“Now then,” Mason went on, glancing from one to the other, “does that mean anything to you?”
“It must mean the parrot was present at the time my father was murdered,” Sabin said. “Then Helen must have... but which Helen?”
“But another parrot was found in the cabin,” Mason pointed out.
“Perhaps the murderer switched parrots,” Waid ventured.
Charles Sabin said, “Before we discuss that, I have something of prime importance to take up with you.”
“Go ahead,” Mason told him, “we’ll let the parrot wait.”
“I’ve found a will,” Sabin announced.
“Where?”
“You remember it was disclosed that C. William Desmond acted as attorney for my father in connection with certain matters pertaining to the divorce settlement. That was news to me; I hadn’t heard of it. It wasn’t until Waid told me that I knew anything about it.
“However, it seems that my father didn’t care to have Cutter, Grayson & Bright represent him in connection with the divorce matter.”
“And he had Desmond draw up a will at the same time he made the property settlement agreement?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“What was the will?” Mason wanted to know.
Charles Sabin took a leather-backed notebook from his pocket, and said, “I have made a copy of so much of the provisions as relate to the distribution of his property. It reads as follows:
“ ‘Because I have this day entered into an agreement with my wife, Helen Watkins Sabin, by which it is agreed and understood that she is to receive the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in cash from me, by way of a complete property settlement, and which said sum is to be paid on the completion of divorce proceedings, and the delivery of a certified copy of a final decree of divorce, I direct that, in the event I should die before said sum of one hundred thousand dollars is paid to my said wife, Helen Watkins Sabin, that then, and in such event, my said wife is to receive, from such estate as I may leave, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in cash. In the event, however, said sum of cash has so been paid to the said Helen Watkins Sabin prior to the time of my death, I then intentionally make no other provision for her in this, my will, because the said sum of one hundred thousand dollars is ample to provide for her, and adequately compensate her for any claims she may have on my bounty, or to my estate.
“ ‘All of the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, real, personal, or mixed, I give, devise, and bequeath, share and share alike, to my beloved son, Charles W. Sabin, who has, for years, maintained a commendable patience toward the vagaries of an eccentric man, who has ceased to regard the dollar as the ultimate goal of human endeavor, and to my beloved brother, Arthur George Sabin, who will probably not care to be made the object of my bounty.’ ”
Sabin glanced up from the notebook. “Suppose Dad died before the divorce was granted, does that,” he asked, “have any effect on his will?”
“No,” Mason said. “The way the will is drawn, Helen Watkins Sabin is completely washed up. Tell me about this brother.”
“I don’t know very much about Uncle Arthur,” Charles Sabin said. “I have never seen him, but I understand, generally, he’s something of an eccentric. I know that after Dad became wealthy, he offered Uncle Arthur an opportunity to come into the business, and Uncle Arthur indignantly refused it. After that, Dad visited him and became very much impressed with Uncle Arthur’s philosophy of life. I think that something of my father’s detachment from active business was due to the influence of Uncle Arthur, and I think that’s what he means in his will... Of course, you understand, Mr. Mason, that I want to make some independent provision for my father’s widow?”
“You mean Helen Watkins Sabin?” Mason asked in surprise.
“No, I mean Helen Monteith, or Helen Wallman, or whatever her legal name is. Somehow, I regard her as being my father’s widow, and much more entitled to recognition, as such, than the fortune hunter who hypnotized Dad into matrimony. Incidentally, Mr. Mason, Wallman is a family name. My own middle name is Wallman. That’s probably why my father used it.”
“Well,” Mason said, “as it happens, Helen Monteith, as we may as well call her, is in custody in San Molinas. The authorities intend to charge her with the murder of your father.”
Sabin said, “That’s one of the things I want to talk with you about, Mr. Mason. I want to ask you, fairly and frankly, if you think she murdered my father.”
Mason said, “I’m virtually certain that she didn’t murder him, but there’s some circumstantial evidence which she’s going to have a hard time explaining away — in fact, she may never be able to do it, unless we uncover the real murderer.”
“What evidence, for instance?” Sabin asked.
“In the first place,” Mason said, “she has motivation. She’d been tricked into a bigamous marriage. Men have been killed for less than that. She had opportunity; and what’s more, she had the weapon.
“That’s the worst of circumstantial evidence. The prosecuting attorney has at his command all the facilities of organized investigation. He uncovers facts. He selects only those which, in his opinion, are significant. Once he’s come to the conclusion the defendant is guilty, the only facts he considers significant are those which point to the guilt of the defendant. That’s why circumstantial evidence is such a liar. Facts themselves are meaningless. It’s only the interpretation we give those facts which counts.”
“We’ve had some significant facts develop out at the house,” Waid said, glancing across at Charles Sabin. “Did you intend to tell Mr. Mason about Mrs. Sabin and Steve?”
Sabin said, “Thank you, Richard, for calling it to my attention. After you left last night, Mr. Mason, Steve Watkins and his mother were in the mother’s room in deep consultation. They left the house about midnight and haven’t returned since. They didn’t leave any word where they were going, and we haven’t been able to locate them. The coroner at San Molinas had called an inquest for eight o’clock this evening, and the funeral is scheduled for tomorrow at two o’clock. Having Mrs. Sabin missing is, of course, embarrassing to the family. I consider her departure evidence of shocking bad taste.”
Mason looked across at Waid. “Did you tell Sheriff Barnes and Sergeant Holcomb anything about this business you were transacting for Mr. Sabin in New York?”
“No, I only told them what I considered entered into the case. On this other matter, I didn’t tell a soul until last night. Mrs. Sabin had browbeaten me into silence.”
“You told the sheriff about receiving a telephone call from Mr. Sabin at ten o’clock at night?”
“Yes, of course. I felt that entered into the case and wasn’t betraying any confidence.”
“Did Mr. Sabin seem in good spirits when you talked with him?”
“In excellent spirits. I don’t think I’ve ever heard his voice sound happier. Looking back on it now, of course, I can understand. He’d just received word that Mrs. Sabin was going to get the divorce decree the next day, and that gave him the chance to remarry Miss Monteith. Mrs. Sabin had evidently telephoned him and told him that the divorce was going through.”
“Did you know that he was spending some time in San Molinas?” Mason asked.