Mason thought for a moment. “Did you tell him I was busy, Gertie?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t give him the names of my clients, did you?”
“No. Certainly not.”
“Tell him I’ll be right out,” Mason said.
He hung up the telephone and excused himself to his clients. “Sergeant Holcomb of the Homicide Squad is outside,” he said. “He wants to see me at once. I won’t be long. Excuse me, please,” and went out to the reception office, carefully closing the door of his private office behind him.
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Let’s go some place where we can talk.”
“The law library is available,” Mason said, opening the door to the long room with its shelves lined with books.
The officer nodded to the young man who was with him, and said, “All right, Mattern. Come along.”
Mason shifted his eyes to make a quick appraisal of the young man. He was somewhere in the late twenties with a head which seemed too large for his body. The bulging, prominent forehead and slightly protruding eyes gave him an appearance of owlish intellectuality which was emphasized by large, dark-rimmed spectacles.
Mason led the way into the law library and closed the door. “What is it, Sergeant?” he asked.
Sergeant Holcomb jerked his head toward the narrow-shouldered young man. “Carl Mattern,” he said, “Tidings’ secretary.”
Mason nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction. Mattern didn’t say anything. He seemed intensely nervous.
Sergeant Holcomb said, “You’re representing Byrl Gailord?”
Mason hesitated a moment, then said, “On certain matters, yes.”
“What’s that other name?” Holcomb asked Mattern.
“Tump. Mrs. A. E. Tump.”
“Know her?” Holcomb asked Mason.
“Yes.”
“She your client?”
“Not exactly. What are you getting at?”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Mattern says you called up and talked with Tidings yesterday about an appointment.”
“Yes. I told you I’d talked with him on the phone.”
“That appointment was to discuss Byrl Gailord’s affairs?”
“In a way, yes.”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “Where can I find Byrl Gailord now?”
Mason said, “That’s something I don’t feel called upon to answer — not as matters stand now.”
“Not being much help, are you?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
Mason said, “If you’ll come down to earth and tell me what you’re driving at, I might be able to help you.”
Sergeant Holcomb said, “I’m checking up on motives, that’s all. Mrs. Tump and Byrl Gailord were making things pretty hot for Tidings. They tried to see him Monday afternoon, and Tidings refused to talk with them. They were hanging around outside his office, waiting for him to come out. Tidings said he’d see Miss Gailord, but he’d be damned if he’d talk to Mrs. Tump; said she was a hellcat.”
“So she killed him?” Mason asked with a smile.
“Nuts,” Holcomb said. “You know what I’m after, Mason. I want the low-down. I want to know what they knew about him, and whether they accused him of embezzling funds. After all, when a man’s killed, we check up on his enemies. You know that as well as I do… As far as that’s concerned, a woman could have killed him as well as a man… That lipstick makes it look like a woman.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Tump uses any,” Mason said with a smile.
Sergeant Holcomb frowned and started to say something, but paused as the door leading to the reception office opened, and Gertie said, “I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s someone on the line who says he must speak with Sergeant Holcomb right away.”
Sergeant Holcomb looked around the room. “Can I take the call on this phone?” he asked, indicating an extension phone on a small table near the window.
Gertie said, “I’ll connect you,” and stepped back into the reception room, closing the door to the law library.
Sergeant Holcomb picked up the telephone, said, “Hello,” then after several seconds said again, “All right… hello. Who is it?… All right. Go ahead.”
Carl Mattern said in a low voice to Mason, “This has upset me frightfully. I’m so nervous I can hardly think straight.”
Mason looked down at the wide, greenish-blue eyes which stared steadily up from behind the horn-rimmed glasses. “I presume it was quite a shock,” he said. “It must…”
He broke off as Sergeant Holcomb, muttering an oath, slammed the receiver back into place, and, with no word of explanation, took two quick strides toward the door which led to Mason’s private office.
“Don’t go in there,” Mason said.
Sergeant Holcomb ignored Mason. He jerked open the door, strode into the private office.
The two women, sitting huddled in a whispered conference, looked up in surprise.
Holcomb swung back to face Mason. “Holding out on me, eh? If I hadn’t been tipped off that she was on her way to your office, I’d have fallen for it… That sort of stuff isn’t going to get you any place, Mason.”
Mason said, “I don’t have to report to you when a client calls on me. I’m having a conference with these women.”
“Well, ain’t that too bad?” Sergeant Holcomb said. “That conference is going to wait until I ask a few questions… You two women were having some trouble with Albert Tidings, weren’t you?”
Abigail Tump took the conversational lead. “Certainly,” she said. “And the Hastings Hospital was having trouble with him. Mr. Tidings was a crook.”
“You know he’s dead?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
“Yes. Mr. Mason told me.”
“All right,” Sergeant Holcomb said. “Now you went to Tidings’ office Monday afternoon to try and see him. He told his secretary to tell you that he’d talk with Byrl Gailord, but he’d be damned if he’d talk with you. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Tump said.
“But you did talk with him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She said, “We waited outside in the parking lot where he keeps his automobile. Byrl knew where it was. We parked our car right next to his.”
“What time did you talk with him?”
“Right after he left the office Monday, about four-thirty or quarter to five.”
“Did you make any threats?”
Mrs. Tump took a deep breath and seemed to swell up with indignation. “Did I make any threats?” she asked. “Well, I like that! Threats indeed! That man threatened to have me arrested for defamation of character. He said I’d poisoned Byrl’s mind against him. He said that under the trust he had absolute discretion as to what he’d give her and when he’d give it to her, and if I didn’t quite interfering, he wouldn’t give Byrl one damn cent. Those were his exact words, young man. One damn cent. Does that sound as though I was threatening him?”
“And what did you tell him?” Sergeant Holcomb asked.
She said, “I told him that he was going to be forced to make a complete accounting on that trust fund, and tell Byrl exactly how her affairs stood, that I wasn’t anybody’s fool, and that I was going to consult a lawyer.”
“Then what?” Holcomb asked.
“Then,” she said, “I told him that Mr. Perry Mason was going to be my lawyer, and that Mr. Mason would call on him at eleven o’clock the next morning. And that seemed to knock him for a loop. He mumbled something we couldn’t hear, and started his car and drove away.”
Sergeant Holcomb glanced inquiringly at Byrl Gailord. “You were there?” he asked.
She nodded.
“How does that check with your recollection of what happened?”