Read The Case of the Sulky Girl Online

Authors: Erle Stanley Gardner

Tags: #Fiction, #Crime, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Legal, #Mason; Perry (Fictitious character)

The Case of the Sulky Girl (8 page)

"What do you mean?" asked Judge Purley with sudden interest.

"If," said Perry Mason, "the murder was committed by the time your car had arrived at the top of the hill, and if during that time Norton had summoned the chauffeur, and there had been a quarrel, the quarrel would, of necessity, have been of long standing."

"That doesn't follow at all," Judge Purley said. "The quarrel could have started right then. In fact, it isn't reasonable to suppose that Norton would have retained Devoe in his service if there had been a previous quarrel between them."

Perry Mason's eyes glinted.

"Then," he said, "you must agree that there wasn't opportunity for a great deal of premeditation."

Judge Purley regarded him quizzically.

"Just what are you leading up to?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Perry Mason noncommittally.

"In the eyes of the law," said Judge Purley, as though he were pronouncing some judgment, "there is no particular time required for premeditation. An instant's premeditation is all that is necessary to make a crime first degree murder."

"All right," said Perry Mason. "Now, let's look at the case from another angle. As I understand it, one of the windows had been jimmied open, and there were the marks of footprints under the window. These things tended to indicate that a burglar had entered the place."

"All a frame-up," said Judge Purley. "The police have demonstrated that."

"Precisely," said Perry Mason. "But it took some time to plant these clews. Now, the point I am getting at is that there is nothing in the evidence to show whether they were done before the murder, or afterwards. The police have been inclined to the theory that they were done afterwards. But it is barely possible they were done before."

Judge Purley looked at him through the blue haze of his cigar smoke, with a forehead that was washboarded in thought.

"In that case," he said, "the fact that Norton sent for the chauffeur would have had nothing to do with it. The chauffeur would have been waiting our departure, in order to enter Norton's study."

"Now," said Perry Mason, nodding his head, "you're commencing to get to the meat of the situation."

Judge Purley studied the tip of his cigar.

Perry Mason said, in a low tone of voice: "You were in the room where the crime was committed, Judge?"

"Yes. The police allowed me to look through the place. Because of my position, they gave me every liberty."

"Then," said Perry Mason, "if it's a fair question, did you notice anything unusual?"

Judge Purley acted as though the question had given him a great deal of satisfaction. He settled back in his chair, and spoke in slow, deliberate tones, gesturing once in a while with the tip of his cigar.

"The man had been struck from behind," he said, "apparently while he was seated at his desk. He had fallen forward across the desk, and had never moved after the blow crushed in his head. The telephone instrument was at his left hand. There were some papers on the desk, an envelope, I think, and a blank sheet of paper, and an insurance policy for the stolen automobile."

"Ah," said Perry Mason, in a voice that was purring. "The stolen car was insured then?"

"Of course it was insured," said Judge Purley. "Naturally, it would be."

"Are you certain the policy was for the stolen car?" asked Mason.

"Yes," said Judge Purley. "I checked it, and the police checked it. The policy covered a Buick sedan numbered 6754093. It was a policy of full coverage."

"Did you," asked Perry Mason, "know Edward Norton in his lifetime, Judge?"

"No, I had never met him. I am quite well acquainted with Mr. Crinston, Mr. Norton's business partner, and Mr. Crinston has spoken to me so often about Mr. Norton and his peculiarities that I feel as though I had known him personally. But I had never met him. Mr. Norton was a bit difficult to approach, and I had never had any business dealings which would have caused me to make his acquaintance."

Perry Mason suddenly turned to face Judge Purley.

"Judge Purley," he said, "Edward Norton wasn't killed as the result of a quarrel."

Judge Purley shifted his eyes.

"You're referring again to the time element?" he said. "The fact that there wasn't time for a quarrel?"

"Partially," said Perry Mason. "Devoe wouldn't have had time to get to the room, have a quarrel with the man, and work himself up into the frenzy of rage necessary to result in murder. Furthermore, the clews which were planted, and were for the purpose of directing suspicion toward a couple of burglars, indicate the murderer knew the logical motive for the killing was that of robbery."

Judge Purley fidgeted uncomfortably. He seemed struggling with the desire to make a statement, and a reluctance to do so. Perry Mason watched him as a sailing hawk might study a sloping hillside.

