Farrell kept his eyes on Mason and said, “I don’t like that.”
Mason surveyed the man from head to foot and said calmly, “No one asked whether you liked it or not.”
Farrell took a quick step toward Mason. The lawyer made no move.
“Just a minute!” Hamilton Burger said.
Farrell stopped his advance.
Hamilton Burger said, “Farrell, what do you know about a gun that was purchased by the Texas Global Company for the protection of its cashier? The gun was purchased three years ago.”
Farrell frowned in concentration, shifted his eyes from Mason to Burger, said, “I’m afraid I know nothing, Mr. Burger.”
“Now, think carefully,” Burger said. “The gun was purchased, and I understand was turned over to the cashier who—”
“Do you know who okayed the invoice?” Farrell asked.
“Mr. Conway has admitted that he probably did.”
“I said I thought I might have,” Conway corrected.
Once again Farrell’s teeth flashed. “Well, gentlemen, there’s your answer!”
Mason said, “I take it you knew the young woman who was found dead in the Redfern Hotel, Mr. Farrell?”
Farrell’s eyes were impudent. “What if I did?”
“You knew her rather intimately, I believe.”
“Are you making an accusation?”
“I am asking a question.”
“I don’t have to answer your questions. I’ll answer questions asked by the police and by the district attorney.”
“This Rose Calvert was doing some work for you?” Hamilton Burger asked Farrell.
“Yes, sir. She was. She was doing some very confidential work. It was work that I didn’t want to entrust to a regular stenographer. I wanted someone who was outside of the business, someone whom I knew I could trust. I chose Mrs. Calvert.
“Now, I will say this, gentlemen. In some way it leaked out that she was doing this work, and an attempt was made to get her to deliver information to Mr. Conway. Conway offered her five thousand dollars in cash for copies of the work she was doing, listing the stockholders who had sent in their proxies. She refused the offer.”
Conway said angrily, “That’s a He! I never talked with her in my life — that is, about that work. I didn’t know she was doing it!”
Farrell said, “I have her assurance that you did.”
The district attorney looked at Conway.
“That’s an absolute falsehood,” Conway said. “I never rang up Mrs. Calvert in my life. I knew her only as a young woman who was in the brokerage office where I transacted my individual business and much of the business of the Texas Global. I used to chat with her, in the way one would chat with an employee under conditions of that sort. I didn’t know her otherwise.”
“How well did Farrell know her?” Mason asked.
“I’ll conduct this inquiry, Mr. Mason,” Burger said.
“In case you’re interested,” Mason told him, “Mrs. Calvert’s husband says that Gifford Farrell knew her quite well; in fact, too well.”
“And that is a falsehood!” Farrell said. “My relations with Rose Calvert were a combination of business and friendship.”
“Ever buy any clothes for her?” Mason asked.
Farrell said, “I did not, and anyone who says I did is a damned liar!”
“Then,” Mason said, “I have talked with a liar who says that you bought her a Bikini bathing suit. You sent a mail order to one of the magazines that advertises those things. However, there’s no use questioning your word, because the mail-order records will show that.”
Farrell’s face showed startled surprise. His eyes which had been glaring at Perry Mason suddenly shifted. He became conscious of the circle of men who were regarding him with keen interest, their trained eyes taking in every flicker of facial expression.
Farrell took a deep breath, then once more his teeth flashed in a quick smile. “I’m afraid, Mr. Mason, that you have been making a mountain out of a molehill. It is true,
I did send away for one of those Bikini bathing suits. It was just a gag. I intended to use it as the basis for a practical joke in connection with one of my associates.
“I can assure you that the suit had nothing to do with Rose Calvert.”
“Then how did it happen,” Mason asked, “that she put the suit on?”
“She didn’t!” Farrell snapped.
“Then how did it happen that you took her picture with the suit on, a picture which was posed in your bedroom while your wife was in New York?”
Try as he might, Farrell couldn’t keep the dismay from his face.
There was a long period of silence.
“Well?” Hamilton Burger asked. “We’re waiting, Farrell.”
Farrell said, “I don’t know what the idea of this is. I came up here to do anything I could to help find the murderer of Rose Calvert. I didn’t come up here to be cross-examined by some attorney who is trying to shield the murderer and drag a lot of red herrings across the trail.
“There has been a lot of talk about frame-up, and I guess perhaps I have been unusually naive. I don’t know who is trying to frame something on me, but if this question is going to hinge upon some Bikini bathing suit which I purchased as a joke, and some accusations in regard to pictures, I guess I had better get an attorney of my own.”
“Do you deny that you took such a picture?” Mason asked.
Farrell faced him and said evenly, “Go to hell.”
Mason grinned at Hamilton Burger. “The canary seems to have quit singing and started chirping.”
Sgt. Holcomb said, “I’ve had a long talk with Farrell, Mr. Burger, and I’m convinced that he’s all right. Perry Mason is just trying to use this business as a red herring.”
Hamilton Burger said abruptly, “I see no reason for letting this interview degenerate into a brawl. Conway has appeared and has told his story. The gun which he has handed us and which he insists he took from the Redfern Hotel is quite obviously not the fatal gun.”
“Not the fatal gun!” Farrell exclaimed.
Burger shook his head.
“Then he’s switched guns!” Farrell said.
“You don’t need to point out the obvious to this office,” Hamilton Burger said with dignity. “Mr. Mason’s legal ingenuity is too well known to need any comment from anyone.
“I desire to interrogate Mr. Farrell further.
“Mr. Mason and Mr. Conway are excused. Just go on out and I will send for you again if there are any further developments.”
Mason took Conway’s arm. “Come on, Jerry.”
Mason opened the door. Conway and Mason walked out together down the long corridor and out through the folding doors into the district attorney’s waiting room. The office was jammed with newspaper reporters. Flashbulbs popped in a dazzling array of blinding light flashes.
Reporters crowded around asking questions.
Conway tried to force his way through the reporters.
“Take it easy, Jerry,” Mason said. And then to the reporters, “We’ll make a statement to you, gentlemen. An attempt was made to frame a murder on my client, Gerald Conway. I don’t know whether the murder was committed and then the murderer, in desperation, tried to involve Mr. Conway, or whether the whole thing was part of a scheme to discredit Conway in connection with this battle for proxies in the Global Company. I can only tell you gentlemen what happened, and assure you of our desire to co-operate in every way possible in cleaning up this case.”
“Well, what happened?” one of the reporters asked.
Mason turned to Conway and said, “Tell them your story, Jerry.”
Conway frowned and hesitated.
“It’s a damned sight better to let the newspaper have your version,” Mason said, “than to get a second-hand, garbled version from someone who was present in the district attorney’s office — Gifford Farrell, for instance.”