The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece (12 page)

Mason nodded. "Tell him I'll come right down."

Placing the carving knife on the desk so that the sharp edge was uppermost, Mason said to Della Street, "Bring in Edna Hammer and let's explain this thing to her before I start for the jail."

Della stepped to the door of the law library. While Perry Mason was carefully polishing all fingerprints from the handle of the knife with his handkerchief, Edna Hammer entered the room. "Why," she exclaimed, looking at the knife on the desk, "that is the same knife."

"Well," Mason told her, "there doesn't seem to be any identifying mark on either of the knives."

"What do you want me to do with this?"

He wiped off the blade on his handkerchief, inspected it critically, and rolled it up in the brown paper which had covered it when Peasley had brought it in. "Be careful not to leave any fingerprints on it," he said. "Put it in the sideboard drawer. Telephone Sergeant Holcomb and tell him that I'm going to be there at eight o'clock in the morning. And, remember, my dear, I am going to be there at eight o'clock in the morning, and I want you to let me in.

"And I'm to lock the drawer?"

"Yes. Don't let anyone know it's in the drawer, lock the drawer and keep it locked." As she reached for the paper parcel, he said, quite casually, "Why did you think your uncle was going to kill you, Edna?"

She recoiled as though he had struck at her. "What are you talking about?"

Mason took a quick step toward her. "You know what I'm talking about, Edna. You knew your uncle was walking in his sleep more than thirty days ago. You thought he was going to kill you."

"That's not so! That's false!"

"Then why," he demanded, "did you put that spring lock on the door of your bedroom?" She gave a little gasp, stared at him with frightened eyes. "Go on," he said, "tell me the truth."

"I… I…"

"You had a good enough lock on that bedroom door," he said, "but you were afraid your uncle had a key to it and you wanted a lock that he didn't have a key to, so you got a locksmith to install one of the most expensive locks money could buy, and you held the only key to it. Is that right?"

"No… that is… no."

"Then why did you put that lock on your door?" She stepped back away from him, dropped into a chair and started to cry. Mason said, "Go on, cry all you want to. When you've stopped crying, answer my question."

She raised eyes that were swimming with tears. "Why do you want to know about that lock?" she asked.

"Because," he said, "that's just the way the district attorney was planning to surprise you. He was going to jab his finger at you on the witness stand and make you act in front of a jury just the same way you're acting here. You can see what that would do to your uncle's case. It would make a jury think your uncle was a murderer at heart. Even if they thought he'd been sleepwalking, they'd convict him anyway."

"But – but that isn't the reason."

Mason stared steadily at her. "All right, then, what's the reason?"

"Jerry and I were married secretly a month ago," she said, eyes lowered.

Mason heaved a sigh. "Thank God for small favors," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I was afraid you'd put that lock on because you'd known your uncle was walking around the house and were afraid of him."

"No. Honestly, Mr. Mason, that had nothing to do with it."

"Why didn't you announce your marriage?"

"We wanted to keep it secret."

"Does your uncle know?"

"No. He's the one we wanted to keep it from."

"Why?"

"He's a little eccentric."

"He approves of Jerry, doesn't he?"

"Very much. But I didn't want him to think I was going to leave him until after he'd married again."

"Well, then," Mason asked, watching her quizzically, "why all the haste?"

"Because," she said, laughing, "I'm in love and this is Hollywood, and Jerry is pretty much of a sheik. Lots of women are crazy about him. By nature he's fickle, and… Well, I just wanted to grab him while the grabbing was good."

Mason grinned and said, "Well, just so you didn't put that lock on the door because of your uncle's sleepwalking, I don't care why you did it. But when I saw that lock I figured the explanation for it was more sinister than romantic, and I figured the district attorney was going to bust you wide open on cross-examination… I suppose you have a key and Jerry has a key." She nodded. "And there are no other keys?"

She smiled and shook her head. "After all," she said, "I have only one husband."

"Anyone else in your confidence; anyone else know that you are married?"

"Not a soul."

"Okay," Perry Mason said, "take that carving knife, plant it in the drawer and, if the district attorney starts examining you about that lock on the door when you get on the witness stand or in front of the grand jury, show a little emotion just like you did with me, and then tell the truth and laugh and cry when you tell it, and make it plenty romantic." Mason nodded to Della Street, clamped his hat on his head and said, "I'm going down to the jail."

Holcomb said, "Yes – meaning that it's rather early and that I'm on the job. What did you want?"

"I wanted to look over the premises," Mason said. "I had a couple of questions to ask of some of the witnesses. Any objections?"

"The witnesses are under subpoena for the Prosecution," Holcomb said; "you can't tamper with them."

"I don't want to tamper with them, I want to talk with them."

Holcomb held the door open, said, "If that's the case, come right in. I'll just stick around to avoid misunderstandings."

Edna Hammer came forward and gave Mason her hand. "Good morning, Mr. Mason, is there anything I can do for you?" Mason nodded.

"She's a witness for the People," Holcomb pointed out.

