“Rather neat gadget that,” Mason commented. “Yes, it’s really a little electric refrigerator, makes its own ice, keeps the charged water cold. Well, what did Lynk say? He hasn’t turned the stock over to Peavis already, has he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wouldn’t he tell you?”
“He wasn’t able to talk,” Mason said.
“Wasn’t able to? You mean he was drunk?”
She was pouring whiskey from the bottle, and her hand trembled enough so that the neck of the bottle chattered against the rim of the glass. Mason waited until she had finished with the whiskey, and had reached for the bottle of charged water.
“Lynk,” he said, “was murdered, about midnight.”
For a moment, it seemed that the words meant nothing to her. She continued to trickle charged water from the siphon into the glass, then suddenly she gave a convulsive start, depressed the lever, and squirted liquid up over the rim of the glass. “You mean— Did I hear you right? Dead!”
“Murdered.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes.”
“Who... who did it?”
“They don’t know. He was shot in the back with a thirty-two caliber revolver.”
She put down the bottle of charged water, brought his drink over to him. “Where does that leave me?”
“Out on a limb perhaps,” Mason said.
“At midnight?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, anyway, I have an alibi.” She laughed nervously.
“What is it?” Mason asked.
“Are you serious?”
“Weren’t you?”
“No.”
“Well, let’s be serious then. Where were you?”
“Why,” she said, “I was... Why, how utterly absurd! Nothing could have suited me less than to have anything happen to him before I — we got that stock.”
She paused in front of the little bar, then took out a bottle of cognac. “Scotch is all right,” she said, “as a sociable beverage, but I’m cold and this has been a shock to me. I’m going to have a good jolt of brandy. Do you want to join me?”
“No,” Mason said, “and I don’t think you’re going to have any brandy.”
She had been about to pour the liquor. Now she whirled to stare at him. “You don’t think I’m going to?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Mason said, “if you take a swig of brandy, and then that Scotch, in about twenty minutes or half an hour, you’re going to be just a little warped in your judgment. You’ll think you can get away with things that you can’t.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Where,” Mason asked, “is the fur coat that you had on when you came to the office?”
“Why, in the coat closet.”
“There in the hall?”
“Yes.”
Mason put down his drink, got up, and walked across to the door she had indicated. He opened the hall closet, and took down the hanger which held the silver fox coat she had worn to his office.
Suddenly she ran toward him. “No, no! Put that back. You can’t...”
Mason slid his hand down in the right-hand side pocket of the coat and brought out a thirty-two caliber revolver.
“I thought,” he said, “there was something heavy in your pocket when you came to the office.”
As though his discovery had deprived her of the power to move, she stood motionless and silent.
Mason broke open the gun, saw that one shell had been fired. He smelled of the barrel, closed the gun, hung up the fur coat in the closet, carefully closed the door, walked across to his chair, and dropped into it. He placed the gun on a taboret by the side of the chair, picked up his drink, and said to Mildreth Faulkner, “Here’s how.”
She walked back to the place where she had left her Scotch and soda, without once taking her eyes from him. Then she moved over to stand over the floor heater. “Can I... Can I drink this?”
“Sure,” Mason said. “Go ahead. That will do you good. Just don’t overdo it.”
She drained a good half of the glass, kept watching him with wide, frightened eyes.
“It is rather cool for this time of year,” Mason said. “I’ve noticed when the days are warm and dry, there’s usually a wind in from the desert, and that makes the nights cool off rapidly. Your fur coat should have kept you warm.”
She said, “I got frightfully c-c-cold. I’m having a nervous ch-ch-chill right now.”
“The whiskey will warm you up,” Mason said casually. “How long have you had the gun?”
“Two years.”
“Got a permit for it?”
“Yes.”
“Buy it here in the city?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what ballistics experts are able to do with bullets?”
“No. What?”
“Every bullet fired from a gun bears an unmistakable identification which can be imprinted on it only by that one weapon.”
“Are you trying to tell me that as — as my lawyer so you can warn me...”
“I’m not your lawyer.”
“You’re not? Why, I thought...”
He shook his head. “Not on this case.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know enough about it. I don’t go around selling myself. My brains aren’t a commodity like a motor car which anyone can buy who has the price. A person can buy a bulletproof car and use it to help hold up a bank, but he can’t buy my knowledge of law to use in committing a crime.”
“Mr. Mason, you aren’t serious? You don’t think I killed him?”
“I don’t know. Even if you did, it might be justifiable homicide. All that I’m telling you is that I’m not going to represent you until I know the facts.”
“You mean...”
Mason looked at his wrist watch impatiently and said, “I mean the police will be here almost any minute. If I’m going to represent you, I should know it before then. If there are any weak spots in your story, a little rehearsal wouldn’t hurt any. Go ahead.”
“I don’t want you to represent me.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I want you to represent Carlotta, my sister.”
“What’s she got to do with it?”
Mildreth was silent for several seconds, then said, quickly, “Listen, Mr. Mason, if you’re Carlotta’s lawyer, and I tell you the whole story, they can’t ever make you tell, can they?”
Mason said, “Anything you tell me, goes no farther.”
“But is it legal? If I tell you something, and you’re Carla’s attorney...”
“Legality be damned,” Mason said. “Don’t stand there and quibble. If I’m going to do anything, I have to know what the hell it’s all about.”
“Well,” she said, “the story is simple. I ran over to see Carla and Bob tonight. I had a talk with Bob, and told him I wanted to get that stock in the morning, that Peavis had shown up with the five shares. And Bob was so casual about the whole thing, but had so many reasons why he just couldn’t get me that stock, that I became suspicious and — well, I’m not certain. I think perhaps Carla was listening from the head of the stairs.”
“Go ahead,” Mason said. “Make it snappy.”
“Well, you know what must have happened. Bob had pledged that stock. He had to get it back just to show me anyway. He must have rushed out to see Lynk.”
“What makes you think he did?”
“I... this gun.”
“What about it?”
“Well, I got to thinking things over and decided to have another talk with Bob after what I’d learned from Esther Dilmeyer. I thought it would simplify matters a lot if I could walk into your office and tell you just what the situation was, and...”
“Never mind what you thought. What did you do?”
“I went out to see Bob.”
“What did he say?”