The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

“Well, let’s suppose her death wasn’t suicidal, and let’s suppose it wasn’t accidental,” Mason said.

She looked at him steadily. “That leaves murder.”

“That leaves murder.”

Her face remained absolutely expressionless. Her lips were clamped together.

“You’re not saying anything,” Mason told her.

“And I’m not going to say anything.”

Mason got to his feet and shook hands with her. “Well, I’m glad to have been of some service, and I’m glad you made your compromise, Mrs. Kempton.”

James Etna grabbed Mason’s hand and pumped his arm up and down. “I can’t ever thank you enough both on behalf of my client and for myself. I... well, I just can’t begin to tell you how much it has meant to both of us.”

“Quite all right,” Mason said. “I was glad to do it for you.”

“Well, you’ve certainly been nice.”

“By the way,” Mrs. Kempton said, “I missed some things out there myself. Would you mind telling me what was found in that collection of stuff in the urn, if you know? Was there a pearl earring that matches this?”

She held out an earring and Della Street nodded emphatically.

“There was the mate to that earring,” she said. “I remember noticing it particularly, and noticing the way the pearls were put together in a little cluster.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Kempton said. “I’m so glad! My mother had those earrings and... well, I felt terrible when one of them was missing. I...”

“Did you report that it was missing?” Mason asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Well, I thought — I don’t know. Live and let live is my motto, and I didn’t want to do anything that was going to upset things.”

“You thought you had lost it?”

“I knew I hadn’t lost it, because they had both of them been in my jewel case, and when I went to put them on just one of them was left.”

“So you thought someone had taken it?”

“Well, I... I didn’t know.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No.”

“Well,” Mason said, “it was in the bunch of stuff that was there in the urn. I remember seeing a pearl earring, and Miss Street seems quite positive it’s the mate to that one.”

“I am positive,” Della said.

“Thank you so much,” Mrs. Kempton said, and gave them the benefit of her patient, quite smile.

James Etna looked as though he wanted to shake hands all over again. “This is one of the most interesting experiences I’ve ever had, Mr. Mason. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, and to think that you would help me out on a case of this sort — it means a lot, Mr. Mason. I appreciate it.”

“Glad to do whatever I could,” Mason said.

They left the office. Della Street looked at Perry Mason.

“Well?” she asked.

“This little playmate of ours,” Mason told her.

“You mean Fate?”

Mason nodded.

“What’s Fate doing now?”

“I think,” he said, “that there was some reason why I was attracted to those diaries of Helen Cadmus.”

“All right,” she said, “Fate wanted you to do Mrs. Josephine Kempton a good turn, and you’ve done it. If you ask me, I’ll bet that five thousand dollar fee meant a lot to that young lawyer.”

“Probably so,” Mason said, “but I still don’t think we have the answer.”

“I don’t see why not. You’ve cleared everything up and... oh, I see, you’re thinking about the disappearance of Helen Cadmus?”

“I’m thinking about the disappearance of Helen Cadmus.”

“You don’t think it was suicide?”

Mason said, “I can’t get over a feeling in the back of my mind that it could have been murder.”

“Good heavens, Chief, there’s only one person who could have murdered her, and that was Benjamin Addicks.”

“Or her friend Nathan Fallon,” Mason said. “Don’t forget him.”

“And,” Della Street said, and paused.

“Yes,” Mason said, smiling, “go ahead.”

Della Street shook her head.

Mason’s smile broadened.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “I hate myself for even entertaining the thought, but if you’re starting to figure out a murder case... well, you can’t overlook the woman who had the adjoining stateroom, who had an opportunity to enter Helen’s stateroom at any time by going through the bathroom, who said she had taken medicine that had drugged her all night — good Lord, Chief, what a horrid, nasty mind I’m getting, working for a cynical lawyer!”

“What a fine, logical mind you’re getting,” Mason corrected.

“Chief! You don’t suspect her?”

“In a murder case,” Mason said, “one suspects everyone.”

“But you don’t know it’s a murder case.”

“No,” Mason said, “and sometimes I wonder if I wasn’t supposed to find out. I wonder somehow if people don’t leave behind them a sort of telepathic thought that can attach itself to someone’s mind.”

“Or if you’re a spiritist,” Della Street said, “you can think that perhaps Helen Cadmus, knowing your ability to ferret out the truth in a case, had been giving you a subconscious urge, perhaps...”

“Quit it,” Mason said, grinning, “or I’ll be going to see a medium.”

“Well,” Della Street said seriously, “under the circumstances, it would be interesting to see what a medium would say.”

“I think a good deal of that is mental telepathy,” Mason said. “She might read my mind and confuse the issues.”