of the company. That should answer your question. I'm going to set the transaction aside on the ground that Tidings was dead before the check was delivered for the stock."

She studied him with her glittering, hard eyes. "You can do that?"

"Yes."

"How are you going to prove it?"

"For one thing," Mason said, "I can prove it by the testimony of the autopsy surgeon-I hope."

Mrs. Tump said, "Mr. Mason, I want to talk with you frankly."

"Go ahead."

"I'm not one to mince words."

"Let's have them unminced then," Mason said with a smile.

She said, "Very well, Mr. Mason. When I wanted you to handle Byrl's case, you began stalling for time."

Mason raised his eyebrows in silent interrogation. "Now, of course, Mr. Mason, when we first came to you, you had no way of knowing that Mr. Tidings was dead."

"Correct," Mason said.

"Now, as I understand it, if you can prove that Mr. Tidings died somewhere before eleven o'clock on Tuesday morning, it will enable Byrl to get fifty thousand dollars back into the trust fund."

"Correct."

"Who will pay that fifty thousand?"

"We'll proceed against Loftus & Cale," Mason said. 'They'll have to try and get the money back from Bolus. Because I warned them of what they could expect, they're taking steps to impound the money."

"That's very clever of you, Mr. Mason." 'Thank you."

"Mr. Mason, are you representing Adelle Hastings?'

Mason said, cautiously, "In what connection, Mrs. Tump?"

"In any connection."

"A lawyer has to keep the affairs of his client confidential."

Mrs. Tump said, "You know what I mean. If she should be accused of murdering Tidings, would you be her lawyer?"

Mason studied his cigarette thoughtfully. "That would be hard to say."

"Very well," Mrs. Tump said. "I just want to say one thing, and then I'm through, Mr. Mason. Personally, I think Adelle Hastings is a snob, an arrogant, insulting little snob. She's done a lot to make things disagreeable for Byrl. I hate her because of that. But I know she isn't one who would commit murder. I'll say that for her- although I still hate her.

"Now then, Mr. Mason, suppose she's accused of that murder. She might depend upon an alibi, and she might want to prove that Tidings died after twelve o'clock Tuesday in order to make her alibi good. Now then, if you tried to help her do that, you'd be working directly against Byrl's interests because we want to show that Tidings died before eleven o'clock… You understand me, Mr. Mason?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Tump got to her feet. "Very well, Mr. Mason," she said. "I just wanted to know where you stood. I'm never one to mince words. I don't care whom you represent, but there's one thing on which there must be no misunderstanding: Albert Tidings met his death before that stock deal went through… Good morning, Mr. Mason."

Mason glanced across at Della Street as the door closed behind Mrs. Tump. That," he said, "is that… Get your hat and coat, Della. Bring along a notebook. We're going to call on the woman who holds the other part of that ten – thousand – dollar bill."

"You know who she is?" Della Street asked in surprise.

"I do now," Mason said grimly, "-just about three days too late."

"How did you discover her?"

"By a little head work," Mason said. "And I should have known a lot sooner. Come on. Let's go."

They drove in Mason's car out through the city, swinging to the northward away from the through boulevard.

"Mrs. Tidings?" Della Street asked, as they started climbing up a twisting road. Mason nodded. "But she was in Reno. She left Monday. She couldn't have been at your office Monday night."

Mason said patiently, "She's the only one who's tried to make her alibi stretch back of Monday night. All the others presented alibis for Tuesday afternoon."

"Well?" Della Street asked.

"Well," Mason said. "The answer is obvious. She's the only one who knew that he was killed Monday night. She couldn't look ahead into the future, and know that Mattern would try to protect his ten thousand dollars by having Tidings alive on Tuesday morning."

"That's all the evidence you have to go on, Chief?" Della Street asked.

"It's enough," Mason said grimly. "The minute she told me about leaving for Reno on Monday noon and driving all night, I should have known."

"And she's the masked woman?"

"Yes."

"Do you suppose she'll deny it?"

"Not now," Mason said. "I'm only hoping that I can get there before Holcomb figures it out."

"You think he'll figure it out?"

"Yes."

They drove in silence up the winding road. The house in which the body of Albert Tidings had been found glistened white and clean in the sunlight, giving no evidence of the sinister background of gruesome murder which had attached itself to the cozy bungalow.

"Well," Mason said, "here we go." He opened the car door, slid out to the pavement, and he and Della Street walked up the short space of cement which stretched from the porch to the street.

