The Case of the Queenly Contestant

“So now, while we have the time, we’ve got to run down every possible lead that we can in order to find something that we can translate into a reasonable doubt. The police are going to be uncovering evidence, and they’re not going to share that evidence with us until they have to. They certainly aren’t going to take us into their confidence.”

“Do you,” she asked, “want the diary?”

Mason said, “I’m an officer of the court. I couldn’t suppress evidence. I couldn’t have a diary in my possession for ten seconds without telling the police that I had it.

“On the other hand, as an officer of the court, I am obligated to protect your confidences. You tell me that you have the diary. I can advise you to surrender that diary to the police. But if you don’t choose to follow my advice, there’s nothing I can do about it except keep quiet. I have a professional obligation to respect your confidence.

“Now, then, what about your son?”

“What do you mean?”

“The officers are going to find out about him. What kind of an impression will he make?”

“A very fine impression, Mr. Mason. He’s a nice, well-mannered young man. He...”

“Where’s he living?”

“He’s living in the old Baud home. After Melinda and August were killed he inherited all their property, and he has been living on there in the house.”

“O.K.,” Mason said, getting up with an air of finality, “we’re going to go call on your son, and let’s hope we beat the police to it.”

Mason nodded to Della Street. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirteen

Ellen Adair, who had been giving Mason driving directions, said, “Turn to the right at this next corner, and it’s the house in the middle of the block.”

“You think your son will be home?” the lawyer asked.

“He should be.”

“And he knows you as...”

“He knows the truth now, but for years he thought I was just a friend of the family, related in some way to the Bairds. He never asked too much about details. He took the relationship for granted and called me ‘Aunt Ellen.’ ”

“All right,” Mason said, “let’s hope he’s home.”

“He will be. He’ll be studying. He has an examination coming up and... Here’s the place.”

The lawyer slid the car beside the curb.

“All right, let’s go. Remember — you say absolutely nothing at any time that would indicate you had been to see Agnes Burlington twice today. You are never, under any circumstances, to tell any human being the things you have told us. All right, now; let’s go up and take a look at this boy.”

They left the car, walked up the cement walk and past the well-kept lawn.

“Who does the work here?” Mason asked. “Your son?”

“I think he hires it done. There’s a gardener. There’s a lot of yard work, you know, and, after all, Wight is busy with his studies.”

Ellen Adair pushed her thumb against the bell button, giving a series of short, sharp rings, then a long ring, then two short rings.

She smiled at Mason. “We have a code so he’ll know who’s at the door.”

They waited for some fifteen seconds and then Ellen Adair said, “Why, that’s strange. He must be home. His car is in the driveway.”

“That his car?” Mason asked, indicating a low-slung sports car.

“Yes.”

“That’s an expensive car,” Mason observed.

“He is very modern, Mr. Mason, and — well, the Bairds left him this money. He... I can’t understand what’s delaying him.”

She pressed the button again, a series of short, sharp rings, then a long ring and a couple of short rings.

Della Street exchanged glances with Perry Mason.

Abruptly from the back of the house a man’s voice called, “Whoo-hoo, I’m coming,” and then a few moments later the door was swung open and a well-built, good-looking young man said, “Aunt Ellen — Mom! What brings you here at this time of night?”

Ellen Adair said, “Wight, I want you to meet Perry Mason, the famous attorney; and this is Della Street, his confidential secretary.”

Wight Baird regarded his visitors with open-mouthed amazement. “Gosh,” he said, “the famous lawyer! What’s all this about?”

Ellen said, “We’re coming in, Wight. We have to talk with you about a matter of great importance.”

“Is all this about the will?” Wight asked.

“Yes.”

“Gee, Mom, is Mr. Mason going to be on our side?”

“He’s going to be on our side,” Ellen said, “but there are lots of complications.”

“I’ll bet,” Wight said. “You get to kicking a couple of million bucks around and there’ll be lots of complications. Come on in.”

He led the way into a living room.

“You were quite a while answering the bell,” Ellen said.

Wight said, “I called out just as soon as you rang the bell.”

“Then you didn’t hear it the first time?”

“You mean you rang twice?”

“Yes.”

“Gosh, no. Aunt Ellen — Mom — I didn’t hear it the first time.”

The sound of a motor starting came from the driveway.

Wight said, somewhat hastily, “I’m cramming for an exam. I’ve been holding my nose to the grindstone all afternoon and evening. I’m about all in. Forgive me if I seem a little dopey. What’s new, Aunt — Mom? Why are you coming here at this hour of the night with Mr. Mason and his secretary?”