Mason fed a sheet of this paper into the machine and hurriedly wrote out a memo dealing with an imaginary witness in a fictitious case, involving the validity of a will, a witness who must be questioned along certain lines. When he had completed the memo, he put the cover back on the machine.
The aroma of coffee came from the kitchenette.
A few moments later Lucille Barton appeared with a tray and two coffee cups. There was toast on a plate, a small bottle of cream, a sugar bowl, a soft-boiled egg in a cup.
“Sure you won’t have anything except coffee?”
“That’s all, thanks,” Mason said.
She put the tray on the table, said, “Just make yourself at home, Mr. Mason. I’m honored by this visit, but I’m also just a little bit frightened.”
“Why frightened?”
She said, “I don’t know. There’s something about having a lawyer call on you, particularly a famous lawyer such as you are. I suppose — well, why suppose? Let me drink my coffee, and then tell me what it is.”
She sipped her coffee, added cream and sugar, poured cream into Mason’s coffee, and handed him the sugar bowl. After a few seconds she said, “Well, here’s hoping it isn’t too serious. What have I done, Mr. Mason?”
“Nothing as far as I know,” Mason said. “That’s delicious coffee.”
“Thanks.”
“Mind if I smoke?” Mason asked.
“Of course not.”
Mason took his cigarette case from his pocket, lit a cigarette.
Lucille Barton munched on toast, watched him with speculative eyes, smiled easily and naturally whenever she caught him looking at her.
She was, Mason decided, in the late twenties, and evidently a young woman who knew her way around, but there was nothing hard about her. She seemed as naturally naive and as spontaneous with her friendship as a young puppy, anxious to make friends with everyone in a joyful world.
“Well,” she asked, “when do we start?”
“Now,” Mason said. “Where were you on the afternoon of the third — day before yesterday?”
“Oh, good heavens,” she said, and then laughed throatily.
“Where were you?”
“Is that a gag?” she asked, cocking a quizzical eyebrow. “Tell me, are you really serious?”
“Yes.”
“The third — let me see... Heavens, I can’t tell you, Mr. Mason.”
“Do you keep a diary?”
“Come, come, Mr. Mason. Do I look that dumb?”
Mason said, “I’ll put it another way. Were you near the intersection of Hickman Avenue and Vermesillo Drive?”
She puckered her forehead in an attempt to search her recollection. “On the third?”
“On the third.”
Slowly, she shook her head. “I don’t believe I was.”
Mason said, “Let’s go at it again from a slightly different angle. I have reason to believe that you were with some man in a light-colored sedan. You had had a flat tire and had pulled into the curb to fix it. There was an accident there at the intersection just as you were getting ready to drive away, and you noticed something about the car, or about one of the cars that had been in the accident. It was a dark sedan and...”
She was shaking her head vigorously now. “Mr. Mason, I’m quite certain there’s some mistake. At the moment I can’t recall where I was, but I do know very definitely that I haven’t seen any accident within the past few weeks and I certainly wasn’t riding in any car which had a punctured tire. That’s something a person wouldn’t forget in a hurry, don’t you think?”
“It would certainly seem so.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t forget a thing like that... Why are you interested, Mr. Mason?”
Mason said, “I’m representing the occupants of the car that was hit. There was a young man, Bob Finchley, a chap twenty-two years old, who has a broken hip. We hope it will heal up all right so he won’t be crippled, but it’s a serious injury, and it’s certainly going to take some time, even with the best of luck, before he can...”
“Oh, that’s too bad!” she interrupted. “I can’t imagine anything worse than a young man being smashed up. I do hope there is no permanent trouble.”
“Well hope for the best,” Mason agreed.
She finished the egg and toast, readied for a cigarette. Mason held a light and she placed her hands over his. She guided the match to the end of the cigarette. Her hands were warm, vital, and her touch was not too firm, not too delicate, just close enough to let the softness of her fingertips register for a moment on Mason’s hand. Then, as she moved her own hand away, she slid the fingertips along the lawyer’s fingers. “Thanks,” she said, looking up at him with eyes that were suddenly serious. “I suppose you know, Mr. Mason, that I admire you tremendously.”
“Do you?”
“I most certainly do. I’ve followed many of your cases. I think you’re — well, you’re brilliant and magnetic and powerful, and you’re willing to stand up and fight for the underdog. I like that.”
“Well, that’s certainly gratifying,” Mason said. “I try to do the best I can when I’m working on a case. Is there any way that you have of finding out where you were on the afternoon of the third?”
“Why, yes, Mr. Mason. I’m quite certain I can check back over daily events and puzzle it out But I’m afraid I can’t do it now. Having such a famous personage sharing coffee with me in my apartment is a little too much of a thrill. I don’t suppose you know it but I’m as nervous as can be. This is something I’ll remember for a long time, Mr. Mason.”
“When do you suppose you can let me know where you were on the afternoon of the third?”
“I don’t know. It may be — oh, it may come to me within an hour or two. Do you want me to telephone you?”
“If you will, please.”
“I’ll cudgel my wits — although it’s very difficult for me to think back and remember just where I was on any given date. I mean even yesterday. Of course, if I keep thinking long enough, I’ll remember some little thing and then that will pave the way for something else. Let’s see... day before yesterday...”
“I take it you’re not working at any regular job.”
She smiled. “I have an allowance.”
Mason impaled her eyes with his. “Alimony?”
She quickly averted her glance, then suddenly turned defiant eyes back to his. “Anything wrong with that?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Mason said.
“And does it make any difference — in the matter you’re investigating?”
Mason laughed, and said, “That would seem to be a nice way of asking me if it’s any of my business.”
“Well, I was just wondering what — well, whether you were investigating me and this story about the automobile accident was something to sort of pave the way.”
“No,” Mason said. “I’m telling you very frankly that I’m interested in you because I’m trying to uncover witnesses to that automobile accident.”
“Well, I’m quite certain that I didn’t see any automobile accident, and I’m quite certain that wherever I was on the afternoon of the third, I wasn’t at the intersection of Hickman Avenue and — what was that other street?”
“Vermesillo Drive.”
She said, “I know where Hickman Avenue is, but I don’t even know where Vermesillo Drive is, Mr. Mason.”
“You own a car?”
“Well, it’s transportation. It’s a good-looking car, but the engine is in bad shape.”