"Well," said Judge Purley, at length, "I must say, counselor, that you have done a very nice bit of reasoning. I wasn't supposed to mention it, but inasmuch as you seem to know, there can be no harm in my confirming your suspicions, or perhaps I should say, your deductions."

"The motive, then," asked Perry Mason, "was robbery?"

"The motive was robbery," said Judge Purley.

"Money?" asked Mason.

"A very large sum of money. Mr. Norton had on his person at the time of his death, something over forty thousand dollars in currency. That money was in a wallet in his inside pocket. When the body was found, the pockets had been rifled and the wallet was gone. That is, it had been lifted from the inside pocket and lay near the body, empty."

"Were any of the other pockets disturbed?" asked Perry Mason.

"Yes. They had all been turned wrong side out," Judge Purley said.

"Have the police found any of the money?" asked the lawyer.

"That is something which probably won't come out until later, counselor," said Judge Purley. "But I don't mind telling you in confidence that they have. They found two one thousand dollar bills in Devoe's trouser pocket. Those bills can be identified by their numbers as being part of the currency which Norton had in his possession, and Devoe has made the mistake of stating, in his maudlin way, that he doesn't have any idea how the bills got there."

"Has it been brought out why Norton had such a large sum of cash in his possession?" Mason wanted to know.

Judge Purley started to speak, then checked himself.

"I think, counselor," he said, "that I have given you all of the information which I should give you. After all, your interest in this matter, while it is parallel with that of the police, is not, of course, identical. Much of the information which was given to me was given to me in confidence because of my judicial position, and I do not think that I should disseminate it carelessly."

There was a faint twinkle of amusement in the eyes of the attorney as he surveyed the ponderous form of the magistrate. Judge Purley radiated a sense of exaggerated self-importance.

"Of course, judge," said Perry Mason, "one must understand and respect your position. I didn't want you to think I was merely curious. I was trying to get a mental picture of what had happened. I am advised by the interested parties that I will be in charge of the estate, and, under those circumstances, I wanted to have complete information."

"That's true, of course," said Judge Purley, nodding his head, "and that's the reason that I gave you as much of the inside information as I did. You will, however, counselor, regard it as strictly confidential."

"Oh yes, of course," said Perry Mason, and there was just a trace of mockery in his voice, which caused the judge to took up quickly. But the face of the lawyer was bland and innocent.

CHAPTER NINE
SUN streamed in through the window of the room, and shone upon Edward Norton's massive desk.

A police representative sprawled in one of the chairs, a cigarette drooping from his lips, a pencil poised over a notebook. Don Graves, the efficient secretary of the dead man, checked off the documents.

The furniture in the room was in exactly the same position it had occupied the night of the murder. According to police orders, things were to be disturbed as little as possible.

Perry Mason, as the attorney representing the interested parties, was engaged in making a survey of the business affairs of the murdered man.

Don Graves, standing in front of the safe, turned to Perry Mason.

"This compartment of the safe, sir, contains all of the documents relating to the partnership business of Crinston & Norton."

"Very well," said Mason. "You're familiar with the details of those documents, I take it?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

"Generally, what is the financial state of the partnership?"

"The partnership had a few rather unfortunate investments, sir. There were some commitments which ran into rather a large deficit, amounting to something around million dollars. But, aside from that, the affairs were in good shape. There was, I believe, something like eight hundred thousand dollars on deposit in various banks. Would you like the exact figures?"

"You might give them to me," said Mason. "I want to get just a general idea of the financial set-up."

Graves took a book from the safe, opened it, and read off a column of figures.

"The account was in a little better shape than I thought, sir. There's a balance of eight hundred and seventy-six thousand, five hundred and forty-two dollars and thirty cents at the Seaboard Second National Trust Company, and two hundred and ninety-three thousand, nine hundred and four dollars and fifty cents in the Farmers and Merchants National.

"There are notes, representing the partnership loss which are held at the Wheeler's Trust and Savings Bank in an amount of nine hundred thousand dollars, with some interest due on them, I believe, and there's a deposit in that bank of seventy-five thousand dollars."

"How about the trust funds?" asked Mason. "The funds representing the trust in favor of Frances Celane?"

"Those are in excellent shape," said Graves. "There is over a million dollars in stocks, bonds, and securities. There's a list of them in this ledger. Mr. Norton was particularly careful about his trust obligations, and kept the account right up to date."