Mason whirled to face the officer. "Because the district attorney serves a subpoena on a person doesn't mean that person becomes sacred," he said. "The duty of a witness is to tell the truth. When the case is set down for trial, I'll subpoena a few of these witnesses myself. It just happens, Sergeant, that I am going to talk with Miss Hammer in private."

Holcomb said, "You can't tell her what to testify to."

"And you can't tell me a damn thing!" Mason said.

He took Edna's arm, "I think we'll talk in your room, Edna." They walked down the corridor, Holcomb headed for the telephone. "What's he going to do?" she asked.

"Call the district attorney," Mason said, grinning. "How long has he been here?"

"Since seven-thirty."

"You called him?"

"Yes. I shouldn't be too friendly with you, should I?" she asked. "We don't want it to look like a frame-up." Mason nodded, said, "You planted the knife okay?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"About eleven o'clock."

"And locked the drawer?"

"Yes."

"Where's the key?"

"I have it."

"You're sure it's the only key?"

"Why, of course."

"How long have you been locking that drawer?"

"Since the other day when I found the knife."

"How do you know you have the only key?"

"Because the key was kept in the drawer. I took it out and used it to lock the drawer with. There was only one key."

"And the drawer wasn't ever locked during the daytime?"

"No."

"But you're sure it was kept locked all last night?"

"Yes, of course. You told me to lock it."

"No one saw you?"

"No one."

"And you didn't have occasion to unlock it later on?"

"No. Of course not. What makes you ask that?"

"I thought perhaps the butler might have wanted something in there."

"Why, no. It was late. He'd gone to bed."

"Okay," Mason told her. "Now wait until Holcomb leaves the telephone, then draw back from me a little and call to him. Tell him you'd prefer to have him present at any interview you give me, so you won't get into any trouble. Make a nice build-up. Think you could do that so it will be convincing?"

"Oh, I'd love to. I like to act a part like that."

"Go ahead," he told her.

She waited a few minutes until Sergeant Holcomb returned from the telephone to glower at them in angry futility. Abruptly Edna Hammer swung away from Perry Mason, took two swift backward steps, stopped and stared at him, as though puzzled. Mason moved toward her. She retreated a step as he advanced, then turned, impulsively, and called to Sergeant Holcomb. "Sergeant, may I talk with you a moment?" The eager alacrity of Holcomb's pounding heels as he strode forward was sufficient answer. When he had joined them, she said, "Mr. Mason thinks it's all right to talk to me but you seem to think it isn't. Wouldn't it be better, if you listened in?"

"He has no right to be present," Mason said angrily. "I have a right to question you as I want to, and he can keep out of it."

"But he seems to think he should be where he can hear what you say."

"What he thinks doesn't have a damn thing to do with it," Mason retorted. "You want to cooperate with me, don't you? Don't you love your uncle?"

"Yes, but I don't know what to do."

"Follow my advice," he said.

Sergeant Holcomb stood close to her side. "If you wish me to be present," he said, "no power on earth can keep me away. You've very properly indicated that this is what you want. Therefore, don't pay any attention to what he says. You're absolutely right."

She smiled coyly at Mason. "Really, Mr. Mason, I think it would be better this way. After all, you haven't anything to say to me that you wouldn't want Sergeant Holcomb to hear, have you?"

Mason said, "It isn't that, it's the principle of the thing."

"But, if it's all right for him to hear what you have to say, why not go ahead and say it?" Her eyes were wide, her voice ingenuous in its innocence. Sergeant Holcomb snickered.

Mason said savagely, "All right, I want to find out about that sideboard drawer and where you kept the key to it."

"I kept it on an elastic band around my wrist."

"Why didn't you put it in your purse or some other place?"

"Because I was afraid I might forget to unlock the drawer in the morning and that might cause some comment. As a matter of fact, I did forget to unlock the drawer but that was because the excitement upset me. You see, I took the key off when I took a shower. What I intended to do was to open the drawer just as soon as I wakened in the morning."

"So," Sergeant Holcomb said triumphantly, "it was an absolute impossibility for anyone to have taken the knife from that drawer after you went to bed, unless that person had another key or had picked the lock."

She nodded. "That," Mason said, "presupposes that the knife was in the drawer when you locked it."

"If it wasn't," Holcomb said, "it means Kent slipped it out before he went to sleep. So that doesn't mean any skin off of my nose one way or another."

"I'd like to see the key," Mason said.

She opened a purse, took from it a large key of peculiar design.

"You're carrying that key around with you?" Mason asked.

"Yes, I thought it would be better."

"But the drawer isn't locked now?"

"Oh, yes, it is. I locked it last night."

"Why?"

"I don't know, just nervousness, I guess. The thought of someone wandering around makes me… perhaps I hadn't better say anything more."

"Let's take a look at the lock," Mason suggested.

"If it'll set your mind at rest," Sergeant Holcomb remarked, "the police have anticipated your line of reasoning. We've had the lock examined by an expert locksmith. It shows no evidences of having been picked. There are no scratches on the ornamental key-plate, indicating that any sharp instruments have been inserted. There are no marks on the wood to indicate that the metal latch has been pushed back."

