“I see I’m beginning to register now,” he said.
“The gun that killed him. What kind of a gun was it?”
“Apparently a small-caliber revolver,” Mason said.
“I... I—”
“Go on,” Mason told her.
“I had such a gun in the apartment. I kept it right in the dresser drawer — for protection.”
Mason’s smile was skeptical.
“You must believe me, Mr. Mason, you simply must!”
“I’d like to,” Mason said. “You make a good impression. But after all, Maxine, this is your first attempt at concocting a story. Remember, I’ve heard hundreds of them.”
“But this isn’t a story that I’m concocting. It’s the truth.”
Mason said, “I know, Maxine. You go ahead and handle it the way you want to. I just felt that it was my duty to point out to you that the police were going to build a case against you.”
“But what can I do?”
“I don’t know,” Mason told her, “and remember this, Maxine. I am not your lawyer. I would suggest that you go from here to the best lawyer in Redding; that you use the twenty-five dollars you have received as a retainer, and that you tell him you understand a man has been found murdered in your apartment in Los Angeles. You ask him to get in touch with the police and see if they want to interrogate you.”
She said, “Collin Durant was playing his cards close to his chest. He told me that Mr. Olney’s picture was a fake; to tell Rankin. Then, after I’d told Mr. Rankin, he said that was exactly what he’d wanted me to do.”
“Did he tell you why he wanted you to tell Rankin?”
“He said he was laying for Mr. Rankin.”
“And that he wanted Rankin to sue him?”
“Not in so many words. He just said he was laying for Rankin.”
“Not Olney?”
“No, just Rankin. Then he came to me and told me that I had to get out fast. He said I had an hour but that I was to walk out casually without taking even so much as a toothbrush. He said he’d meet me at the bus terminal before eight o’clock if he didn’t get back to the apartment before I left. He said I was to go to Mexico, that I could stay in Acapulco if I wanted, but that I had to take the bus to El Paso, and then go on down to Mexico City.”
“Did he have a key to your apartment?”
“Not that way. He had one last night. He made me give him one of mine.”
“Last night?”
“Yes. I had two keys. I gave him one and then later I gave Miss Street the other.”
“Why did he want one of your keys if you were leaving?”
“He said he was going to check the apartment and make certain I hadn’t left any notes or made it seem I’d skipped out. He said I was to take just the clothes I was wearing, no suitcase, nothing. I was just to walk out — casually.
“He seemed particularly afraid someone would see me leaving carrying a suitcase. He felt detectives might be keeping an eye on me.”
Mason shook his head. “It won’t work, Maxine. That story won’t stand up. Go to a lawyer here. Then you ring up your sister and see if she and your brother-in-law will stand back of you and...”
Mason broke off at the expression on Maxine’s face.
“You mean they wouldn’t?” Mason asked.
“Oh, my God,” she said, “I can’t. I simply can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t let them get dragged into it.”
“Dragged into it?” Mason said. “To the extent that they are relatives of yours and that you were on your way to join them, they’re already in it.”
“I wasn’t... I wasn’t going to join them. I was just going to explain things to them and get money enough to keep on going up to Canada or someplace where no one could find me — only I intended to tell them I’d keep in touch with them and if Collin Durant wanted to know where I was I’d tell him where he could get in touch with me... I wouldn’t bring trouble to their house. I wouldn’t—”
“Don’t try to lie to me,” Mason said, “at least in such a bungling manner. You were streaking your way up the coast in order to be with them. You sent your sister a wire to send you money. It was just the amount of money you needed to get food for yourself and gas for the car in order to get up there.”
Maxine slid over into the corner, put her head up against the wall of the booth, and closed her eyes wearily.
“I give up,” she said at length. “I can’t convince you and I’m telling you the truth... I’m so darned tired!”
“Want to make a confession?” Mason asked. “And remember, Maxine, I’m not your lawyer. Anything you tell me won’t be confidential.”
“Mr. Mason, you’ve got to help me.”
“I can’t help you.”
“Why not?”
“I have other interests.”
“In the— You mean with Mr. Rankin?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head and said, “Rankin has nothing to do with this.”
“I can’t help you,” Mason said, “at least not without his permission.”
She kept her eyes closed, kept herself propped in the corner of the booth. “I give in, Mr. Mason,” she said. “I’ll tell you what Durant had on me.
“My sister married Homer Stigler. That was years ago. He went overseas in the army. While he was away she met someone who had a glib line of chatter and it all happened at a time when her marriage was just about ready to break up.
“Homer had been gallivanting around a little bit overseas and Phoebe had heard about it. She decided the marriage was on the rocks, but she didn’t write him one of the ‘Dear John’ letters because she had heard so much about those and how they disrupted morale in the armed services. She thought she would just carry on until he came back and then she’d tell him. Or she’d let him make the first move.
“So the next thing Phoebe knew she was pregnant and then things dragged along for a while and then just before the baby was born she got a letter from Homer stating that he’d made a fool of himself, that he’d been tangled up with this girl overseas but that it was simply one of those physical affairs that happen when a man is kept away from home and is hungry for feminine companionship and he begged forgiveness and told her that he would be home in six months and wanted to begin all over again and that she was the only woman he had ever really loved.
“By that time Phoebe had found out that this man she had been interested in was just a playboy and a heel. As soon as he found out about her condition, he had dropped her like a hot potato.
“Phoebe realized she wanted to save her marriage if she could — and well, I became the fall guy.”
“What do you mean?” Mason asked.
“She wrote him that I had had an affair, that I was going to have a baby and that she had invited me to come and live with her. And that when the baby was to be born we were going down to California and I could have the baby and then we’d put it out for adoption.”
“And what happened?” Mason asked.
“We went to California. Phoebe had the baby but she used my name and we got the child in one of the homes, and then Phoebe returned to Oregon, and Homer came home and they were very happy. And then Homer suggested that they adopt my baby, a little boy.
“Well, that’s the situation. Homer and Phoebe adopted the baby, I signed the necessary papers, and Homer thinks I am the erring sister who had an illegitimate child... And they’re very, very happy.”
“What would have happened if Phoebe had told him the truth at the time?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know. Homer is peculiar. He’s intense, he’s very possessive and he’s — well, he’s like all men.”
“What would happen if she told him now?”
“He’d kill her and kill himself. He’d hit the ceiling. He’s temperamental and— Oh, my Lord, if he ever found out now!”