The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

“Tighter than a drum. He won’t get back into circulation until after he’s made a complete written statement and sworn to it. By that time, he’ll have sewed himself up in a sack. He won’t dare to make any statement under any circumstances that would change the statement he gave the police.”

Once more, Mason resumed his pacing of the floor, then he said, “Put men out to watch Staunton’s house. As soon as the police let him get back into circulation, ask him one question.”

“What question?” Drake wanted to know.

Mason said, “Last Wednesday Faulkner took these fish out to him and told him to telephone the pet store and ask for treatment. Find out what time the pet store sent out the treatment tank.”

Drake showed surprise. “That’s all?”

“That’s all. There are other questions I’d like to ask him, but by the time the police get done with him, he won’t answer. So just ask him that one question. Today’s Saturday, and everything closes at noon. They’ll probably keep Gridley and Staunton sewed up until it’s too late to get any court orders. And the way things are now I don’t dare to ask for a habeas corpus on Tom Gridley.”

The telephone rang.

Della Street answered it, said, “It’s for you, Paul,” and handed the instrument over to Drake.

Drake said, “Hello... Okay, spill it... Right... You sure?... All right, give me everything you’ve got.”

Drake listened for nearly two minutes while the receiver continued to give forth a continuous rattle of crackling, metallic sounds.

At the end of that time, Drake said, “Okay, I guess there’s nothing much to do except keep a line on what’s happening and let me know.”

He hung up and turned to Perry Mason.

Mason took one look at the detective’s face and asked, “Is it that bad, Paul?”

Drake nodded.

“What is it?” Della Street asked.

“You lose,” Drake said.

“What?”

Drake said, “This is confidential, Perry. The police don’t want it to leak out, but I’ve got it straight from one who knows. They took Sally Madison into custody. They found the gun and the roll of bills in her purse. They fingerprinted the gun and got some excellent latents. There were two fingerprints on top of the barrel, not complete fingerprints, but nevertheless enough to enable the police to make an identification. Tragg is nobody’s fool. He closed up the room in the Kellinger Hotel, went to work on the bathroom mirrors and the doorknobs, got fingerprints of both Della Street and Sally Madison. Then he checked the prints on the gun. He found he had half a dozen fingerprints of Sally Madison, and two of Della Street. Then, after they’d photographed the gun, they turned it over to the ballistics department and fired a test bullet and compared that with the bullet they found in Faulkner’s body. There’s no question but what the gun they took from Sally Madison’s purse was the weapon with which the murder was committed. And there’s also no question but what that weapon belonged to Tom Gridley. It was a thirty-eight caliber revolver he’d purchased six years before when he was acting as messenger for a bank. The gun is registered with the police.”

Della Street looked up at Perry Mason. There was dismay in her eyes.

Mason said grimly, “All right, Paul. Put as many men on the job as are necessary to give it complete coverage. Find out where they’ve got Sally Madison held for inquiry if you can. Della, get out some blanks and fill out a writ of habeas corpus on behalf of Sally Madison.”

Drake said, “It won’t do you any good, Perry. They’ll have wrung her dry by this time. There’s no use trying to lock the stable after the horse has been stolen.”

“To hell with the stable,” Mason said. “There’s no time for that now. I’m going after the horse!”

12

Paul Drake was back in Perry Mason’s office within five minutes after he had left. He encountered the lawyer just leaving from the exit door of his private office.

“Where to?” Drake asked.

“Wilfred Dixon,” Mason told him. “I’m going to check up on Dixon and on the affairs of the first Mrs. Faulkner. He is her lawyer. What’s new? Anything important?”

Drake put his hand on Mason’s arm, drew Mason back into the inner office and closed the door. “Sometime during the night,” he said, “an attempt was made to get that goldfish tank out of the office. It sure looks as though you called the turn on that business, Perry.”

“Just when was the attempt made?”

“Police don’t know. For some reason or other, they never looked into the other side of the duplex house, but confined their investigations to Faulkner’s residence. Then, this morning, when Alberta Stanley, the secretary, opened up the real estate office, she found the place something of a wreck. There was a long rubber hose which had evidently been used to syphon the water out of the empty goldfish tank. That is, it was empty of goldfish.”

Mason nodded.

“After the water was syphoned out, the goldfish tank had been tipped over on its side and all of the mud and gravel in the bottom had been scooped out and left in a pile on the floor.”