The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

“It must have been four or five minutes. Staunton came back and stood looking at the fish. He seemed to be thinking of something — turning it over in his mind. Then he went back and switched out the light. We waited there a few minutes after he’d turned out the light. Of course, he could have deliberately fooled us. I felt certain that if he had been going to telephone somebody, he’d have done the telephoning right then.”

Drake said, “Well, we know that Mrs. Faulkner was out there watching. And you must be pretty certain that she upset that bowl of goldfish within, say, ten or fifteen minutes of the time you got there.”

Mason said, “Of course, the other goldfish were dead, Paul. Only the one that I picked up had just a little life in him.”

“All right, have it any way you want,” Drake said. “The one goldfish was alive. Someone must have put that one goldfish on the floor.”

Mason said thoughtfully, “There was a curved segment of the broken fish bowl that still had a little water left in it. I remember noticing that at the time, and I noticed it on one of the photographs this morning. Now, I’m wondering if that one fish couldn’t have been in that segment that had a little water in it, and then flopped out.”

“That, of course, would mean that the goldfish bowl could have been knocked over a long time before,” Drake said. “Perhaps when Faulkner was murdered, right around eight-fifteen or eight-twenty.”

“I wonder if a goldfish could live that long in such a small amount of water.”

“Darned if I know,” Drake said. “Want me to get a goldfish and try it?”

“I have an idea you’d better,” Mason said.

“Okay. I’ll phone my office and ask them to make the goldfish experiment.”

Perry Mason looked at his wrist watch, said, “Well, I guess we’ve got to go back and take it on the chin some more. Lieutenant Tragg will probably be on the stand this afternoon, and Tragg is a smooth worker. How much of a mining deal was it that Staunton had with Faulkner, Paul?”

“I don’t know, Perry,” Paul Drake said, holding open the door of the dining room. “I may get a little more information later on in the afternoon.”

“I don’t imagine I’d have cared to have Faulkner as a partner in a mining deal,” Della Street said.

“Or in anything else,” Drake observed fervently.

They walked slowly back to the courthouse, and as Judge Summerville reconvened court at two o’clock, Ray Medford, with every indication of smug virtue, said, “I want the record to show that at this time we are turning over to counsel for the defense, for his inspection, three magazines which were found on the floor of the bathroom where the murder was committed. By carefully observing photographs which were taken and using a magnifying glass to bring out details, we are able to state that the magazines as now handed to counsel for the defense are in the order in which they were found on the floor.”

Mason took the proffered magazines and said, “Calling the attention of the Court to the fact that the magazine which was on top, and which bears a peculiar semi-circular ink smear, is a current issue, while the bottom two are older numbers.”

“Do you think there’s some significance in that?” Medford asked curiously.

“I do,” Mason said.

Medford started to ask some question, then caught himself in time and regarded Mason with thoughtful speculation as the attorney opened the magazine and riffled the pages.

“Our next witness will be Lieutenant Tragg,” Medford said, “and...”

“Just a moment,” Mason interrupted. “I call the attention of Court and counsel to a check which I have just discovered in the pages of this magazine which was on the top of the pile, a blank check which has not been filled in any way, a check bearing the imprint of the Seaboard Mechanics National Bank.”

Judge Summerville showed his interest. “That blank check was in the magazine, Mr. Mason?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

Judge Summerville looked at Medford. “You have noticed the check, Counselor?”

Medford said, casually, “I think somebody did mention something about a book mark in one of the magazines.”

“A book mark?” Mason asked.

“If it is a book mark,” Judge Summerville said, “it might be interesting to note the place in the magazine where it was found.”

“On page seventy-eight,” Mason said, “which seems to be a continuation of a romantic story.”

“I’m quite certain it has no significance,” Medford said easily. “It was simply a blank check which had been used as a book mark.”

“Just a moment,” Mason said. “Has any attempt been made to get fingerprints from this check?”

“Certainly not.”

“Your Honor, I want this check tested for latent fingerprints,” Mason said.

“Go ahead and test it, then,” Medford snapped.

Mason’s eyes showed that he was excited, but with the ring generalship which had been learned from many courtroom battles, his voice showed no trace of emotion, only that clear resonance which enabled him to hold a courtroom completely spellbound without seeming to raise his voice.