“Believe you me, I ain’t going to let anybody do my lying for me from now on. I’m getting rid of Bob, pronto! I’ve got to brush up. You understand?”
“I understand, Pete. But specifically, what did you intend to do with the arsenic?”
“Well, now, this Lost Peg-Leg Mine,” Sims said, “and a couple of other mines that have been lost out in the desert — the reason they get lost is because the gold is black. It’s covered on the outside with some sort of a deposit that turns it black. When you scratch down inside, it’s good yellow gold, but the nuggets look like little black rocks. I heard that it was some kind of arsenic compound, and I decided to get this arsenic and experiment with some gold and see if I could get that black coating on it. If I could, I thought I’d trim the next sucker by letting him think he’d discovered the Lost Peg-Leg Mine. That cattleman and his partner who think they’ve discovered the Lost Goler Mine — that cattleman’s all swelled up with the idea he can go out and locate lost mines by scientific methods. Well, I was going to let him get the Lost Peg-Leg.”
“Did you use this arsenic?” Mason asked.
“No, Mr. Mason, I didn’t have to. To tell you the truth, I’d forgotten all about that arsenic. Shortly after I got it I found where there was some of this black gold — not much of it, but enough so I could salt a claim.”
Mason said, “You’ve had some arrangement with Hayward Small.”
Sims shifted his position. “Now, Mr. Mason, you’re all wet on that. That’s one thing you shouldn’t say. Hayward Small is just as square a shooter as there is in the world. My wife don’t like him because he’s kind of shining up to Dorina, but Dorina’s got to get married some day and she’ll go a long, long ways before she gets a better boy than Hayward Small.”
Mason smiled and shook his head. “Remember the sheriff, Pete.”
Sims sighed wearily. “Oh, all right. What’s the use? Sure, I stood in with Hayward Small, and Small’s got some kind of a club he’s holding over Jim Bradisson.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, but I know it’s a club. I’ve been salting claims for Small, and Small’s been selling them to the corporation.”
“And he was in on this Shooting Star deal?”
“Nope. That was on my own. Understand, I ain’t been partners with Small. He’s just been paying me so much a job to salt mines for him. He’s fooled on that Goler mine, himself.”
“Hayward Small knew that you had this arsenic?” Mason asked.
“He knew about it, yes. He was the one who told me not to use it. He said he knew where we could get some of this black gold.”
“And did you poison Banning Clarke?” Mason asked.
“Who, me!”
Mason nodded.
“Gosh, no. Get that idea out of your head.”
“Or shoot him?”
“Listen, Mr. Mason, Banning Clarke was a square guy. I wouldn’t have touched a hair of his head.”
“And you haven’t any idea who put the poison in that sugar bowl?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
Mason said, “You don’t know what hold it is that Small has over Jim Bradisson, do you?”
“No, sir, I don’t, but it’s a hold all right. You can take it from me, Jim Bradisson is afraid of Hayward Small. It’s some sort of blackmail.”
“You don’t really think Small is a proper person to be Dorina’s husband, do you?”
“I’ll say he ain’t. If I’d been here, he’d never have had the nerve to go to Nevada with her.”
“But they didn’t get married?”
“The way I get the story,” Sims said with a grin, “that soldier boy that’s been sort of sweet on Dorina got himself a twenty-four-hour leave and was sort of hanging around Las Vegas — and I guess when the soldier got done with him, Hayward Small decided he wasn’t going to marry anybody. He didn’t feel like a bridegroom. He’s still got quite an eye on him.”
Mason said, “Well, I guess that covers it, Pete. Thanks a lot.”
Pete got eagerly to his feet. “Mr. Mason, I can’t begin to tell you how much it means to me to talk right frank with someone that can really understand. If you’ve ever got any desert property you want to get rid of at a fancy price — No, you wouldn’t have; but if there’s ever anything I can do, you just call on me.”
When he had gone, Mason grinned over at Della Street.
“We’re going to use some of Pete’s psychology,” he said. “Feed some stationery in your portable typewriter. Put it up on that desk — right under the light.”
“How many copies?” Della asked.
“One,” Mason said.
“What is it,” she asked, “a document for someone to sign, a letter, or...”
“It’s a piece of claim salting,” Mason announced, “and we’re going to let the sucker discover it. Our interview with Pete Sims is going to be highly productive.”
Della Street ratcheted the paper into the machine, held her fingers poised over the keyboard.
Mason said, “We’ll start this in the middle of a sentence up near the top of the page. Put a page number on it — make it page twenty-two, and then put just below that, ‘Transcript of statements made to Sheriff Greggory!’”
Della Street’s fingers rippled the keyboard into a swift staccato of noise. When she paused, Mason said, “Just down below that, write Continuation of statement of James Bradisson. — All right, now let’s start the top of the page in the middle of a sentence, say, ‘that is, to the best of my knowledge and belief.’ — Now then, make a paragraph and put Question by sheriff: ‘Then you are prepared to swear, Mr. Bradisson, that you saw Hayward Small tampering with the sugar bowl?’ Answer: ‘I did. Yes, sir.’ Paragraph. Question: ‘You not only saw him put the note under the sugar bowl, but you are willing to swear you saw him raise the lid of the sugar bowl?’ Paragraph. Answer: ‘I did. Yes, sir. But T want you to remember that there are certain reasons why I must not be called as a witness until the time of trial. Once you get him before a jury, I’ll be the surprise witness that will get a conviction. I can afford to go on the stand when you’ve already made a case against him, but you’ll have to make up a case against him based on other testimony than mine.’ Paragraph. Statement by Sheriff Greggory: ‘I understand that, Mr. Bradisson. I’ve told you that we would try to respect your confidence. However, I can’t promise definitely. Now, about the arsenic. You say that Pete Sims had told him about having a supply of arsenic on hand?’ Answer: ‘That’s right. Sims wanted to use it in connection with some gold treatment, but Small told him not to use it, that he could get some of the black gold Sims wanted elsewhere.’ Paragraph. Question: ‘Who told you that?’ Paragraph. Answer: ‘Sims.’ Paragraph. Question: ‘Hayward Small never confirmed that?’ Paragraph. Answer: ‘Not in so many words, no.’ ”
“Getting down to the end of the page?” Mason asked Della Street.
“Right at the end,” she said.
“All right,” Mason said. “Leave that in the typewriter. Leave the light on. Take your brief case with you. Now, wait a minute. We’ll want to plant some cigarette stubs around here as though the room had been used for a conference. Tear some cigarettes in two. We’ll light them and leave stubs around.
“It’s touch-and-go, Della. If the sheriff ever thinks to question Dorina about whether she knows anything about the signing of the endorsement on that stock certificate, the fat’s in the fire.”