The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

“He told Rawlins that Rawlins was working for him, and that he didn’t want to hear any criticism. So Rawlins then proceeded to quit his job and tell Faulkner just what he thought of him.”

“What did Faulkner do?”

“He didn’t even get mad. He picked up the telephone and asked to have a taxicab sent around to the pet shop. Rawlins raved and sputtered, called Faulkner just about everything he could lay his tongue to, but Faulkner just waited until the taxicab came, then picked up his satchel, tucked the can of medicated paste under his arm and walked out, with the revolver still in his hip pocket.”

“I suppose police have located the cab driver?” Mason asked.

Drake nodded, said, “The cab driver took Faulkner to the residence of the consulting chemist. Faulkner told him to wait. He was in there about fifteen minutes, then Faulkner drove to his house. It was then just a little after eight o’clock. Apparently, Faulkner immediately started to undress, take a bath, shave and get ready to go to that meeting at eight-thirty.”

“No dinner?” Mason asked.

“That meeting of the fish experts was a dinner,” Drake said. “They were having a little banquet and some talks afterwards by some experts on fish breeding. That ties together, Perry. It ties right up to the time that someone entered the house, apparently without knocking, and the chap to whom Faulkner was telephoning heard Faulkner tell that party to get out. At first the police thought it was Tom Gridley, but Tom’s come pretty clean with them. He’s satisfied the police. The police know now that it was Sally Madison. No one will ever know exactly what happened there. Sally Madison entered, Faulkner tried to put her out, that much is certain. Sally admits it. Remember that Faulkner had a satchel containing twenty-five thousand dollars, which was probably in the bedroom. He also had Tom Gridley’s gun. It must have been lying on the bed or on the dresser. Faulkner’s coat, tie and shirt were spread over a chair where he had peeled out of them in a hurry. The gun had been in his hip pocket. Naturally, he took it out and put it somewhere.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully.

“Put yourself in Sally Madison’s place,” Drake went on. “Faulkner had robbed the man she loved. He had been guilty of despicable business practices. Sally was fighting mad and she was desperate. Faulkner was pushing her out when she saw the gun lying there. She grabbed it. Faulkner was frightened, he ran back to the bathroom and tried to close the door. Sally pulled the trigger — then probably, for the first time, she realized the enormity of what she had done. She looked around. She saw the satchel on the bed. She opened it. There was twenty-five thousand dollars in it. That meant a lot to her. It meant an opportunity to escape. It meant an opportunity to cure Tom Gridley of tuberculosis. She took two thousand dollars in fifties for get-by money. The big bills she hid somewhere because she was afraid to try to monkey with those big bills while the heat was on.”

“It’s a pretty theory,” Mason said, “but that’s all it is — a theory. Plausible, but just a theory.”

Drake shook his head. “I’m not telling you the worst of it, Perry. Not yet.”

“Well, get on,” Mason demanded irritably. “Tell me the worst of it!”

“I wanted you to get the sketch before I told you the one point that changes it from a theory to a fact.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Police found the empty satchel under the bed. The satchel which the bank teller identifies as the one that held the twenty-five thousand dollars. Of course, when the police first found it last night, they didn’t know that it had any particular significance, but they were grabbing fingerprints off of everything, and so they dusted the handle of that satchel. They found three latent prints on it. Two of them were prints of Harrington Faulkner’s right hand. The third one was the right middle finger of Sally Madison’s hand. That’s the story, Perry. That’s the story in a nutshell. I have a tip that the district attorney is going to give you a chance to let Sally Madison plead guilty to second-degree murder or perhaps manslaughter. He recognizes the fact that Faulkner had been a first-class heel and that there’d been a lot of provocation for the crime. Furthermore, now that he knows Faulkner was the one who took Tom Gridley’s gun from the pet shop, he knows that Sally must have seen the gun lying on the bed and acted on the spur of the moment. So there you are, Perry. There’s the thing in a nutshell. I’m no lawyer, but if you can cop a plea for manslaughter, you’d better jump at it.”

Mason said, “If Sally’s fingerprint was on that satchel, we’re licked — that is, if the satchel was under the bed.”

“Are you going to try and get a plea?” Drake asked anxiously.

“I don’t think so,” Mason said.

“Why not, Perry? It’s the best thing you can do for your client.”