“Quite.”
“Very well. Under those circumstances I’m perfectly willing to answer questions so that I can clear up any misunderstanding, but I have warned you about my position.”
“In other words,” Mason said, “if I make the statement to anyone that you were with Nadine Farr, you’ll sue me for damages?”
“I’ll brand the statement as false and in the event that statement causes me any embarrassment at home I’ll... oh, what’s the use, Mason? You’re a lawyer. You understand the situation. I’m trusting to your discretion.”
“All right,” Mason said. “There are no witnesses here, just you and me. Now, were you with Nadine Farr or not?”
“Definitely not.”
“Did she telephone you this afternoon?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you learn in any way that she was at a motel at the beach known as the High-Tide Motel?”
Newburn’s laugh was the laugh of one who brushes aside an absurd statement. “Of course not, Mason,” he said. “Good heavens, don’t let these detective agencies fool you by turning in these thoroughly cockeyed reports. You’ve had enough experience to know that those operatives always try to send in reports that’ll lead to more work. They find out what the client wants and—”
“The manager of the motel,” Mason interrupted, “said that a young man who answered your description drove up to the motel in a two-tone Oldsmobile, that Nadine got in the car and the man drove away.”
“That Olds is a popular car,” Newburn said. “You’ll find thousands of them registered around here, and I’ll bet there are several hundred thousand people who answer my general description.”
“And,” Mason went on, as though there had been no interruption, “the manager said she saw the driver of the car turn in at a service station just down the block. Now then, the records of the service station show that someone who was driving your car and using your credit card stopped in for gasoline, and the signature on the delivery slip seems to be your signature.”
Mason stopped talking.
Jackson Newburn looked at him in speechless consternation.
Mason lit a cigarette.
When the silence had lasted for a good thirty seconds, Newburn said, “Who else knows this, Mason?”
“I know it,” Mason said, “the detective agency that I retained knows it, and the police will know it when they interview the manager of the motel.”
“Damn!” Newburn exclaimed in complete exasperation.
Mason lifted his eyebrows.
“I’m cursing my own stupidity in stopping in at that service station. I had no idea I was being watched.”
“Managers of motels get a little curious about attractive young women who register alone and then are met by well-dressed men driving high-priced cars,” Mason told him.
Newburn snapped his fingers two or three times in quick exasperation.
“Cigarette?” Mason asked.
He shook his head.
“Well?” Mason inquired after a while.
“I’m thinking.”
“That may not be the right thing to do.”
“What do you mean?”
Mason said, “You’re trying to think of a story that will satisfy me and give you an out. Don’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because a story which might satisfy me might not satisfy the police — not in the long run. And if they catch you trying to cover up something then the fat will be in the fire.”
Newburn said, “The truth unfortunately is rather awkward.”
Mason said, “Get this straight. You’re dealing with a murder case. No matter how awkward the truth is, you can’t fabricate a situation that will meet all of the requirements. You can’t get a falsehood that will dovetail in with all of the facts. Sooner or later all of the other facts will be known. If your story doesn’t dovetail you’ll have to change it. If you change it under pressure the truth will then be ten times more awkward.”
Newburn said, “Nadine wanted help.”
“Financial?” Mason asked.
“She didn’t say so.”
“What kind of help?”
Newburn again snapped his fingers in quick nervousness.
“Relax,” Mason told him. “A lie will simply get you in deeper.”
“I don’t like to be accused of lying,” Newburn said coldly. “For your information, Mr. Mason, I don’t lie.”
“You tried to lie to me a minute ago. You lied to my detective, and you’re frantically trying to think up a good lie right now, Newburn.”
The lawyer’s voice was impersonal, patient, tolerant and completely without antagonism.
Jackson Newburn squared his shoulders, looked up at the lawyer’s granite-hard features, then laughed nervously.
“Well, I did lead with my chin that time, didn’t I? The fact remains, Mason, that I’m not accustomed to lying and—”
Mason said, “You’re an athlete of some sort. What do you do? Play tennis?”
“How did you know?”
“The swing of your shoulders, the way you step around. How good are you?”
“Pretty good.”
“Tournaments?”
“Sometimes.”
“Win?”
“Not lately. I’ve been too busy to keep in practice.”
“That’s the point I was going to bring out,” Mason said.
“What?”
“You have to keep in practice to remain a good tennis player.”
“Well?”
“You haven’t had much practice lying,” Mason said. “It takes a hell of a lot of practice to make a good liar, one good enough to fool the police and the newspaper reporters in a murder case.”
“I see,” Newburn said after a moment.
Mason waited, patiently smoking the cigarette.
Newburn said, “All right, Mason, I’ll give it to you straight. I’ll ask you to keep my remarks in confidence. I—”
“I’m not keeping any confidences,” Mason said. “I’m representing my client. I’m making no promises.”
“Then I can’t tell you.”
“Because I won’t promise to keep a confidence?”
“Yes.”
“The police won’t promise to keep a confidence,” Mason told him. “The newspaper reporters won’t promise to keep a confidence.”
Newburn thought that over.
Mason ground out the end of his cigarette on his heel, tossed it away.
“Well?” he asked.
Newburn said, “I always liked Nadine — not the way my wife thinks, but I liked her. She’s a good kid and she was getting a raw deal from Mosher Higley.
“Mosher was my wife’s relative. He was no relative of mine. My wife was his only relative. Higley had property. I’m not mercenary or commercial but I’d be a damn fool if I didn’t appreciate the fact that my wife was his only heir.
“The fact remains that Higley was terribly mean to Nadine. I sympathized with Nadine. Sue — that’s my wife — didn’t. I think in the back of Sue’s mind was the fear that Nadine might get her hooks into Mosher and... well, get a larger share under the will.
“There’s some scandal about Nadine’s birth. She’s an illegitimate child. Mosher Higley knew her background. He was friendly with John Locke’s family. He didn’t want Nadine and John Locke to marry.”