Mason turned to Harold Leeds. “Is that,” he asked, “the truth?”
“That’s the truth,” Leeds said.
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? My hands were tied. Apparently, it was a matter between Hogarty and Uncle Alden. Hogarty said that Uncle Alden was willing to make out a settlement.”
“And you went down to see Milicant, or Hogarty or Conway, whatever you want to call him, the night of the murder?” Mason asked.
“Yes,” Harold Leeds said, in a voice which was almost inaudible.
“What time was it?”
“Right after Uncle Alden left.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw Uncle Alden leave the Conway apartment and walk down the corridor to the elevator.”
“Where were you?”
“I was coming down the stairs. The stairs are back toward the end of the corridor. I’d just reached the foot of the stairs when the door of the apartment opened, and Uncle Alden walked down the corridor to the elevator. He was moving very rapidly.”
“You didn’t speak to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He seemed — well, nervous and upset — and I couldn’t explain to him about Inez. I didn’t want him to know I was... there in the building.”
“So what did you do?”
“After he’d gone down in the elevator, I went to the Conway apartment.”
“Knock on the door?” Mason asked.
“The door was slightly ajar, an inch or so. I knocked on it. There was no answer. I pushed the door open, and called Conway’s name. He’d asked me never to call him Hogarty, and not to refer to him as Milicant while he was there in that apartment. There was still no answer. The apartment had been searched. Papers were scattered about. There were some empty dishes on the table. Evidently, two people had eaten a hurried dinner, and...
“Why hurried?” Mason asked.
“Because places weren’t set at the table. The plates were placed just as they’d been left, with the knives and forks dumped on the tray. There was a pot that had contained coffee on the tray and two saucers. The cups were dirty.”
“The dishes weren’t piled up?” Mason asked.
“No, left just as though people had eaten hurriedly and dropped the dishes back into place.”
“And the knives and forks were on the tray?”
“Yes.”
“You evidently looked that over pretty carefully.”
“I did. I wondered if Uncle Alden had been eating dinner with Conway because — well, I thought Uncle Alden had broken in and stolen those papers Milicant — Hogarty — bad.”
“You say there was a pot of coffee?”
“The pot had contained coffee. You could smell it.”
“There wasn’t any left?”
“No, not a drop.”
“Any food left?”
“No. The plates were slick and clean.”
“No bread, no butter?” Mason asked.
“Nothing, just the bare plates.”
“Go on from there,” Mason said.
“Well, I looked around the apartment a little, and opened the bathroom door.”
“It was closed?”
“Yes, it was closed but not locked.”
“What did you find?” Mason asked.
“The body.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I stood right there with cold sweat breaking out all over me,” Leeds said, talking more rapidly now as he warmed to the story. “Then I realized what a sweet spot I was in. I’d messed around there altogether too much. So I took my silk handkerchief, polished off the doorknobs I’d touched, and beat it.”
“Did you leave the door open?”
“No. I wanted to delay the discovery of the body as long as possible so we could clear out. I pulled the door shut. The spring lock clicked into place.”
“How long was it after your uncle had left the apartment when you went in?”
“Perhaps ten or fifteen seconds, just long enough for Uncle Alden to walk rapidly to the elevator and start down in the cage.”
“How long were you in there?”
“Not over two minutes.”
“To whom have you told this?” Mason asked.
“Not a living soul except Inez.”
Mason glanced significantly at Paul Drake, then looked over to where Della Street, catching up with her fountain pen on the rapid-fire conversation, held her hand poised over the shorthand notebook.
Inez Colton said, “So you see Harold’s position. He can’t help your client any, Mr. Mason, and his testimony would clinch the case against Alden Leeds.”
“You think Alden Leeds did it?” Mason asked, staring steadily at Harold.
“I don’t know,” the young man said. “I do know that Uncle Alden was raised in a hard school. If Hogarty’s claim was justified, I hope Uncle Alden would have done something about it. I like to think so, anyway. But if it wasn’t justified, and Hogarty was trying to hold him up, I... Well, I don’t know just where Uncle Alden would draw the line. I know one thing, I’d hate to have him on my trail. Any time you cross Uncle Alden, you have a fight on your hands... I think Uncle Alden found him... No, I don’t know what happened.”
Abruptly, Mason got to his feet “Well,” he said, “that’s that.”
“How about this subpoena?” Inez Colton asked.
“Forget it,” Mason said. “As far as we’re concerned, it hasn’t been served. Tear it up.”
Harold Leeds shot forth an impulsive hand. “That’s mighty white of you, Mr. Mason,” he said, “and you can rest assured that I’ll keep all of this under my hat.”
“Sorry we broke in on you this way,” Mason said to Inez Colton. “Come on, folks. Let’s go.”
Della Street closed her notebook, slipped it back into her purse. Drake glanced sidelong at Mason, then got to his feet without a word. Mason led the way out into the corridor. Inez Colton bid them goodnight and closed the door.
As the three marched wordlessly down the corridor, the fat, blonde woman, who had stood in the doorway when Mason brought Harold Leeds back into the room, opened the door and stood staring silent, expressionless, motionless. She was still standing there when the trio entered the automatic elevator.
“Well,” Mason said, on the ride down, “I’ve played right into the D.A.’s hands. Apparently, Milicant really was Hogarty.”
“I thought you knew he was,” Drake said.
Mason twisted his lips into a lopsided grin. “I wanted the police to think I thought he was,” he said. “Let’s get to a telephone where I can put through a long distance call.”
“Want me any more?” Drake asked.
Mason said, “No. Get to work and try to plug some of these other loopholes.”
“Looks as though you’d bitten off a little more than you can chew, Perry,” Drake said, dropping a hand on the lawyer’s shoulder. “Take it easy this time. Remember this isn’t your funeral. If your client’s guilty, he’s guilty. Evidently he’s lied to you. Don’t throw yourself into the case and leave yourself wide open.”
Mason said, “He isn’t guilty, Paul — at least not the way they claim.”
Drake said, “Okay, Perry. I’ll take a taxi back to the office.”
He walked over to the curb, gave a shrill whistle, and sprinted for the corner to stop a cruising cab.
Della Street glanced at Perry Mason. “Well, Chief,” she said, “we seem to be taking it on the chin.”
Mason said, “There’s a hotel in the next block, Della, with a switchboard and telephone booths. I think we can get a call through.”
“Whom are you going to call, Chief?” she asked.