“Yes. Everything’s all ready. The donor’s waiting, and my assistant is on the job awaiting instructions.”
“Okay,” Mason said, and hung up.
Mason piloted Peltham’s automobile out to a place which was sufficiently isolated to serve his purpose. Stopping the car, he shut off the motor and spread Peltham’s overcoat over a clump of brush, took a thirty-eight caliber revolver from his pocket, held the weapon close enough to leave powder burns in the cloth of the coat, and fired a shot into the left breast.
Tossing the coat into the car, Mason thrust the revolver back into his pocket and drove to the hospital. He picked up the thermal container with its content of human blood, and then drove Peltham’s automobile to the exact place where Tidings’ car had been found by the police.
Mason poured blood onto the overcoat around the hole which had been made by the bullet, both on the inside and outside. He saw that there were stains smeared liberally over the seat of the car and on the floorboards. He left spots on the steering wheel and trickled a rivulet down the inside of the overcoat to form in a puddle on the seat and floor.
When he exhausted his supply of blood, he surveyed the effect with critical appraisal and nodded with satisfaction.
Carrying the thermal container, he swung out in a long, brisk stride, heading northward. Headlights loomed ahead before he had gone two blocks, and Della Street slid her car into the curb.
“Okay, Chief?” she asked.
“Not a hitch anywhere,” he said.
“Just what,” she asked, “will this do?”
“It’s going to smoke someone out into the open,” Mason said, lighting a cigarette and settling back against the cushions of the car.
Fifteen minutes later Mason sent a telegram addressed to Miss Adelle Hastings at 906 Cleveland Square, which read:
HIGHLY IMPORTANT TO ASCERTAIN FROM P IF THERE IS ANY OBJECTION TO SETTING ASIDE SALE OF WESTERN PROSPECTING STOCK TO GAILORD TRUSTEE. PLEASE ASCERTAIN AT ONCE AND NOTIFY ME BY WIRE SENT TO MY OFFICE. M.
Chapter 9
Tidings’ secretary, Carl Mattern, opening the door of his apartment in response to Mason’s knock, regarded the lawyer with his characteristic owlish scrutiny.
“Why, good evening, Mr. Mason.”
“There’s a minor matter I wanted to clear up, Mattern,” Mason said. “I thought you could help me.”
“Certainly. Won’t you come in?”
“Thank you.”
Mason entered the modest apartment. Mattern indicated a comfortable chair, and Mason dropped into it.
“What,” Mattern asked, “can I do for you?”
“Not much for me,” Mason said. “It’s really for you.”
“What do you mean?”
Mason said, “I’m not going to mention names, Mattern, but the claim has been made that you left the broker’s office right after the completion of that stock deal and went out to report to Tidings, and while you were talking with him, there was a quarrel, that Tidings accused you of having a personal interest in the transaction and confronted you with proof, and that you shot him.”
“That’s absurd,” Mattern said.
Mason nodded affably. “Thought I’d mention it to you,” he said, “so you’d have a chance to clear it up.”
“In the first place,” Mattern said, “I can account for every minute of my time from the time I left that brokerage office.”
“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Would you mind running over the schedule with me?”
Mattern took a notebook from his pocket. “Not at all,” he said. “When I realized that it was going to be necessary for me to remember what had happened that day, I thought I’d better jot it down on paper.”
“Good idea,” Mason said.
“To begin with,” Mattern said, “I left the brokerage office at eleven-eight. I made a point to notice the time when the deal was closed. I returned to my office, and Mr. Tidings called me just about noon. I told him that the deal had been concluded satisfactorily. Mrs. Tump had been trying to see him, and I told him about that. Then I rang up a friend of mine in one of the other offices and asked her to have lunch with me. We went down in the elevator at five minutes past twelve, and I returned with her at five minutes before one o’clock.”
“I presume she can verify not only the occasion but the time,” Mason said.
“Certainly. She works in an office where they go by the clock. Her lunch hour is from twelve to one. She has to be back at her desk promptly at one o’clock.”
“I see,” Mason said, “and after that?”
“After that,” Mattern said, “I went back to Mr. Tidings’ office. There were some matters to take up with the manager of the building, and I rang up the manager’s secretary and asked for an appointment as near one-thirty as was convenient.”
“You got one?”
“Yes, at one-twenty-five. I talked with the manager of the building for fifteen minutes. I had told his secretary that my business would not take longer than that, and I remember looking at my watch and commenting to her as I went out that it had been fifteen minutes on the dot.”
“And then?” Mason asked.
“Then,” Mattern said, “I went down to a jewelry store to see about buying a new wrist watch. A chap whom I know works there, and I looked at wrist watches for nearly half an hour.”
“He’ll remember the occasion?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And the time?”
“He certainly will,” Mattern said, laughing, “because we were discussing the accuracy of watches. I bet him that my own wrist watch wouldn’t vary more than one second in half an hour from his standard chronometer. I was there half an hour, and we checked the second hand.”
“That brings you up to two-thirty,” Mason said.
“That’s right.”
“What did you do after two-thirty, Mattern?”
“I had some matters to go over with the accountant who makes out Mr. Tidings’ income tax reports. I asked him to meet me at the office at quarter of three. We were there until five.”
“And after five?” Mason inquired.
“I invited a young lady to meet me at five-twenty, to go to dinner and a movie.”
“The same young lady whom you took to lunch?”
“No, another one.”
“Why five-twenty in particular?” Mason asked.
“Well,” Mattern said, “it was… well, it just happened to be the time that I mentioned, that’s all.”
“Wasn’t that rather early for a dinner date?”
“Yes, perhaps. But I wanted to get in to the show in time for the first picture.”
“This young woman works?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
Mason said, “Well, let’s go back to Tuesday morning.”
“I came to the office at nine o’clock,” Mattern said. “Mr. Tidings came in about nine-fifteen. We handled some correspondence until ten-thirty, then we discussed details in connection with the closing of the Western Prospecting deal, and you called up. That started Tidings sputtering about what a busybody Mrs. Tump was, and we discussed that for several minutes. Then Tidings went out, and I went over to close that Western Prospecting deal.”
“See anyone except Tidings on Tuesday morning?” Mason asked.
“The brokers. Then there was Mrs. Tump shortly after eleven.”
“I mean before that.”
Mattern thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t think anyone came to the office.”
“Immediately after noon,” Mason said, “your time seems to have been pretty well checked.”
“Yes, sir. There’s not more than twenty minutes at any one time, and it would have been a physical impossibility for anyone to get out to that bungalow where the body was found and back to the center of town within a twenty-minute period.”