The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

“Not in so many words,” Della Street agreed, “but it’s all there in between the lines. For some reason she avoided really confiding to her diary, but she unmistakably disclosed her moods. People who are in love talk about the beautiful things of nature, beauty in the spring of the year and in the spring of the heart.”

“Della, you’re getting poetic!”

“I’m being logical.”

“Do you keep a diary yourself?”

Her face flushed furiously. “And, another thing,” she went on quickly, “she hated Nathan Fallon.”

“Who doesn’t?” Mason asked.

“Nathan Fallon.”

Mason threw back his head and laughed.

Della smiled and said, “She loved animals and she was strongly attached to this one monkey named Pete. She resented the experiments Benjamin Addicks was conducting with animals.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Addicks was experimenting along modem lines, trying to make animals neurotic. And he had some peculiar ideas about hypnotism. Apparently he felt that a man could not be put into such a deep hypnotic trance that he would do something that would outrage his higher moral sense, but he felt that gorillas were so closely related to man that they could be hypnotized, and taught to commit a homicide.

“I’m damned if I know what point Addicks was trying to prove. I have a feeling there’s something in his past. He may have been in serious trouble, may have committed a crime and felt that he did it under the hypnotic influence of some person.”

“It’s a nightmarish background for a secretarial job,” Della Street said. “Addicks is wealthy, but that doesn’t give him any excuse to torture animals.”

Mason nodded. “Apparently Helen Cadmus felt the same way at first. Then she seems to have changed. She certainly referred to Addicks with great respect and seemed to feel there was something important back of his experiments.”

“And then she was murdered,” Della Street said.

“Don’t say that, Della. There’s no proof.”

“Well, I have an intuitive feeling, a very definite feeling she didn’t commit suicide.”

Mason said, “There’s another interesting angle in the volume of the diary that I read. It interests me very much, Della.”

“What?”

“This monkey, Pete, that she was so fond of, developed a habit of making off with her little knickknacks, anything that he saw her admiring. Her compact, her lipstick, her earrings — he’d take them and hide them. Apparently his favorite hiding place was a Grecian urn in the reception hall— Della, I have a hunch. Who’s the attorney representing Mrs. Josephine Kempton in that suit against Addicks?”

“I’ll look it up,” Della Street said. “It’s in the outer office.”

She was gone for about three minutes. When she came back she handed a typed slip of paper to Mason on which had been written, “James Etna, of the firm of Etna, Etna and Douglas.”

As Mason consulted the memo, she said, “I’m afraid I led with my chin, Chief.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I went out in the outer office the board was clattering away at a great rate, so I plugged in to explain that it was after office hours, that there was no one here to answer the phone, and... well, I found myself talking with Mortimer Hershey, the business manager of Benjamin Addicks. He wanted very much to arrange a conference between you and Mr. Addicks.”

“What did you tell him?” Mason asked.

“I told him that I would have to get in touch with you and consult your appointment book. Then he explained to me that Mr. Addick’s couldn’t come to your office because he’d been injured.”

“Injured?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Any more details?”

“That was all. He said that Mr. Addicks was injured and couldn’t come to your office, but that he felt it would be very much to your advantage to see Mr. Addicks. I told him that I’d have to try to get in touch with you and call him back.”

Mason said, “Just a chance, Della, put through a call to Etna, Etna and Douglas.”

“There won’t be anyone there at this hour.”

“One of the partners might be working late. After all, Della, you know we work late.”

“Darned if we don’t,” she said. She picked up the telephone, dialed a number, then after a moment said, “May I ask who this is talking?... This is Mr. Mason’s office, Mr. Perry Mason... That’s right, the attorney... Oh, it is?... Well, I’m sorry to be bothering you at this hour but Mr. Mason was anxious to get in touch with Mr. James Etna. Just hang on please.”

Della Street motioned toward Mason and switched over the connection on her desk telephone. “Another night owl,” she said. “He’s working late on a case.”

Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Hello. This is Perry Mason speaking. Is this James Etna?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re attorney for Mrs. Josephine Kempton in a suit against Benjamin Addicks?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“I find myself taking an interest in that case,” Mason said.

“Whom are you representing?” Etna asked in a coldly cautious tone of voice.

“No one. I’m simply interested in it.”