"Are there any liabilities in the trust account?" asked Mason.

"No, sir. There's not a dollar of indebtedness. The assets are all net."

"Then how about Mr. Norton's individual account; that is, outside the partnership of Crinston & Norton?"

"That's something that I can't tell you very much about," said the secretary. "Mr. Norton kept his private business in such shape that it required but little bookkeeping, and carried most of it in his head. Virtually all of the commercial transactions were in the partnership of Crinston & Norton. Mr. Norton's private affairs were confined to the purchase of gilt-edged stocks and bonds, which he kept in a safety deposit box."

"How about a will?" asked the lawyer.

"Yes, sir, there's a will. I don't know where it is. I think it's somewhere in the safe here. I understand generally it leaves everything to Miss Celane. Mr. Norton had no close relatives, you understand."

The police representative said casually, the words coming through an aura of cigarette smoke which seeped out from his mouth as he talked: "Pretty good thing for this Celane woman all around. She gets her trust account free and clear, and also gets a gob of money from the old man, himself."

Perry Mason made no reply to the comment, but continued to address Don Graves.

"Just where is the will?" he asked. "Can you find it?"

"Most of his personal papers were kept in this pigeon-hole in the safe," said Graves, indicating a pigeon-hole.

Perry Mason walked over to the safe, reached in the pigeon-hole, and pulled out a bundle of papers.

"Life insurance policy with the Prudential," he said. "Amount, five hundred thousand dollars. The beneficiary is the estate."

"Yes, sir," said the secretary.

"You'll find several life insurance policies in cash to the estate. Those were taken out in order to have sufficient ready cash in the estate to pay inheritance taxes without necessitating a sale of securities at a loss."

"Good idea," said the lawyer. "Here are some more policies. You can list those."

He pulled out a small pasteboard-backed notebook from underneath the policies.

"What's that?" asked the police representative.

Perry Mason turned it over slowly.

"Looks like a car register," he said, "of mileage."

Don Graves laughed.

"Yes," he said, "that's one of the things about Mr. Norton. He always wanted appointments kept to the minute; always carried watches that were adjusted to the second; always kept an account of every mile that was traveled by one of his automobiles. He wanted to know exactly how much mileage he was getting to every gallon of gas and oil. I presume you can tell to within a fraction of a cent how much it cost him to operate every automobile."

"How many cars did he have?" asked Mason, fingering the notebook carelessly.

"He had three: The Buick sedan, a Ford coupe, and a Packard roadster."

"The Packard roadster was the one that Miss Celane usually drove?" asked the lawyer.

"It was," said Graves, "and you won't find any figures on that. That was the despair of his life. Miss Celane simply wouldn't turn in mileage figures."

"I see," said Mason. "But the others are accurately accounted for?"

"Yes."

"Miss Celane wasn't in the habit of operating the others?"

Don Graves flashed the lawyer a meaning glance.

"No," he said, shortly.

Perry Mason carelessly opened the notebook to the division which had to do with the Buick sedan, and noticed the different mileage reports which were in there. Apparently for every mile the Buick had traveled, there was a note as to the kind of road it had gone over, the place to which it had been driven, the general average speed, and much other data which represented a mass of detail that would have been considered useless to any save a mind that gloried in figuring costs to a fraction of a cent.

Perry Mason maintained a pose of casual interest as he fingered the pages until he came to the last entry covering the Buick sedan, which was as follows: "15,294.3 miles. Left house and drove to bank. Arrived bank at 15,299.5 miles. Left bank and returned to house at 15,304.7 miles. Instructed Devoe to fill tank."

Perry Mason glanced at the date, and saw that it was the date on which Norton had met his death.

"I see," he remarked casually, "that he went to the bank the day of his death."

"Did he?" said Don Graves.

"I wonder," said Perry Mason, "if that was when he got his money… that is, the cash that he carried."

"I'm sure I couldn't tell you, sir."

"Does anyone know why he had such a large sum of cash in his possession?" asked the lawyer.

"No," said Graves, emphatically.

"Almost looks as though he might have been blackmailed or something," said Mason, his patient eyes peering out from under his level brows at the face of the secretary.

Don Graves met his glance without changing expression by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.

"I hardly think so, sir," he said.

Mason nodded and slipped the book into his pocket. "Just a minute," said the police officer. "Shouldn't that book be kept here with the rest of the papers?"

