“But you want to get Gerald Shore entirely out in the clear, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s no better way to do it than by showing us who committed the murders.”
“No,” Mason said, “that isn’t the law. It’s what you were objecting to about my methods, Burger. You see, it’s up to you to prove that my clients committed some crime. As long as I confine myself to representing those clients, I’m practicing law in a staid, conventional manner. The minute I go out and try to ‘outwit the police’, as you called it, I’m guilty of that unconventional conduct which has proven so irritating to you. In fact, Mr. District Attorney, I’ve decided to let you solve your own mysteries — and that’s the last word I was telling you I was going to have.
“Come on, Della. Let’s leave Lieutenant Tragg and the district attorney to work out their little picture puzzle. After all, it’s no skin off our noses.”
Burger said, “Look here, Mason, you can’t do that! I’m satisfied you know a lot more about this case than we do.”
“No, I don’t,” Mason said. “You have every essential fact that I have.”
“Well, perhaps you’ve applied the knowledge we all have to better advantage.”
Mason bowed. “Thank you, counselor.”
“All right, you owe it to us to tell us what conclusion you’ve reached.”
Mason said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Burger. I’ll put you on an equal footing with me. There’s one thing I know that you don’t. Lunk told me that he was satisfied Komo, the houseboy, had been experimenting with poison, that he’d first started experimenting about ten years ago, that shortly before Franklin Shore’s disappearance, Lunk’s brother died, and Lunk has always been under the impression the houseboy poisoned him.”
“Is that right?” Burger asked Lunk.
Lunk said, “That’s right. I don’t think that damn Jap had anything against my brother in particular, but I think he was experimenting with poison — just the way he started experimenting on the kitten.”
Lieutenant Tragg, who had just come up to join the group, said, “There were four bottles of stout in the icebox. Everyone of them had been loaded with strychnine. Do you think the houseboy did that?”
“I know damn well he did it,” Lunk said vehemently.
“How do you know?”
“Well, just from putting two and two together, the same as you know anything.”
Burger said to Tragg, “There’s some new and startling evidence here, Lieutenant. I want to talk with you.”
Mason smiled and said, “What Lunk means, Lieutenant, is that he feels very positively Komo is the poisoner. You’ll remember, Lieutenant, that you told me you thought the evidence would show the bullets had all been fired from the same gun, and that would mean that one person had been guilty of both crimes. Now, follow that reasoning out. Matilda Shore has a perfect alibi. She was in the hospital when the second crime was committed. Gerald Shore has an alibi. You probably know what it is, but I’m not going to stick my neck out by telling you that because I don’t want to be a witness. And you can eliminate Helen Kendal and Jerry Templar. You can eliminate darn near everyone under that theory except three or four people. There you are, Lieutenant. Pay your money and take your choice. But if I were you, I really would investigate the death of Lunk’s brother, and see if it isn’t possible that the death was due to poison rather than natural causes.
“And now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a dinner date with the defendant.”
Chapter 24
The dance orchestra was perfect. The lights were dim and on the floor only a few couples were dancing so that they were neither crowded nor conspicuous.
Without either having spoken for a long time, Perry Mason and Della Street were drifting through the strains of an Island song. As the orchestra swung into the chorus, Della Street began to sing the words very softly. Suddenly she stopped with an involuntary choke.
“S’matter? Swallow a fly?” he demanded. “Go on, do some more. I like it.”
She shook her head.
“Something wrong?” he asked more seriously.
“No. I guess not. I’ve eaten, I’ve drunken, I’ve been merry, so I guess I’m all set for tomorrow.”
The music stopped at that moment. Mason, with his arm still around her waist, swung her away so that he could look at her. His eyes were puzzled for an instant. Then they cleared.
“I didn’t get you. I see — tomorrow you die. Have you been worrying about that damn silly case?”
She laughed nervously. “Well — I suppose every nice girl has to go through this sort of thing sooner or later.”
“But you haven’t committed any crime.”
“I wish you’d remember to tell Hamilton Burger when you see him. It seems ridiculous not to clear up this little misunderstanding, when all you have to do is say, ‘Listen, Ham, old fellow, this little girl is...’ Oh, hell’s bells, let’s sit down.”
Perry followed her to their table.
“I thought you were worried,” Della went on, “when you brought the kitten out to me and found that Franklin Shore wasn’t there.”
“I was,” Mason admitted. “If I’d used my head, though, I needn’t have been.”
“I don’t get it,” she said, lighting a cigarette.
“You should — if you know kittens.”
“You mean the kitten jumping in the flour?”
“No, not that... What is it?” he asked, noticing that she was staring over his shoulder.
“Paul Drake.”
“How did he find us here?” Mason asked, frowning.
Drake was close enough to hear Mason’s remark. He pulled out a chair and sat down.
“As you well know, I can find anybody, any time, any place. Here’s my card. Aren’t you going to order me a drink?”
“Cops and private dicks shouldn’t drink when they’re on duty.”
“Paul Drake, the fellow I work for, is broad-minded. He’s a swell guy. He’s a prince. You ought to meet him.”
Mason summoned a waiter. “Three Scotch and sodas.”
“Five Scotches,” Drake corrected. “But only three of ’em in my glass. I never could stand strong highballs.”
The waiter hesitated, then deftly withdrew.
“You know, Perry, I didn’t just drop in here to buy you and Della Scotch and sodas. There’s something worrying me.”
“Have you been arrested, too?” Della cried.
Paul Drake ignored her comment to look steadily at the lawyer. “Perry,” he said, “you weren’t by any chance planning some especially dramatic blowoff for tomorrow, were you — using your friend, Tom Lunk?”
“Perhaps. Why?”
“You’re not going to do it now,” Drake said.
“Why not?”
“Lunk’s dead, found at a road intersection a couple of blocks from his house, a hit-and-run car. A witness saw it happen and chased the car for half a dozen blocks, but couldn’t even get close enough to see the license number. The car swung around the corner just after Lunk got off the street car he rides home on.”
Mason drummed on the tablecloth with his fingers. “Burger was a damn fool to release him,” he said.
“Apparently, he thought Lunk had told ’em everything he knew and there was no reason for holding him any longer.”
Mason frowned.
“What were you intending to spring on Lunk?” Della asked.
“Quite a few things. Has it ever seemed curious to you, Della, that after I had taken all the precautions to get Lunk registered in a hotel under the name of Thomas Trimmer, the police should have picked him up so easily?”