The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Has it occurred to the police as yet that someone was looking for that bullet Faulkner carried into the office?”

“You can’t tell, Perry. It hasn’t occurred to Sergeant Dorset, but you never know what Lieutenant Tragg is working on. Dorset shoots off his mouth to the newspaper boys and tries to get publicity. Tragg is smooth as velvet. He kids the boys along and prefers results to publicity.”

“Anything else?” Mason asked.

Drake said, “I hate to do this, Perry.”

“Do what?”

“Be hanging crepe all over things, but it’s one of those cases where every bit of information you get is the kind you don’t want.”

“Shoot,” Mason told him.

“You remember Faulkner had a reputation of being a man who would skin the other fellow in a business deal. He kept within his own standards of honesty but he was completely ruthless.”

Mason nodded.

“Well, it seems that Faulkner was really anxious to get hold of that formula that Tom Gridley had developed for the treatment of gill disease. You remember he bought out Rawlins’ pet shop? — That was the first move in his campaign. Then, it turns out that Tom Gridley had mixed up a batch of his paste which was to be painted on plastic panels that were to be introduced into fish tanks. The trouble with Gridley is that he gets so interested in what he’s doing and... well, he’s just like a doctor. He wants to effect cures and doesn’t care too much about the financial end of things.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“Well, it seems that yesterday evening, Faulkner, who had, of course, got the combination of the safe from Rawlins, went down to the pet store, opened the safe, took out the can of paste that Gridley had mixed up and sent it to a chemist to be analyzed. Rawlins was there and tried to stop him but it was no soap.”

“Faulkner certainly was a heel,” Mason said.

“According to the police, it furnishes a swell motivation for a murder.”

Mason thought the matter over and nodded his head. “Academically it’s bad. Practically it isn’t so bad.”

“You mean the way a jury will look at it?”

“Yes. It’s one of those things that you can play up strong to a jury. While technically it’s a motivation for murder, it’s such a flagrant example of oppression by a man who has money and power, who’s picking on a chap in his employ... No, Paul, that isn’t at all bad. I presume the theory of the police is that when Gridley found out about it he became terribly angry, took his gun and went up to kill Faulkner.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

Mason smiled and said, “I don’t think Tragg will hold to that theory very long.”

“Why not?”

“Because the evidence is against it.”

“What do you mean? It’s Gridley’s gun, there’s no question of that.”

“Sure, it’s Gridley’s gun,” Mason said. “But mind you this: If the circumstantial evidence means what the police think it means, Tom Gridley effected a settlement with Faulkner. He may have gone up there intending to kill him, but Faulkner gave him a check for a thousand dollars. Faulkner wouldn’t have done that unless he had reached some sort of a settlement with Gridley. Gridley certainly couldn’t have killed him before the check was made out, and would have had no reason to have killed him afterwards.”

“That’s right,” Drake said.

“The minute Faulkner died, that check, and also the five thousand dollar check that Sally Madison has, weren’t worth the paper they were written on. You can’t cash a check after a man dies. I have an idea, Paul, that you’ll find Lieutenant Tragg begins to think this motive isn’t as simple as it appears to be on the surface. Hang it, if it weren’t for the evidence against Sally Madison and the fact that Della Street’s fingerprints are on that gun, we’d sit tight and tell the police to go jump in the lake. As it is, I’ve got to find out all the facts and be the first one to get the correct interpretation.”

“Suppose Sally Madison bumped him off?”

“Then,” Mason said, “the police have a perfect case against Della Street and me as being accessories after the fact.”

“Think they’ll press it?”

“You know damn well they’ll press it,” Mason said. “They’d like nothing better.”

“Well, of course,” Drake pointed out, “you can’t blame them. You certainly do skate on thin ice, Perry. You’ve been a thorn in the flesh of the police for a long time.”

Mason nodded, “I’ve had it coming to me once or twice,” he admitted, “but what makes me sore is to think that they’d really hang it on me in a case where we were absolutely innocent and only trying to help a young fellow who had T.B. get enough money to take treatments that would cure him. What have you found out about Dixon, anything?”

Drake said, “Dixon is really a deep one. Don’t make any mistake about him, Perry.”

“Have the police been after him?”