“I made inquiries.”
“Where?”
“There’s a little store and service station, just a neighborhood affair, down by the foot of the grade. I remembered having passed that. Lights were on and a lot of cars in front. They were having a birthday celebration for the man that runs it. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time. I just knew the lights were on... They told me when I went in... I asked him if they knew where Mr. Lynk’s place was... I asked indirectly.”
“They told you?”
“Yes. One of the guests knew.”
“And you went up there?”
“Yes.”
“Now approximately how much of an interval had elapsed from the time you lost sight of your husband until you arrived at Lynk’s cabin?”
“Ten minutes.”
“All right, go ahead.”
“I went to the cabin and knocked. There was no answer. The door was slightly ajar — open perhaps an inch.”
“You went in?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“And what did you find?”
“You know what I found — a man — I suppose it was Lynk — slumped over against a table. He was dead — shot.”
“What did you do?”
She indicated that she wanted to rest. For more than a minute she lay with her eyes closed, breathing heavily. At length she said, “The shock should have killed me, but, strangely enough, I didn’t have any shock — not then... For some reason, I was as detached as though I had been watching a mystery play on the screen.”
“You weren’t frightened?”
“I seemed to be without any emotion whatever. My feelings were completely numbed. The shock — that is, the emotional shock — came later.”
“Go ahead,” Mason said.
“I knew, of course, that Bob had been out there, that they’d had a quarrel, and Bob had shot him.”
“How did you know that?”
“For one thing,” she said, “my gun — that is, Millie’s gun, the one that she gave me — was on the floor.”
“How did you know it was that same gun?”
“Because there’s a little corner chipped off of the mother-of-pearl handle.”
“Where was the gun?”
“Lying on the floor.”
“What did you do?”
“Picked it up.”
“Were you wearing gloves?” Mason asked.
“No.”
“Then you got your fingerprints all over it?”
“I suppose so.”
“You didn’t think of that at the time?”
“No.”
“Then why did you pick up the gun? Did you think you might have to defend yourself?”
“No, of course not. I thought it was evidence Bob had left. I was protecting him. I... love him. I’m his wife.”
“All right, you picked up the gun. What did you do with it?”
“Put it... in the pocket of my coat.”
“And then what?”
“There were papers on the table,” she said.
“You looked through those papers?”
“No, I didn’t. But something caught my eye. The stock in the Faulkner Flower Shops.”
“How did that happen to catch your eye?”
“It’s distinctive, the lithography on the stock certificate. I saw this stock certificate, picked it up — saw what it was.”
“And what did you do with that?”
“I put it in my purse.”
“Then what?”
“Then,” she said, “I walked out.”
“Did you leave the door ajar behind you?”
“No, I didn’t. There was a spring lock on the door. I pulled the door shut.”
“Get your hands on the doorknob?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And no gloves?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I got in my coupe and drove away.”
“Where?”
“I went directly home. I realized, of course, what Bob had done. I wanted to hear his side of it.”
“Then what?”
“I waited for a while, and Bob didn’t show up, and then I got in a panic. I began to realize what a horrible thing it all was — the numbing effect of the shock had worn off and left me with the realization of what it meant. My heart got bad. I took some of my medicine. It helped a little.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I felt that I simply had to see Bob. It was the most awful feeling I’ve ever had in my life to realize that the man I love — the man I married — and then seeing that body... I guess that was the first time it really struck me — the force of it. Bob was a murderer.”
She again closed her eyes and lay for a minute or two simply resting.
“Did you go anywhere in search of your husband?” Mason asked after a while.
“No. I realized he wasn’t the sort to face things like that. I knew he’d run away. I felt I’d never see him again. I knew I didn’t want to, and yet I knew that I loved him.”
“What did you do?”
“I needed someone in whom to confide. There was only one person.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“No. I knew I couldn’t stay in that house by myself. I threw just a few things into an overnight bag, got in my car, and drove by Millie’s house. She wasn’t home. Her car wasn’t in the garage. I knew she worked quite frequently at the office in the Broadway shop — you know, the Faulkner Flower Shops, the Broadway Branch.”
“So you went there?”
“Yes.”
“And she wasn’t there?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Then was when the reaction set in.”
“What did you do?”
“I was pretty sick for a while. I went into the lobby of a hotel and sat down. I may have been unconscious. A bellboy asked me if I wanted some water, and asked me if I was ill. I told him that I’d overtaxed my heart a little, and if he’d let me stay there for a few minutes, I’d be all right.”
“You finally got to feeling better?”
“Yes.”
“So the net result of what happened is that you picked up the gun with which the murder had been committed, carried it to your house and left it on the dresser of your room with your fingerprints all over it?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
Mason said, “Your husband seems to have skipped out.”
“Yes. He would.”
“Where,” Mason asked, “is that stock?”
“You mean the Faulkner Flower Shops certificate?”
“Yes.”
“In my bag.”
Mason handed her the bag. “I’m going to take charge of that.”
She opened her handbag, gave him the folded stock certificate.
The telephone rang. Mason said, “That’s probably Dr. Willmont,” and picked up the telephone. He said, “Hello,” and heard Dr. Willmont say, “What is it this time?”
Mason said, “Another patient, Doctor.”
“Violence?”
“No. I want you to come to the Clearmount Hotel in a rush. I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby. Can you do it?”
“An emergency case?”
“In a way.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“How’s Miss Dilmeyer?”
“Still sleeping.”
“Can’t you hurry that up a bit?”
“I can, but I’m not going to. Too many people are going to pounce down on her as soon as she regains consciousness. I’m going to see she stays quiet just as long as she can. Where did you say you were? The Clearmount Hotel?”
“Yes. That’s a little hotel on...”
“I know where it is. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
Mason crossed over to the writing desk, took out an envelope, fitted the stock certificate into it, addressed the envelope to himself at his office address, and took some stamps from his billfold.
Mrs. Lawley watched him silently.
“The doctor,” Mason explained, “will be here in about ten minutes. I’ll go down to the lobby and meet him. What have you done with your car?”