“That brings us to the most significant clue of all, Paul, the fact that those bloodstains stop an inch or two beyond the threshold of the house. Remember, it was raining cats and dogs Monday night. That’s a cement porch, and a cement walk. Now I’ll tell you why the bloodstains stop near the door. It’s because the driving rain washed them away, except for those two or three drops which were protected from the rain by that little roof over the front door. That again fixes the time of the murder — Monday night.”
Drake said, “Okay, Perry. You win. That last clue clinches things. Standing by itself, it’s almost enough… All right, he was killed Monday night. Where does that leave us?”
Mason said, “I don’t know.”
“How about going to work on that secretary of Tidings’ and seeing if we can get a confession out of him?”
Mason said, “That’s the logical thing to do — if I knew where I stood.”
“What do you mean, Perry?”
Mason said, “Frankly, Paul, I don’t know who my client is.”
“Come on,” Drake said. “Talk sense.”
Mason said, “I’ve been retained by someone to protect a woman. I think I was hired to defend this woman from the charge of murdering Albert Tidings.”
“That wasn’t specifically mentioned?” Drake asked.
“No, Paul. It wasn’t. A man come to my office after midnight Monday. It was raining then — raining hard. There was a woman with him. The woman wouldn’t let me hear her voice, wouldn’t let me see her face. The man made arrangements by which she could be identified. When that identification was complete, I was to receive a very substantial fee.
“Now, I can’t figure anything which would have justified all of that frenzied effort — that business of getting me out of bed to protect someone, unless it had been an emergency and a serious one. I figure a murder would be most apt to fill the bill.
“Of course, when I learned of Tidings’ murder, I thought at once that that must be it. But I was employed on Monday night. The murder apparently hadn’t been committed until Tuesday. Then I started checking up on clues, and everything that I found indicated Tidings died on Monday night… And my best guess is that it was before midnight on Monday.”
“I still don’t see why your move isn’t to try to force a confession out of the secretary,” Drake said, “—if you’re certain your client was a woman.”
Mason said, “Because I’m not certain the secretary murdered him.”
“Good Lord, Perry! If he’s lying about Tidings’ having been in the office, and if he impersonated Tidings over the telephone in talking with you…”
“It doesn’t prove a damn thing,” Mason interposed, “except that the secretary had some very definite reason for not wanting anyone to know that Tidings wasn’t there in the office. Suppose, for some reason, it was vital to have it appear Tidings was sitting in his office on Tuesday morning. The secretary did the best he could to create the impression Tidings was there. Then Tidings’ body was found, and the indications pointed to the time of death as Monday night — little things which wouldn’t be significant to a stranger, but which caused the secretary to realize what he was up against.
“You can see what a fix the secretary was in. He didn’t dare to back up and reverse his previous statements, because that would put him in an awful jam. He simply had to go ahead and bluff the thing through.
“Now then, Paul, suppose the secretary isn’t guilty of murder, but merely used a subterfuge to make it appear Tidings was in the office on Tuesday morning. Then suppose I rush in, browbeat Tidings’ secretary with a lot of facts, force him to confess. He confesses that he was lying about Tidings, but advances some logical reason for the lie. Thereupon, the police come down on my client and charge her with murder. My officious interference has wiped out the only defense she could possibly make in front of a jury.”
“What do you mean?”
“An alibi for Tuesday morning and for Tuesday afternoon and evening.”
“What makes you think she has such an alibi?”
“Because,” Mason said, “the shoes and the counterpane were missing.”
“Talk sense, Perry.”
“I am talking sense. Don’t you see, Paul? The only reason for taking the man’s shoes from his feet and the counterpane from the bed was to conceal the fact that it was raining when Tidings entered that house. That means that this person knew that that particular location would be the last place on earth where anyone would think to look for Tidings. It means that the person who did it knew that Mrs. Tidings wasn’t in the city and didn’t expect to return for several days. The only logical solution is that this person must have left my office Monday night, and then started building an alibi… This looks like the party we want, Paul.”
Drake glanced swiftly at the young woman who was standing in the door of the beauty shop drawing on dark gloves.
“Looks like it,” he said. “The operative didn’t miss it far. She could get my vote for Miss America any time.”
Drake shifted his eyes to Mason’s face as the lawyer remained watchfully silent. “What’s the matter, Perry?” he asked.
Mason said, “I would have bet ten to one that she would be a woman I’d seen before. I didn’t expect to find a stranger.”
“She’s the one we want all right,” Drake told him. “The operative in the car ahead is giving us the high sign.”
Mason lowered his head so that his hat brim shielded a portion of his face. “Keep your eye on her, Paul,” he said. “She may know me when she sees me. Tell me what she’s doing.”
“Finishing drawing on her gloves,” Drake said. “There she is out on the sidewalk… Just a curious and flickering glance at the operative in the car ahead… Seems to have passed us up entirely… Okay, Perry. She’s on her way. Want to tag along?”
“Yes,” Mason said. “And get this, Paul… Look up that secretary, Mattern. Find out all you can about him. Investigate particularly whether there’s any connection between Mattern and a guy named Bolus who’s the president of the Western Prospecting Company. I’m on my way.”
Mason stepped to the sidewalk, sauntered casually over to the inner lane of traffic, and moved quietly along behind the young woman.
She was walking with a brisk step, but her gait was not sufficiently hurried to destroy the easy swing of perfectly co-ordinating muscles. Her hips moved in graceful rhythm as she strode easily but rapidly, very apparently headed toward some definite objective.
Mason followed her to a drugstore where she went into a telephone booth and remained long enough to dial a number and engage in swiftly rapid conversation with some unknown party. She hung up, swept past the counter where Mason was buying a toothbrush, and again reached the sidewalk. Once more, she flashed a quick glance at the car which the operative was driving, but it was no more than a mere flicker of the eyes.
Out in the street, she seemed to lose much of her former haste. Her step became more leisurely. Twice she paused to look in at store windows. The second time she seemed to tear herself reluctantly away from the inspection of a black velvet dinner dress, which was draped on a model in the window. She walked half a dozen steps, then abruptly turned to come back and once more study the dress, giving Mason an opportunity, after an uncomfortable second or two, to wander past, noticing as he did so, that her eyes were only interested in the department store window.
Mason stepped into the doorway of the department store and waited for her to walk past.