“I know,” Tragg interrupted. “Magard wouldn’t play ball because he already had an alibi. Coll is frightened stiff. He has an idea the police might frame him for the murder if we can’t turn up a good suspect. I’m acting as though I was toying with that idea. That makes him wild. He’s frantically trying to find out who really did it to save his own neck.”
“I wouldn’t trust him,” Mason said. “I’d figure anything he’d bring in would be a phony.”
“He found Mrs. Rockaway,” Tragg said.
“Who’s she?”
“She and her husband run the service station and grocery store down near the mouth of Lilac Canyon.”
“What does she know?”
“Right around midnight a woman drove up to the place. She seemed very nervous, and her lips were a little blue. She asked several questions about streets, where different streets turned off, and did they know where a Mr. Horlick lived and wasn’t there a Mr. Smith who had a place that was for sale, right near a cabin owned by Mr. Lynk?”
Tragg stopped talking to study Mason’s face.
“Go ahead,” Mason said.
“Well, Mrs. Rockaway walked right into the trap all right. She said there was a Smith living up near the top of the hill, but he didn’t live anywhere near Mr. Lynk’s place, that she didn’t know any Mr. Horlick, and she hadn’t heard about Smith’s property being for sale, that there were some other places around there for sale, but she hadn’t heard about the Smith piece being for sale.”
“I suppose,” Mason said, “by the time she gets to court, she’ll swear this woman was Carlotta Lawley.”
Tragg’s smile was triumphant. “Don’t worry, Mason,” he said. “The Rockaways were having a birthday party. There were a dozen guests there. They all got a good look at the woman. It was Carlotta Lawley all right.”
“A woman going out to commit a murder would naturally drop in on a birthday party and ask directions so they could remember her afterwards,” Mason said.
The smile faded from Tragg’s face. “Now then,” he admitted, “there’s the rub. That bothers me. But notice that she didn’t walk right in and ask where Lynk lived. She beat around the bush and got the information so skillfully that if Coll hadn’t given me the tip, they probably never would have reported. Of course, they might have recognized Mrs. Lawley’s picture in the paper, but, without that tip, Mrs. Lawley’s picture might never have been in the paper.”
“How did Coll find out about it?”
“Just leg work.”
“I don’t think much of it,” Mason said. “You wouldn’t be letting Coll be such a mother’s helper on your murder case that you overlooked him as a possible suspect on the candy. That might be Coll’s game, you know.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have any more confidence in Coll than you have. He’s in the clear on the candy business. That was sent by someone in the Golden Horn.”
“How do you figure?”
“The wrapping on the box was paper they use at the Golden Horn. The address was typed on a sheet of paper of exactly the same kind they use as stationery. Then the portion which contained the typewriting was cut off and pasted on the wrapper with glue such as they use at the nightclub. Now, here’s a significant clue. The glue was very hard. It had completely set. The chemist in our crime laboratory says it’s over forty-eight hours old. See what that means? Whoever sent that candy had been planning the thing some time in advance, then waited for a propitious moment.”
“What determined that moment?”
“When Mildreth Faulkner sent those orchids. The card dropped to the floor when the Dilmeyer girl took the orchids out of the box. The poisoner picked up the card, put it in the candy, and called a messenger.”
Mason thought that over. “Sounds goofy. Have you located the messenger?”
“Oh, yes. That was easy. A woman walked up to the counter of a messenger service in the theatrical district during the rush hour, slid the box over on the counter, and walked out. The box had a note pinned on it, ‘PLEASE SEND,’ and a two-dollar bill attached. Evidently the poisoner watched through the window from the sidewalk to see that the box was taken by the sending clerk.”
“Any description?” Mason asked.
“None whatever. It was while the place was jammed with late evening package deliveries. The clerk remembers she was a woman, and that’s all.”
“Or a man dressed in a woman’s clothes?”
“Not likely. I figure it’s a woman’s crime. Poison is a woman’s weapon, anyway. A man will use a gun, knife, or club.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Only those of Esther Dilmeyer. The poisoner wore gloves.”
“You’re certain of the identity of the paper with that at the Golden Horn?”
“Absolutely. What’s more, the label with the address glued on was typewritten in Lynk’s own office. His typewriter wrote the address, beyond any doubt.”
Mason frowned. “Damned strange,” he said. “Esther Dilmeyer could have told about that card and cleared Miss Faulkner.”
“You forget Esther was supposed to go to sleep and never wake up.”
“Yes. I guess that must have been it,” Mason agreed, but his voice showed he was dubious. “It’s a clumsy crime, and yet it isn’t... Lynk could have done it very easily.”
“Well,” Tragg said, “I think the murder is more important. This candy was sent by a woman who has access to various places in the Golden Horn. She knows very little about poisons, hates Esther Dilmeyer, and was there when the Faulkner orchids came in. The card dropped out. Perhaps Esther didn’t see it. This woman picked it up. When Esther wakes up, she’ll be able to give me the low-down. In the meantime, I want to get this murder cleaned up.”
“Well, don’t let me detain you.”
“You’re not,” Tragg said, smiling. “I’m just getting warmed up with you. I have some other questions to ask.”
“Go right ahead,” Mason said. “Take up all of my time you want. I haven’t a thing to do when you leave except make out a social security report, a workman’s compensation insurance report, and dig up some information the government wants on my income tax. Then I write the state about a social security question, and it will be time to go home. I wish someone could persuade the government its cut out of my income would be greater if it left me with a little time to do some work for myself.”
Tragg laughed. “I figured it out from the evidence I had that Mrs. Lawley was skipping out. I decided she hadn’t had sufficient time to pack up many of her personal belongings. I felt certain that she’d buy at least some articles of clothing because she’d be afraid to go back to the house.
“I thought she’d either go to her bank to get a check cashed, or to some department store where she had credit. I located her bank and her department store early this morning, and put a man on the job at each place. Now then, a short time ago a woman went into the department store where Mrs. Lawley has an account, and instead of buying something and having it charged as I had anticipated, went directly to the cashier’s window to have a travelers’ check cashed. The cashier gave the prearranged code signal which was to summon my man to the office. As it happened, I was in the store at the time. In some way, the woman got wise and beat it. Now then, Mason, here’s the significant thing. That woman wasn’t Carlotta Lawley.”
“You’re certain?” Mason asked, keeping his eyes away from Della Street.
“Yes. The signature on the check is a forgery. The woman’s description doesn’t answer that of Mrs. Lawley at all. Mrs. Lawley is older, has heart trouble, moves slowly, and is a little flabby. This girl was young, attractive, fast-moving, quick-thinking, alert, and on her toes.”
“Indeed,” Mason muttered.