He took a package of cigarettes from his pajama pocket, extracted one, and leaned forward to accept the light which Mason held out as he snapped his lighter into flame.
The lawyer lit his own cigarette, said, “Do you have any pictures of your wife?”
“Pictures? Sure.”
“May I see them?”
“Why?”
“I want to be absolutely certain that you and I are talking about the same woman,” Mason said.
Calvert looked at him for a moment, took a deep drag on the cigarette, exhaled twin streams of smoke from his nostrils, got up, walked into the other room and came back with two framed pictures and an album.
“These are pictures she had taken,” he said.
Mason studied the framed, retouched photographs. “You have some snapshots?”
The man opened the album, said, “This goes back to when we first met. She gave me a camera for my birthday. Here are some of the more recent pictures.”
Mason thumbed through the album. Within a half-dozen pictures he was virtually certain of his identification.
He closed the album and said, “I’m sorry to have to bring you the news, Calvert. I can’t be absolutely certain, but I’m practically certain that your wife was involved in a tragedy which took place a few hours ago.”
Calvert jerked bolt upright. “An automobile accident?”
“A murder.”
“A murder!”
“Someone killed her.”
For several long seconds Calvert sat absolutely motionless. Then his mouth twitched downward at the corners. He hastily took another drag on his cigarette, said, “Are you sure, Mr. Mason?”
“I’m not absolutely sure,” Mason said, “but I think the body I saw was that of your wife.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“She was in the Redfern Hotel, lying on a bed. She was wearing a blue sweater, sort of a robin’s-egg blue, and a skirt to match.”
Calvert said, “That sweater was a Christmas present from me last Christmas. She likes tight-fitting sweaters. She’s proud of her figure. It’s a good one.”
Mason nodded.
“Have they got the person who... who did it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Calvert said, “She was pretty well tied up with this Farrell. She was afraid of Mrs. Farrell.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think Mrs. Farrell had threatened her at one time. I know she was afraid of her.”
“You had separated for good?” Mason asked.
“I never really gave up. I thought she’d come to her senses and come back. That’s why I came down here. At present I’m running this filling station. I’ve got a chance to buy a store here. I think there’s a good living in it, but I’m a man who goes at things like that pretty cautiously. I don’t act on impulse. I wanted to look this place over at first hand. The service station I have is Tight next door to the store. I think maybe I’ll buy it... How can I find out for sure about my wife?”
“Someone will probably be in touch with you within a short time, if the body is that of your wife,” Mason said. “It’s hard to make an identification from photographs.”
Calvert pinched out the cigarette. “How did you happen to come here?” he asked. “How did you find me?”
Mason said, “There’s a letter in the mailbox at her house. It had your address on the upper left-hand corner. I had to see some photographs. I thought perhaps you’d have them.”
“You saw... saw the body?”
Mason nodded.
Calvert said, “I hadn’t heard from her for six weeks, I guess. Then she wrote to me and told me she wanted to go to Reno and get a divorce.”
“Did she say that she and Farrell were planning on getting married?”
“No, she just said she wanted a divorce. She said that she could establish residence in Reno and get a divorce without any trouble if I’d co-operate.”
“What did she mean by ‘co-operate’?”
“She wanted me to file an appearance of some sort. It seems if I get an attorney and appear in court to contest the action, they can get around a lot of red tape in serving a summons and save a lot of delay. She said she was willing to pay for the attorney “
“And what did you tell her?” Mason asked.
“I told her that I’d co-operate if she was sure that was what she wanted,” Calvert said, “and then I’ve been thinking things over and... well, I just about decided to change my mind. When you came down here and got me up out of a sound sleep, I was mad! I made up my mind I wasn’t going to fall all over myself fixing it so she could get tied up with this man Farrell. He’s a fourflusher, a woman chaser — and he’s just no good!”
“Do you have the letter which your wife wrote?” Mason asked.
“I have it,” Calvert said. “Just a minute.”
He kicked off the blanket, walked into the bedroom again, came back with an envelope which he handed to Mason.
The lawyer shook the letter out of the envelope, read:
Dear Norton,
There’s no reason why either of us should go on this way. We’re both young, and we may as well have our freedom. We’ve made a mistake which has cost us a lot of heartaches, but there’s no reason for it to ruin our lives. I’m going to Reno and get a divorce. They tell me that, if you will get a lawyer and make an appearance in Reno, that will save me a lot of time and a lot of money in having the case brought to trial.
So why not be a sport and give me a break? You don’t want a wife who isn’t living with you, and I don’t want to be tied up by marriage. That’s not fair to me and it isn’t doing you any good.
I’m sorry I hurt you so much. I’ve said this to lots of people and I’ll keep on saying it: You are one of the most thoughtful, considerate husbands a girl could ask for. You’re sweet and patient and understanding. I’m sorry that I couldn’t have been a better wife to you, but after all each person has to live his own life. Now be a sport and let me make a clean break, so we can both begin all over.
Yours,
Calvert began twisting his fingers nervously. “I just can’t seem to picture her as being dead, Mr. Mason. She’s so full of life and vitality. You’re sure?”
“No,” Mason told him, “I’m not sure. But I think the woman I saw was your wife. She was blond with blue eyes, and she was wearing this blue sweater which just about matched her eyes. The eyes were only partially open, and... well, you know how it is with a dead person. Sometimes it’s hard to make a positive identification from photographs, but I think I’m right.”
“What was she doing at the Redfern Hotel?”
“I don’t know.”
“How does Gifford Farrell figure in this?”
“I don’t know that. I don’t even know that he figures in it.”
Calvert said with considerable feeling, “Well, you can bet your bottom dollar he figures in it somewhere. I guess I could have got along without Rose all right, if I’d felt she was being happy with somebody, but this... this thing — it just sort of knocks me for a loop.”
Mason nodded sympathetically.
Abruptly Calvert got up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mason. You’ve got the information you want and I... well, I’m just not able to keep on talking. I feel all choked up. I guess I’m going to take it pretty hard. I tried to pretend that I could get along without her, but I always had a feeling she was coming back, and— Just pull the door closed when you leave.”
Calvert threw the blanket into a crumpled ball on the floor, walked back hurriedly to the bedroom, kicked the door shut.
The house grew silent.