Drake stepped from the window to stand between her and the door.
She screamed.
Mason said, “Hold it.”
She whirled, at the sound of his voice, back to face him. She stared steadily for a moment, then said simply, “Oh.”
Mason said, “I’m an attorney. This man is a detective. In other words, we’re not thieves. Who are you?”
“How… how did you get in?”
“Walked in,” Mason said. “The door was unlocked and slightly ajar.”
“It was locked just now when I… when I…” She gulped as her voice caught in her throat, laughed nervously, and said, “This has knocked me for a loop. What’s it all about?”
She was in the late twenties or early thirties, a striking brunette with jaunty clothes which set off her figure to advantage, and she wore those clothes with an air of chic individuality. Her face had been drained of color, and the pattern of the orange rouge showed clearly against the pasty white of her skin.
“Do you,” Mason asked, “happen to live here?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re…”
“Mrs. Tidings,” she said.
“Does your husband live here?”
“I don’t know why you’re asking me these questions. What do you want here anyway? What right did you have breaking in?”
“We didn’t break in,” Drake said. “We…”
“We just walked in,” Mason assured her, keeping Drake out of the conversation by interruption. “I think it will be to your advantage to answer that question, Mrs. Tidings. Does your husband live here?”
“No. We’ve separated.”
“Didn’t you patch up your differences recently?”
“No.”
“Weren’t there negotiations looking toward that?”
“No,” she said, and then added with defiance in her voice, “—if it’s any of your business, which it isn’t.”
Color was returning to her cheeks now, and her eyes flashed with resentment.
Mason said, “I think you’d better just sit down and take it easy for a few minutes, Mrs. Tidings. Officers are on their way out here.”
“Why should officers be on their way here?”
“Because of something we found in the bedroom.” And Mason pointed to the stains on the floor.
“What’s that,” she asked, “ink? What is that on my floor? Good God! I…”
She took a step forward, stared down at the stains, and then a gloved knuckle crept toward her mouth. She bit hard on the black leather stretched taut over her knuckles.
“Take it easy,” Mason said.
“Who… who… what…”
Mason said, “We don’t know yet. I think you’d better prepare yourself for a shock. I think it’s someone you know.”
“Not… not… Oh, my God, it can’t be…”
“Your husband,” Mason said.
“My husband!” she exclaimed. There were both incredulity in her voice and a something which might have been relief. Then there was sudden panic again. “You mean that he… he might have done it, might have…”
“I think that the body is that of your husband,” Mason explained.
She gave a half-stifled exclamation and moved swiftly toward the bedroom door. Mason caught her arm.
“Don’t do it,” he said.
“Why not? I must find out…”
“You will, later. Right now, don’t spoil any of the fingerprints on that doorknob.”
“But I have a right to know. Can’t you see how I…”
“Quit looking at it from your viewpoint,” the lawyer interrupted. “Figure it from the police viewpoint. Do a little thinking.”
She stared at him silently for several seconds, then crossed over to sit down on the davenport. “What happened?” she asked.
“Apparently he was shot.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. He was in his office yesterday morning. I talked with him on the telephone. He must have come out here shortly afterwards… Would you know anything about that?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve been away ever since Monday afternoon.”
“May I ask what time Monday?” Mason asked.
“Why?”
Mason smiled and said, “The officers will ask these questions. After all, it’s your house, you know. I thought perhaps it might help you a little if I gave you a chance to collect your thoughts before the officers get here.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” she said. “Was it suicide?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I haven’t made any investigation.”
“How about this detective?”
“He’s a private detective employed by me.”
“Why did you come here?”
“We thought Mr. Tidings might have come out here after he left his office Tuesday. Had you seen him lately?”
“No. We — didn’t get along at all.”
“Now then,” Mason asked, “would you mind telling me where you went on Monday afternoon?”
“I drove nearly all night,” she said. “I was upset.”
“And where did you drive?”
“To a friend’s house. I spent a couple of days with her.”
“You didn’t take much baggage,” Mason pointed out.
“No. I decided to go on the spur of the moment. I’ve had — well, troubles of my own.”
“Where does this friend live?”
“In Reno.”
“And you drove to Reno Monday?”
“Yes. I got in about daylight Tuesday morning. I felt a lot better after the drive.”
“And you’ve been there ever since?”
“Until late last night. I left about ten o’clock.”
“Where did you stay last night?”
She laughed nervously, and shook her head. “I don’t drive that way. When I want to go some place, I start driving. When I get sleepy, I pull off to the side of the road and get a few minutes’ sleep, then I start driving again. I much prefer to drive at night. I don’t like the glare of the sun on paved roads.”
“You slept some last night?”
“Yes, a few cat-naps here and there along the side of the road.”
Mason said, “The officers will probably want to check your time pretty carefully. If you can give them all the data they need it will make it a lot easier for you. I’m just telling you as a friend. Here they come now.”
A siren screamed up the hill. A police radio car finished the ascent, raced along the level stretch of roadway, and swerved sharply to park up against the curb. An officer jumped out of the car and came striding toward the house.
Drake opened the door.
The radio officer looked at Drake, pushed a foot through the door. “Which one of you telephoned Homicide?” he asked.
“I did,” Drake said. “I’m a private detective.”
“Your name Drake?”
“Yes.”
“Got a card on you?”
Drake handed him a card.
“How about the woman and this other guy?” the officer asked.
“This is Mrs. Tidings. She came in right after I telephoned headquarters.”
The officer stared at her suspiciously.
“I just this minute returned from Reno,” she explained. “I drove.”
“When did you leave there?”
“Last night.”
“She lives here,” Mason explained. “This is her house. She’s been visiting a friend in Reno for a couple of days.”
“I see. And who are you? Oh, I place you now. You’re Perry Mason, the lawyer. What are you doing here?”
“We came out to see Mr. Tidings.”