The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Faulkner angrily inserted a key in the lock of the door, snapped back the catch, flung the door open, reached inside, switched on a light and marched truculently into the room.

Sally Madison placed a hand on Mason’s arm, said proudly, “This is Tom, Mr. Mason.”

Mason grinned, said, “How are you, Tom?” and extended his hand, which was wrapped in the grip of long, bony fingers.

Gridley said, “I’m glad to know you, Mr. Mason. I’ve heard so much about you that...”

He was interrupted by an exclamation from Harrington Faulkner. “Who’s been in here? What’s happened? Call the police!”

Mason pushed through the doorway and followed the direction of Harrington Faulkner’s angry eyes.

The tank which had been inserted in place of the china closet had been ripped from its fastenings and moved out to the extreme edge of a built-in sideboard. A chair had been placed in front of the sideboard, making a convenient step upon which some person had evidently stood. Water was splashed about on the waxed hardwood floor, and lying on the floor beside the chair was an ordinary long-handled silver soup ladle. To the handle of this ladle a four-foot section of broomstick had been attached so as to form a rude but effective extension.

The bottom of the goldfish tank contained an inch or two of small pebbles and sea shells with a few plants that stretched green shoots up toward the surface of the water. There was no sign of life in the tank.

“My fish!” Faulkner exclaimed, grasping the edges of the tank with his hands, pressing his face to within a few inches of the glass sides of the tank. “What’s happened to the fish? Where are they?”

“They seem to have disappeared,” Mason said dryly.

“I’ve been robbed!” Faulkner exclaimed. “It’s a low-down dastardly attempt by Elmer Carson to...”

“Careful now,” Mason warned.

“Careful!” Faulkner exploded. “Why should I be careful? You can see what’s happened with your own eyes. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. He’s removed the fish from the tank and intends to use that as a club to make me come to his terms... Hang it, it’s just the same as kidnaping. I don’t intend to stand for this. He’s gone too far now. I’m going to have him arrested! I’m going to get the police on the job and we’ll settle this thing right here and right now.”

Faulkner darted over to the telephone, snatched up the receiver, dialed Operator, and screeched into the mouthpiece, “Get me police headquarters quick! I want to report a burglary.”

Mason moved over to the telephone. “Look here, Faulkner,” he warned, “be careful what you say. You can call the police, tell them your story and let them reach any conclusions they want, but don’t go making accusations and don’t mention names. From a collector’s standpoint those fish of yours are probably of considerable value, but so far as the police are concerned, they’re just two more goldfish you...”

Faulkner motioned Mason to silence, said into the telephone in a voice that was tremulous with emotion, “I want police on the job right away. This is Harrington Faulkner. I’ve been robbed. My most priceless possession... Get the best detectives on the force out here right away.”

Mason moved back to join the others. “Let’s get out,” he said quietly. “If the police take this thing seriously they’ll want to take fingerprints.”

“Suppose they don’t take it seriously?” Drake asked.

Mason shrugged his shoulders.

Over at the telephone, Harrington Faulkner repeated his name, gave the address and hung up. “The police say to get everyone out of the room.” He fairly screeched in his excitement. “They told me...”

“I know, I know,” Mason interpolated soothingly. “I’ve just told everyone to get out and leave the place as it is.”

“You can come next door,” Faulkner said. “That’s where I live. We’ll wait there for the police.”

Faulkner ushered them out to the porch, across to the other door of the duplex house which he opened, and switched on lights. “My wife is out,” he explained, “but if you’ll just wait here... Make yourselves right at home, please. Just be seated. The police say it will only be a few minutes before they have a radio car out here.”

“How about the door to the other side of the house?” Mason asked. “You’d better see that it’s locked and that no one gets in until the police arrive.”

“There’s a spring lock on it. It locks when you pull the door shut.”

“You’re certain that the door was locked when you arrived?” Mason asked.

“Yes, yes. You saw me insert the key and open the door,” Faulkner said impatiently. “The door was locked and the lock hadn’t been tampered with.”

“How about the windows?” Drake asked. “Did you notice whether they were locked?”

“I noticed,” Mason said as Faulkner scowled in an effort to concentrate. “All the windows in that room at least were locked. How many rooms are in the place, Faulkner?”