Mason shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, I'll take a look anyway."

The three of them went to the sideboard. Mason examined the lock carefully, dropped to one knee to gaze at the upper edge of the drawer.

"Open it, please," he said; "I want to examine the inside."

Sergeant Holcomb stood with his hands thrust into his trousers pockets, his face wearing a smile of patronizing superiority. Edna Hammer fitted the key to the lock, clicked back the metal catch and opened the drawer. Mason, watching Sergeant Holcomb's face, saw that the detective didn't change his expression by so much as the twisting of a muscle, but Edna Hammer gave a little gasp. The open drawer disclosed a plush-lined receptacle for a fork and a knife. There was only the fork in the recessed receptacles. Mason bent forward as though to make a close inspection and Sergeant Holcomb leaned forward so that he might peer more closely, watching lest Mason should plant some clew. Edna Hammer's fingers clutched Mason's arm, clung to it frantically. "You looked in the drawer when you locked it last night?" Mason asked her making his voice sound casual.

She nodded her head. Her eyes were wide with astonishment.

"Well," Mason said, "I guess that's all I need right here. Now, I'd like to talk with some of the other witnesses."

"Who, for instance?"

"Duncan and Maddox."

"They're subpoenaed to appear before the Grand Jury later on this morning."

"That's one of the reasons I want to talk with them."

"You can't talk with them unless they want to talk with you."

"Naturally. I'll ask them if they'll…"

Sergeant Holcomb said, "I'll ask them if they want to talk with you. If they do, all right. If they don't, you can't talk with them." He strode toward the left wing of the house.

Mason gripped Edna's shoulder, whirled her around to face him. "Didn't you plant it?" he asked, his voice savage in its impatience.

"Yes."

"Do you mean to say it was there when you locked the drawer last night?"

"Yes."

"Who saw you put it there?"

"No one."

"But someone must have taken it." She nodded dazed acquiescence. "Someone who knew the trick I was planning to play and decided to checkmate me on it."

"But who could have done that?"

"Besides yourself," he told her, "there were only two people who knew anything about that knife, unless, perhaps, you told someone."

"On my honor, Mr. Mason, I didn't tell a soul."

"Did anyone see you put the knife in there?"

"I'm certain they didn't."

"Where did you have the key last night?"

"I hid it."

"Where?"

"In the toe of an old shoe. I was afraid that… that something might go wrong, and I knew how much it meant to you. I…" she broke off as Sergeant Holcomb came striding into the room and said triumphantly, "Neither one of the witnesses cares to make any statement to you, Mr. Mason."

Mason sucked in a quick breath, as though about to make some retort, then shrugged his shoulders, said, "Very well," and stalked from the house, banging the front door behind him. He ran lightly down the cement walk, jumped into his car and sent it racing through the gears as he headed toward his office. He stopped at a drugstore, however, to telephone Drake's office. "When Drake comes in," he told the girl who answered the telephone, "have him send an operative out to search Kent's residence for a carving knife that's a duplicate of the one with which the murder was committed. Have the operative go through the place with a fine-toothed comb until he finds it. And he might start by looking under the top of that coffee table in the patio."

Della Street raised her eyebrows inquiringly as Mason hung up hat and coat in the closet. "Well?" she asked.

Mason said, "Mrs. Doris Sully Kent has tied up Kent's bank account."

"What do you mean?"

"She had a restraining order issued late yesterday afternoon, preventing him from disposing of any of the property. She's made an application to have a receiver appointed. The restraining order is effective until a hearing can be had on the receivership."

"But that… why, Chief, that would even keep him from paying you an attorney's fee." He nodded. "And he can't pay Paul Drake for detective service?" He shook his head. "And suppose a receiver is appointed, what then?"

Mason said, "It depends on who the receiver is and how the Judge happens to look at things."

"But Mr. Kent has lots of business interests. How can she tie them all up?"

"She's claimed that he threatens to dissipate his property, make fraudulent transfers and a few other things. She found a judge who was willing to listen to her."

"You mean he was willing to look at a stare of baby innocence!" Della Street retorted indignantly.

"You mustn't be unjust," Mason grinned. "Remember, she's only a helpless woman, who wants to do what's right. She states in her action that the alimony granted her in the divorce case shouldn't be continued because the whole divorce was a fraud on her and on the court. So she alleges in her complaint that she wants to have the fifteen hundred dollars a month discontinued."

"In other words, she wants to take all of Kent's property instead of just part," Della Street exclaimed. Mason grinned. "How can she get an injunction without putting up a big bond?"

"Our Code Section. Look it up sometime. Section 529 provides that there's no necessity for a bond whenever a court grants an injunction against a spouse in an action for divorce or separate maintenance."

"Then she can come into court and make any sort of perjured allegations she wants to and make it look as though she were really an injured party, and, when the judge tries the case and finds she hasn't got a leg to stand on, Mr. Kent can't do a thing about it?"