The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

“Well, for instance, Addicks would disappear. One of the members of the yacht crew told me that. He was sore at Addicks because Addicks fired him.

“He said lots of times when Addicks was supposed to be cruising, he’d actually get aboard, then get off at the last minute and have the yacht cruise around when he wasn’t aboard.

“The yacht had a ship to shore phone, and Addicks would telephone the yacht’s captain and give him instructions as to where to sail and all that. Then they’d anchor at Catalina, and first thing anyone would know there would be Addicks, pretending he’d been aboard all the time, shut up in his stateroom, working.”

Mason pursed his lips. “Who was in on it, Paul?”

“Just the captain, and the captain’s as close-mouthed as a clam.”

Mason thought that over, then said suddenly, “All right, Paul, he was calling long distance. He must have placed his calls collect.

“Here’s what you do. By hook or crook get hold of the telephone bills on that ship’s telephone, start tracing the numbers that he called from. Let’s find out where he was when he was hiding from both Fallon and Hershey — do you suppose it was a woman, Paul?”

“Apparently he didn’t have any,” Drake said, “but he certainly was a great boy for cash transactions, and my own idea is he was slipping something over on the income tax department.”

“You’ve got some photos of him?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Well, check on those phone bills and see what you can find out.”

“All right,” Drake said. “Now here’s another thing. He...”

Drake was interrupted by a low, insistent knock at the door.

Della Street opened the door a crack, looked out, then pulled the door back and said, “Good morning. You folks are a little early.”

Etna and Josephine Kempton walked through the doorway.

Mason introduced them to Paul Drake, said to Etna, “How’s everything coming?”

“Coming fine,” Etna said triumphantly. “We’re sitting pretty, Mason.”

Mrs. Kempton nodded and beamed. “They couldn’t have been nicer to me.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of a story did you tell them?” he asked suspiciously.

“I didn’t tell them anything. I did just as you instructed me.”

Mason studied her face for a few moments, then abruptly said to Paul Drake, “I’m sorry, Paul, but we’re going to have to ask you to leave. It’s not that we don’t trust your discretion, but it has been held that a client who has a discussion with her attorney in the presence of a third person waives the benefit of the statutory provisions making such conversation absolutely confidential — Della, of course, as my secretary, is included within the scope of the statute, but you aren’t.”

“That’s fine,” Drake said. “Maybe I can get myself a little breakfast. I’m so damned tired of coffee and ham sandwiches bolted in between telephone calls. I’ll go down and have a real meal off a table.”

Drake left the room.

Mason turned to Etna and Mrs. Kempton. “Sit down,” he said. “Now, Mrs. Kempton, I want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

“I told you the truth.”

Mason shook his head.

“Mr. Mason,” she said indignantly, “do you think I would lie?”

Mason said, “I know the police. I know how they work. You were alone in that house with a murdered man. You refuse to tell anyone what you know, and yet you claim that the police turned you loose.”

“That’s right. They did. They even sent up to my room and got clothes for me.”

“How’s that?” Mason said.

“Well, they told me that it was necessary to have my clothes gone over carefully by a laboratory man, that they always did that in cases where a witness had been present, at a murder, that it was a matter of routine. They said it would be tomorrow sometime before I could have my clothes back, and that there was no need of waiting there if I didn’t want to, that they’d send the matron up to my room and she could get the clothes for me if I’d tell her what I wanted to wear.”

“They did that?”

“Yes.”

“You gave them a key to your room?”

“It was in my envelope — they take everything away from you and put it in an envelope.”

“And you signed something saying it would be all right for her to go in the room?”

“That’s right.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then they brought me my clothes. Everyone was just as nice as pie. They told me they were sorry they had had to hold me, that they had now found out all about who murdered Mr. Addicks and that I was absolutely in the clear.”

“Who told you that?”

“The matron.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Well,” she said, “they asked me what I wanted to do, and I told them I wanted to call you.”

“When was that?”

“That was early this morning.”

“Go ahead.”

“It seems that no one knew how to reach you before you came to the office, but Mr. Etna had a phone in his residence. I knew that he’d be up so I told them it would be all right to call him.”

“And he came and got you?” Mason asked.

“That’s right.”

Mason looked at Etna. Etna nodded.

“From the detention cells?” Mason asked.

“Well, not exactly,” Etna said. “I picked her up in the garage downstairs.”

“The garage?”

“Yes.”

“What garage?”

“The police garage, where they...”