Mason smiled.

"That's right," he said. "It looks so much like a notebook that I sometimes carry, I mechanically dropped it into my pocket."

He handed the book to the secretary, got up, and yawned.

"Well," he said, "I guess I've covered about everything I need to, as a first preliminary survey. Of course, we'll have to take a detailed inventory later on."

"We can take the detailed inventory now if you want," said Graves.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Mason, yawning again. "There's going to be a lot of detailed stuff to check over here, and I'll probably want my own stenographer here to take notes when I go into it in detail. I hate detail work."

"How about the will? Should we make any further search for the will?" asked Graves.

"Oh, let's close things up now, and I'll have my secretary come out and we'll tackle it to-morrow," said the attorney.

"Very well, sir, just as you say," said Don Graves.

The police representative flipped away his cigarette and remarked, "Any time suits me. I'll be around here all the time."

"Fine," said Mason, without enthusiasm. He lit a cigarette, and walked casually from the office.

He went down the broad flight of stairs, opened the front door, and stood in the sunshine, inhaling the fresh morning air. When he was certain he was not observed, he stepped off the porch, walked to the driveway, and went up the driveway to the garage. He slid back the door of the garage, slipped inside, and walked over to the Buick sedan which stood, obviously well cared for and polished by the chauffeur who was now in jail, charged with murder.

Perry Mason opened the door of the sedan, slid in behind the steering wheel, switched on the dashlight and looked at the speedometer. The figures showed 15,304.7 miles.

The lawyer stared at them for a moment, then switched off the dashlight, slid out from behind the wheel, and carefully closed the door. He walked out of the garage, looked to see if anyone had been observing him, then retraced his steps to the front door.

As he stepped inside, he encountered the form of the housekeeper.

Her glittering black eyes surveyed him uncompromisingly.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," said Perry Mason.

She lowered her voice slightly.

"I'm going to be wanting an answer, sir," she said, "very soon."

"You shall have it," said the attorney, "and, by the way, where is Miss Celane? Is she up yet?"

"Yes, sir, she's up. She's having breakfast in her room."

"Give her my compliments," said the lawyer, "and ask her if I can see her at once."

The glittering black eyes of the housekeeper surveyed his face searchingly, and Perry Mason met her stare with a look of weary patience.

"I'll see," said the housekeeper. She turned and walked with swift, aggressive steps toward the girl's bedroom.

Perry Mason lit a cigarette with a steady hand, took only a single appreciative inhalation, then stood studying the smoke as it eddied from the tip of the cigarette.

He heard the steps of the housekeeper as she pounded toward him.

"Miss Celane says you can talk to her while she's eating breakfast," said the housekeeper. "Right this way, please." The lawyer followed the housekeeper down the corridor and to the door of the girl's room.

The housekeeper held it open.

"There you are, sir," she said. "Step right in," and added in a lower tone, "and remember, I want an answer."

Perry Mason walked in and heard the door slam viciously behind him.

Frances Celane, in a silken negligee, sat curled in an over-stuffed chair. A small stand at the side of the chair held a tray containing empty dishes. A huge coffee pot had been pushed to the side of the tray, and a steaming cup of coffee was at the fingertips of her right hand. Her left held a cigarette.

Her dark eyes, seeming purposely expressionless, surveyed the attorney. Her face showed a hint of rouge, but there was no lipstick on her mouth. The negligee seemed to have been chosen for appearance rather than warmth.

"Good morning," he said, barely sweeping his eyes over the negligee. "Did you sleep any?"

"After I finally got to bed, I did," she said, staring at him steadily. She took the cigarette from her mouth and tapped the ashes into the edge of the saucer under the coffee cup.

Perry Mason moved over and dropped ashes from his own cigarette into the saucer.

"I presume," she said, "that you want money."

"What makes you ask that?" he inquired.

"I understand attorneys always want money."

He made a gesture of impatience with his hand, and said: "That isn't what I meant. Why did you choose this particular time for bringing up the subject?"

"Because," she said, "I have some money for you."

His eyes were coldly cautious. "A check?" he asked.

"No," she said, "cash. Would you mind handing me my purse? It's over there on the dresser."

Mason reached for the purse and handed it to her. She held it at such an angle that he could not see the contents.

She opened it and fumbled with her fingers for a few moments, then produced a sheaf of currency.

"Here," she said, "is something by way of retainer."

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