Mason looked across at Sylvia Oxman. "How much of that," he asked, "is the truth?"
"None of it," she said. "He didn't see me in that office. He's lying."
"And he didn't see you with the gun?"
"Of course not. That's Frank Oxman for you. You can't trust him for a minute. He'll stab you in the back whenever he has an opportunity. He wanted to divorce me… Sending me to prison on a murder charge would suit his purpose just that much better."
Mason indicated the facsimiles of the IOU's. "Where did he get those, Sylvia?" he asked.
"Why," she said, "he must have picked them up from Sam Grieb's desk… unless… unless he got them through you in some way."
Mason pulled another cigarette from his cigarette case, tapped it on his thumb, and said, "Sylvia, I paid off those IOU's."
"You did what?"
"Paid them off."
"But you couldn't have. They were there when…"
"I know," he told her. "I burned them before Duncan came in."
"But isn't that illegal?" she asked. "Couldn't they…?"
"No," Mason said. "I paid them off. Acting as an attorney who had been retained to represent your interests, I found those IOU's and paid them."
"But couldn't they make trouble for you over that?" she asked.
"They could make trouble for me," he admitted, "over lots of things I do. That doesn't keep me from doing what I think is right. And when I'm doing something which furthers the ultimate ends of justice, I think it's right. Take another look at those IOU's, Sylvia."
She studied the facsimiles carefully, then leaned forward to stare more intently at the paper. "Why," she said, "they're forgeries!"
"Good forgeries?" Mason asked.
"Yes, they look exactly like my signature. I know that they're forgeries, however, because I remember that I didn't have my own fountain pen with me when I signed the first of those IOU's. I had to use a pen Grieb gave me, and it wasn't suited to my style of writing. The pen point ran through the paper at one place and made a blot. I thought perhaps I'd better make a new note, but Grieb said that one would be all right. I remember it particularly, because I noticed that blot on the signature last night when I saw the notes on Grieb's desk."
Mason said, "Come to think of it, I noticed it myself. Well, that's that." He smoked in thoughtful silence for several minutes while Sylvia finished reading the newspaper account of Oxman's accusation and the current developments in the case.
Sylvia Oxman folded the paper and said indignantly, "It makes me sick! Of all the lies…"
Mason interrupted her to say, "Wait a minute, Sylvia. I think I can tell you what happened."
"What?" she asked.
"There's some chance," he told her, "that Frank actually did see you in that office."
"I tell you it's a lie! He's just…"
"Hold everything," Mason warned. "Don't jump at conclusions. The evidence of the man who was shadowing you is that Frank Oxman went down the corridor to the offices while you were still in the offices. He was only gone a minute or so, then turned around and came out. Now then, let's suppose, just for the sake of the argument, that while you were sitting in the outer office, you couldn't have heard the electric buzzer in the inner office. Now, let's suppose that Frank Oxman came down the passageway while you were still in the outer office, but just as you were about to push open the door to the inner office. You, therefore, wouldn't have heard the buzzer which announced his coming down the corridor. His statement says he hesitated for some little time in front of the door to the outer office. Let's suppose, for the sake of the argument, that he did.
"Then he opened the door, walked in, saw you leaning over the desk, and saw Grieb's body. He was at first frightened, then recognized the wonderful opportunity he'd have to pin a murder charge on you. He felt, of course, that you'd take and destroy the IOU's which were lying in plain sight on Sam Grieb's desk. Having done that, he felt that you were completely in his power. So he retraced his steps back down the corridor. As he went over that wired section of floor, you heard the signal, because you were then in the inner office. You thought it was someone coming, so you went back to the outer office, picked up the magazine and sat reading. A few minutes later, I came down the corridor, but you couldn't hear the electric signal then, because you were in the outer office. That would tie everything together. What you heard when you were in the inner office wasn't the signal of my approach, but the signal made by Frank Oxman as he left."
There was dismay in her eyes. "You make it sound so d-d-damn logical," she said. "I could almost hate you for it."
"Keep cool," Mason told her, "and don't cry."
"I'm not crying," she said in a harsh, strained voice.
Mason flipped ashes from his cigarette and said, "Okay, Sylvia, I think I know what to do."
"What?"
"I had to destroy those IOU's," he said, "because I didn't want them found on the scene of the crime, and I certainly didn't want them found on me. But you're the only one who knows I destroyed them. Now then, I'm going to step into a stationery store and get a book of blank notes. I can find exactly the same form which Grieb and Duncan kept aboard the ship. Then, using these facsimiles to go by, we'll make duplicate IOU's, duly signed and dated."
"But won't that put my head right back in the noose?" she asked.
"It will if we make them public," he said, "but think of the spot it's going to put Frank Oxman in if he thinks the original IOU's are in the hands of the district attorney. That will brand his IOU's as forgeries and his whole statement as a lie, fabricated out of whole cloth."
She nodded and said, "I see your point. Go get the blanks."
CHAPTER 12
MASON CALLED Paul Drake from a pay station in an isolated side-street restaurant. "Hello, Paul," he said cautiously when he heard the detective's voice on the line. "What's new?"
Drake said, "Seen the papers?"
"Yes."
"How do you figure it?"
"I don't figure it yet. Where's Oxman?"
"He signed that written statement and was released. He went to his hotel. A couple of reporters nailed him there for an interview. Then he sneaked out the back way and went out to Hollywood. He's registered in the Christy Hotel in five-nineteen, under the name of Sydney French."
Mason gave a low whistle. "Think he knows his wife is there?"
"I don't see how he can."
"Then what's his idea?"
"I think he's trying to dodge reporters."
Mason said slowly, "I don't like it, Paul."
"Well, after all," the detective said, "it's a reasonably prominent hotel. It may be just a coincidence they both picked it."
Mason thought for a moment, then said, "Hardly a coincidence, Paul, but it may be that the hotel has associations for them or they may have used it before when they wanted to hide out… Tell me, Paul, what's the latest on Belgrade?"
Drake's voice was bitter. "If I told you what I think of that snake it'd melt the telephone wire."
"Never mind what you think of him; what's he doing, Paul?"
"Hell, I don't know, Perry. I haven't kept tabs on him. They served him with a subpoena to appear before the Federal Grand Jury this afternoon. They also served one on me and they're trying their damnedest to serve one on you. One of the newspapers was trying to keep Belgrade sewed up, but after the subpoena was served it was no dice."
"Where did he spend the night, Paul?"
"How the devil should I know?… Who cares where he spent the night?"
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because," Mason said, "he's going to be wanting some clean clothes, a bath, a shirt, socks, change of underwear, and, if he's going before the Federal Grand Jury and have his picture taken for the newspapers, he'll probably want to put on his best suit."