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“I don’t think she likes me at all. Her favorite is Connely Maynard who is the general manager of the Enterprises. They have known each other for some time.”

“How long have they known each other?”

“For some time.”

“Before her marriage to Hastings?”

“I think they had some friends in common.”

“And how well do they know each other now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would you care to speculate as to whether there is anything more than friendship involved?”

Beason hesitated a moment, then said, “No. Speculation in such a matter would be profitless.”

“Where does Minerva Hastings live now?”

“She alternates her time between here and friends she formed in Nevada while she was establishing her residence there. Minerva is restless. She comes and goes.”

“All right,” Mason said, “I want your opinion. Do you think she’s in love with Gonnely Maynard?”

Beason thought for a moment, then said, “She’s in love with power, she’s in love with money, she’s in love with herself. All other emotions are secondary.”

Mason said, “You know generally what happened here yesterday. Some woman stating she was Mrs. Hastings left her handbag in the office and there was a gun in the handbag.”

“So I understand,” Beason said.

“This woman was wearing dark glasses which made it a little difficult to identify her.”

“Yes. I understand that.”

“Do you think there is any chance this woman could have been Minerva Hastings?”

Beason was thoughtful. “Minerva Hastings,” he said, “is very resourceful, very daring, very shrewd. If she engaged in any activity of that sort it would have been well planned — down to the smallest detail.”

“Apparently,” Mason said, “this was well planned, down to the smallest detail.”

Beason said nothing.

The phone rang sharply.

Mason picked it up and Della Street said, “Mrs. Grump is in the office.”

“I see,” Mason said. “I think we had better proceed.”

“That means I’m to send her in?”

“Yes,” Mason said.

Mason opened the drawer of his desk, handed a pair of dark glasses to Simley Beason.

“Would you,” he asked, “mind putting these on?”

“Why?” Beason asked.

“I just want to see if it would make a difference in your appearance.”

Beason hesitated a moment, then put on the dark glasses.

Mason regarded him critically.

The door from the outer office opened and Della Street said, “Mrs. Crump.”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Grump,” Mason said, “would you mind coming in and being seated for a moment?”

Mrs. Grump, a chunky woman in her fifties, came marching forward.

Simley Beason hastily snatched at the dark glasses.

Mrs. Grump turned to look at him, said, “Why, what happened, Mr. Mason? Didn’t you go to Arizona after all?”

Beason smiled weakly, nodded his head toward Mason and said, “That’s Mr. Mason. I’m Simley Beason.”

“Why, you— Aren’t you...? Why, you’re the one who—”

“I think he is the one, Mrs. Crump,” Mason said. And turning to Beason, said, “I’d like very much to get a complete story of what you were doing in my office this morning shortly after six o’clock, and what happened to the revolver you took out of the upper right-hand drawer of my desk.”

Mason smiled at Mrs. Crump and said, “That’s all, Mrs. Crump. That’s all we need you for at the moment. If you’ll return to the outer office, Miss Street, my secretary, will see that you’re given a check for your services. I hesitated to bother you but—”

“That’s all right, that’s all right,” she said. “I’m only too glad to do anything I can.”

She gave Beason a look of obvious distaste, then turned and lumbered from the office.

Mason tilted back in the swivel chair, lit a cigarette, extended his hand for the dark glasses and sat silent.

The pressure of continued silence was too much for Beason.

“All right,” he said, “I suppose it was a clumsy attempt. I did what I could to aid Adelle.”

“Just how friendly are you and Adelle?” Mason asked. “What is the relationship?”

“There’s nothing improper, if that’s what you mean,” Beason said, “but I— Damn it, Mason, I... I suppose I’ve trapped myself. I suppose I’m in one hell of a predicament right now.”

The lawyer sat at his desk saying nothing, waiting for Beason to assume the conversational initiative.

“All right,” Beason said, “I can tell you because you know it anyway. I think the world of Adelle Hastings. I... I love her.”

“How long have you felt that way?” Mason asked.

“I was drawn to her from the first minute she entered the office. I won’t say it was a case of love at first sight, but I was very much interested in her, very much fascinated by her.”

“Ever take her out on a date?” Mason asked.

Beason shrugged his shoulders. “What chance does an employee stand when the boss is falling in love?”

“It depends,” Mason said. “It might depend a great deal on the woman.”

“I don’t think Adelle realized how I felt toward her.”

“Does she realize now?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never said anything that would give her that impression, but— Well, she’s been very friendly, very considerate, and very nice to me.”

“And she told you what had happened about the handbag and the gun?”

“Yes. After you left Las Vegas I became very much concerned about the telephone call Adelle had made while you were there, so I called her back and asked her to tell me what the trouble was.”

“And she did?”

“Not over the telephone. She said she was going to drive in.”

“So you met her sometime in the small hours of the morning?”

“At five o’clock,” Beason said. “We had breakfast together. Good Lord, what am I saying? I’m putting my neck in a noose and hers right along with mine. I never thought any of this would come out.”

“Lots of things come out in a murder case,” Mason said.

Beason said, “I was only trying to help. Apparently I didn’t do such a good job.”

“You certainly didn’t,” Mason said. “Not only for Adelle Hastings, but you’ve put me on the spot. How did you know where to find that gun?”

“Adelle told me what you had done with it.”

“Then, she knew you were going to come up here and get it?”

“Heavens, no! She didn’t have the slightest idea. She told me her story. She asked me what to do. She had no idea what I intended to do.”

“Did she tell you that she had been the one who left the bag in my office?” Mason asked.

“No, no! Don’t you understand? That’s the reason I became interested and... in doing what I did. She said very definitely that her handbag had been stolen, that there was no gun in it when it was stolen, and that then the gun was found in the handbag which had been left in your office by a woman who claimed she was Adelle Hastings. So right away I knew she was being deliberately framed.”

“You hadn’t discovered the body of Hastings at that time?”

“I hadn’t discovered the body, no. However, I had done everything but that. I put two and two together and came to the conclusion that something had happened... that some crime had been committed with that gun and that there was a deliberate, determined attempt to blame it on Adelle.”

“So you were going to do everything you could to see that Adelle was kept in the clear.”

“Let’s put it this way, Mr. Mason. I felt that someone was desperately trying to get Adelle in a lot of trouble and I felt that I’d... well, that I’d throw a few monkey wrenches in the machinery.”