The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

“I told him that if he’d give me two thousand dollars we’d call everything square. That Tom would continue to work for him for six weeks and then would take a six months layoff and then would come back to work for the pet store again; that if Tom worked out any inventions during the six months he was resting, Mr. Faulkner could have a half interest in them; that he and Tom would own them equally; that Faulkner would put Tom’s remedies on the market and he and Tom would split the net profits. They’d be sort of partners.”

“And what did Faulkner say?”

“He gave me the two thousand dollars and I surrendered the five thousand dollar check I had, and told him I’d go and see Tom and that I was certain it would be all right.”

“Are you aware of the fact that Tom went to see him at quarter past eight?”

“I don’t think Tom did.”

“I think there’s pretty good evidence he did.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about that, but I’m quite certain Tom didn’t go, because Tom had no reason to go. Tom had told me he’d leave everything in my hands.”

“And the two thousand dollars you got, you received in cash from Mr. Faulkner?”

“That’s right.”

Mason thought for a moment, then said, “All right, how about the gun?”

She said, “I’m sorry about the gun, Mr. Mason.”

“You should be.”

“It’s Tom’s gun.”

“I know.”

She said, “I have no idea how it got there, but when I went in the bedroom with Mrs. Faulkner — trying to comfort her, you know — I saw this gun on the dresser. I recognized it as Tom’s and... well, you know, I wanted to protect Tom. That was my first thought, my first instinctive reaction, and I just picked up the gun and shoved it into my purse. Knowing that a man had killed himself...”

“Been murdered,” Mason supplemented.

“Knowing a man had been murdered,” she went on, accepting his correction without protest, “I didn’t want Tom’s gun to be found on the place. I knew that Tom couldn’t have had anything to do with the murder, but I didn’t know how the gun had got there.”

“And that’s all?” Mason asked.

“I cross my heart and hope to die, Mr. Mason, that’s all.”

Mason said, “You told this story to the officers?”

“Yes.”

“What did they do?”

“They listened.”

“Did they question you?”

“Not much. A little bit.”

“Was there a shorthand reporter there?”

“Yes.”

“He took down everything you said in shorthand?”

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“Then they asked me if I had any objection to signing the statement and I told them certainly not, provided it was written up just the way I’d said it. They wrote out the statement and I signed it.”

“Did they tell you didn’t have to say anything?”

“Oh yes. They recited some rigamarole in a sing-song voice saying I didn’t have to say anything if I didn’t want to.”

“And that’s the way your story stands on paper?”

“Yes.”

Mason said, with a voice that was bitter with venom, “You little fool!”

“Why, what do you mean, Mr. Mason?”

Mason said, “Your story is so improbable on the face of it that it isn’t even a good fairy tale. It’s obviously something you thought up on the spur of the moment to protect Tom. But the officers were too smart to try to get you to change it right at the start. They reduced it to writing and got you to sign it. Now they’ll begin to bring pressure to bear on you so you’ll have to change it, and then you’ll be in a sweet mess.”

“But I don’t have to change it.”

“Think not?”

“No.”

“Where did this figure of two thousand dollars come from — the one that you submitted to Faulkner?”

“Why I thought that was just about a fair price.”

“You hadn’t mentioned it to him before?”

“No.”

“And Faulkner was shaving when you got there?”

“Yes.”

“Preparing to take a bath?”

“Yes.”

“He was in the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“He came out of the bathroom when you went in there — into the bedroom?”

“Well, yes.”

“Careful now,” Mason said. “Did he come out of the bathroom or did he receive you in the bathroom?”

“Well, sort of in the door of the bathroom.”

“And gave you two thousand dollars in cash?”

“Yes.”

Mason said, “You asked him for two thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

“And he had two thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly two thousand dollars?”

“Well... I don’t know. He may have had more, but he gave me the two thousand dollars.”

“In cash?”

“Certainly. That’s where the money came from that was in my purse.”

“And you found that gun of Tom Gridley’s at Faulkner’s house?”

“Yes. And if you want to know something, Mr. Faulkner was the one who took the gun there in the first place. Tom was keeping it at the pet store, and then yesterday evening about seven-thirty, Mr. Faulkner was down there prowling around, taking inventory, and... well, he took the gun. Mr. Rawlins can swear to that. He saw Mr. Faulkner take it.”

“Did you tell that to the police?”

“Yes.”

“That’s in your written statement?”

“Yes.”

Mason sighed. “Let’s look at it another way. When I left you with Sergeant Dorset, he said he was going to take you out to call on James Staunton.”

“That’s right.”

“Did he do so?”

“Yes.”

“How long were you there?”

“I don’t know. Some little time.”

“And Staunton still stuck to his story that Faulkner had brought the fish to him?”