The Case of the Queenly Contestant

The lawyer held the wrist for a moment, then let the arm drop back.

“She’s been dead for some time,” he said. “Rigor mortis has formed and disappeared. There’s postmortem lividity. It’s a job for the police.”

Ellen Adair pushed past Della Street, grabbed Perry Mason by the arm. “Oh, Mr. Mason, do something! For heaven’s sake, we can’t take a beating in this thing!”

Mason said, “Get back out of the way. You can’t bring a person back to life just because you want her testimony.”

“Oh, my God! This is terrible!” Ellen said, letting go of Mason’s arm, turning toward the door, stumbling over the body, trying to catch her balance, grabbing hold of the dresser. Then as she saw her feet were touching the legs of the dead woman she started screaming.

Mason grabbed her, said to Della Street, “Get her out of here! Don’t let her touch anything, Della!”

The lawyer swung Ellen Adair toward Della Street, but Ellen once more stumbled, grabbed the side of the door, then hung onto Della Street, crying and moaning.

“I think she’s going to have hysterics,” Della Street said.

“She can’t have hysterics,” Mason said. “I want to take a quick look, but I don’t want to touch anything. We can’t... Watch her, Della!”

“Let me out of here!” Ellen screamed, breaking away from Della and making a stumbling, zigzag, flying course for the front door, which she opened.

Della Street said to Mason, “She’s hysterical. We can’t let her go running around...”

Mason sprinted after Ellen Adair, caught her at the foot of the front steps, said, “Sit down and control yourself!”

Ellen started to scream. The lawyer clapped his hand over her mouth, pulled her down on the cement steps.

“Sit down!” he repeated.

She looked at him with wide, panic-stricken eyes and once more tried to scream.

Mason said, “Della, there’s a service station three blocks down the street with a telephone. Get to it and call the police, then come back here. I’ll hold Ellen until you can get back.”

The lawyer turned to the hysterical woman.

“Now shut up!” he said. “Don’t make a lot of commotion and attract the attention of everyone in the neighborhood. We’re dealing with what is, in all probability, a murder, and I want you to keep your head.”

Della Street hurried down the short stretch of cement walk, jumped in the car, turned on the motor, and shot away from the curb.

Mason said to Ellen, “Now I’m going to take my hand away and I don’t want you screaming. The police are going to come here, and I don’t want you to tell the police why we were calling on Agnes Burlington. I particularly don’t want you to say anything about ever at any time having paid Agnes Burlington any money to keep quiet about anything. Do you understand?”

The wide, panic-stricken eyes searched Mason’s face.

The lawyer removed his hand from Ellen Adair’s mouth.

“Do you understands?” Mason said. “Let me do the talking!”

Ellen Adair took a deep breath. “This is such a shock!” she said; then her body stiffened. “I think I’m going to faint.”

Mason pushed her shoulders forward. “Put your head down between your knees,” he said.

Ellen lurched against Mason.

The lawyer pushed on her shoulders, guided her head down to her knees.

“Sit there, Ellen. Try not to think about what you’ve seen. Think about what we are going to have to do now.”

Ellen’s body became limp.

Mason supported it for a matter of a full minute before, gradually, the muscles responded. Ellen breathed a tremulous breath, raised herself, looked at Mason. Then her eyes became wide with panic once more.

“Easy,” Mason said. “The police will be corning any minute now. You’ve got to pull yourself together! Remember the police can’t keep information of this sort confidential. They’ll be reporting that the body was discovered by Perry Mason, his secretary and a client. The newspaper reporters will pick it up. They’ll want to know who you are; they’ll want to know what your business with me is; they’ll find out all about the Cloverville background. Maxine will come forward with her story. The police will search the premises here. Maybe Agnes kept a diary. They’ll get the names of her friends. Maybe Agnes talked. She probably has a boyfriend somewhere. She may have confided in him at length.

“We’ve got to keep ourselves in such a position that we can be prepared no matter which way the cat jumps. You’ve too much at stake to go feminine on me now. Get yourself together!”

Ellen took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Mason said, “Here comes a car and... it’s stopping... It’s Della.”

Della Street had pulled the car into the curb and just opened the door to disembark when a police car swung around the corner, glided to the curb. A red spotlight illuminated Della Street. An officer said, “Hold it, lady!”

Della froze.

Mason said, “Now sit tight, Ellen,” and arose from the step.

“This way, Officer,” Mason called.

An officer jumped from the car, came toward the sound of Mason’s voice.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Perry Mason,” the lawyer said.

“Who’s the girl?”