Mason pressed his thumb against the bell button. Almost instantly the door was opened by Mrs. Tidings who was dressed for the street. "Why, good morning, Mr. Mason," she said. "I thought I recognized you when you got out of the car."

"Miss Street, Mrs. Tidings," Mason introduced perfunctorily.

"How do you do?" Mrs. Tidings said to Della Street. "Won't you come in?"

They entered the house, and Mrs. Tidings indicated chairs. "Cigarette?" she asked Della Street, opening a humidor.

"Thank you," Della said, taking one.

"I have one of my own," Mason said, taking his cigarette case from his pocket.

Mrs. Tidings said, "Things are at sixes and sevens with me. I think you understand how it is. They're having the funeral this afternoon. It was delayed while the experts were trying to uncover some clue which would point to the murderer… You don't know what progress they've made, do you, Mr. Mason?"

"If they're releasing the body this afternoon," Mason said, "it's certain that they've completed their tests."

"Yes. I surmised as much, but I don't know what they've found."

"They haven't told you?"

"Not a word."

"Of course," Mrs. Tidings repeated, "I'm upset. We'd separated, but it was a shock to me… I hated him."

Mason said, "I appreciate your position, Mrs. Tidings. By the way, I came to get the other half of that ten – thousand – dollar bill."

"Why, Mr. Mason, what do you mean?"

Mason looked at his wrist watch. "Minutes may mean me difference between a good defense and a verdict of first – degree murder. If you want to waste time arguing about it, go ahead. It's your funeral… And I don't mean the remark figuratively."

"You seem rather certain of your ground, Mr. Mason."

"I am. When you and Peltham came to my office, I noticed two things. The first was that Peltham had laid careful plans to get in touch with me at any hour of the day or night, just in case he ever wanted a lawyer. The second was that a lot of things in connection with your visit showed extreme haste and lack of preparation: the fact, for instance, that Peltham gave me a fictitious name which wasn't listed in the telephone directory. Also there was your mask."

She kept her eyes veiled. "What about the mask?"

"It was a black mask with a silver tinsel trimming," Mason said. "It had been part of a masquerade costume, something which had been stored away as a souvenir."

"I don't see what that proves," she said.

"Simply this," Mason said. "Peltham had made careful preparations to see me in case something happened. When that something did happen, he had to act fast. He decided to protect you by keeping your identity a secret even from me. That meant a mask. Now people don't just carry masks around with them, and you don't find them hanging on lamp posts late at night. But you had one, probably tucked away in some bureau drawer, at home. That means that whatever happened that made it imperative for the woman Peltham was protecting to see me, happened right in her home or reasonably close. I should have known the answer the minute I discovered Tidings' body here."

She looked at him for a moment in silence, studying the granite – hard lines of his face. Then, without a word, she opened her purse, took out a small envelope, tore it open, and from that envelope extracted the other portion of the ten – thousand – dollar bill which she handed to Mr. Mason.

There was some surprise on Della Street's face, but Mason didn't so much as flicker an eyelash.

"When did you know he was dead?"

"Why, when I returned from Reno, of course."

Mason said nothing, but once more looked at his wrist watch, an eloquent reminder of the passing of time.

She said, "Honestly, Mr. Mason, I'm telling the truth."

Mason said, "You were in love with Peltham. He wanted to protect you. You came to my office shortly after midnight. You did everything possible to keep me from learning your real identity as well as the nature of the case on which I was to be employed. You subsequently claimed that you had left for Reno late Monday afternoon. Apparently, you were actually in Reno Tuesday morning.

"Considering all of those various circumstances in their proper light, it means that the body of Albert Tidings was lying right here, in that bedroom, at the very moment you were calling on me at my office… Now then, did you kill him or did Peltham?"

"Neither."

"But you knew he was dead?"

She hesitated for several seconds, then said, almost inaudibly, "Yes."

"And you were the ones who put him into that room and on that bed?"

"Yes."

"Who killed him?"

"Honestly, Mr. Mason, I don't know."

"Better tell me what you do know," Mason said.

She said, "I'm going to be frank with you, Mr. Mason."

"Do," Mason said, and then added significantly, "for a change."

She said, "I wanted a divorce. I am very much in love with Bob. Bob had reason to believe that Albert was dipping into the Hastings Memorial Trust Fund. He was working with Adelle Hastings, trying to straighten things out. He wanted her to demand an audit of the books. Under the circumstances, if my attachment for Robert had been discovered, it would have made very serious complications all around. You can understand that, Mr. Mason."

Mason said tonelessly, "I can understand that."