“In that case, I can do it.”
“And get away with it?”
“Oh, sure,” Muriell said. “If I don’t want people to find out anything they don’t find it out, that’s all.”
“All right,” Mason said, suppressing a smile, “let’s just keep our own counsel on that, Muriell. It may help.”
“But what about that ten thousand dollars?”
Mason said, “No one except you and I knows when I got that. We’ll go out to the workshop when we get to the house and... in fact, we’ll drive right into the garage and go in the workshop from there. For your information, your father talked with me on the phone and told me to pick up the money that was on the floor in the workshop.”
“Daddy didn’t tell me anything about the money,” Muriell said.
“Probably because he didn’t have time,” Mason said. “I think it’s highly advisable that you let your father tell you just what he wants you to know and don’t ask questions, and that you don’t tell your father anything about our meeting this morning. Your father might not like the idea that you called me up just because he jumped up from the breakfast table.”
“Yes, I’ve thought of that,” she said. “Daddy might feel that I was getting a little... well, taking too much on myself.”
“Exactly,” Mason said and, turning into the driveway at the Gilman home, ran the car into the vacant garage and stopped.
“Where is everybody?” Mason asked.
“Well,” she said, “Daddy has the sedan.”
“And Nancy and Glamis?” Mason asked.
“Nancy and Glamis went to a meeting of a photographic club in the sports car and I took the club coupe uptown.”
“I see,” Mason said. “That accounts for all three cars and, because the sports car isn’t here, I take it neither your stepmother nor Glamis has returned.”
“That’s right.”
Mason said to Muriell, “I’ll wait in the workshop while you run in and get the brief case. Incidentally, it might be a good idea to find out if anyone is home. I’d just as soon none of the others knew that I was out here unless... well, unless it becomes necessary. We won’t try any subterfuge, but on the other hand, we won’t advertise the fact that I’m here. I think that’s the way your father would want it.”
“I’m sure he’d want it that way,” she said, opening the door to the darkroom. “Come right through the darkroom, Mr. Mason. You can wait in the workshop.”
Mason followed Muriell across the darkroom into the workshop. Muriell smiled at him and said, “I’ll get Daddy’s brief case right away. I know exactly where it is. It’s in the dining room. He had it with him ready to take to work this morning and then whatever happened when he left... Mr. Mason, why do you suppose he did leave in such a hurry?”
“Heavens, I don’t know,” Mason said. “Your father evidently has various business affairs. He has lots of irons in the fire. Something came up that demanded his attention, probably something he’d forgotten about.”
She nodded and walked over to the door at the southeast corner of the workshop, said, “I’ll be right back, Mr. Mason.”
As soon as the door closed, Mason started making a swift but detailed survey of the workshop.
The broken chair was still lying on the floor. The pool of red enamel had partially dried. The room was warm and almost unnaturally quiet, filled with the smell of seasoned wood. A big fly droned in lazy circles.
A big blob of modeling clay was on the workbench. Mason regarded the clay carefully. There were fingerprints in the clay.
Mason moved back to the darkroom. He used a handkerchief so he would leave no fingerprints on the doorknob or the light switch and switched on the lights. He opened a few of the drawers. There were pictures of Carter Gilman, pictures of Muriell, pictures of an exceptionally beautiful blond young woman. Some were portrait enlargements, some were in bathing suits and one picture of the blonde was in a daring Bikini. It had been colored and Mason paused for a moment to look appreciatively at the girl’s figure; then he replaced the photographs, looked in some of the negative files and then heard the clack of Muriell’s heels on the hardtop as she returned to the workshop.
When she entered, Mason was innocently inspecting a partially finished jewel case.
“Your father does nice work,” he said.
“Simply beautiful,” she said. “He loves to work with wood and polish it. Isn’t that a beautiful little jewel case? I think that’s to be for me on my birthday.”
“You have the brief case, I see,” Mason said.
She handed it to him without a word.
“Now I’m to keep that in my office and simply deliver the papers that are in that green Bristol-board folder to Roger Calhoun?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m not to say anything about your father’s business other than that he’s consulted me?”
“That’s right. Daddy just said you were to deliver the papers to Calhoun and tell him you were doing so at Daddy’s request and the agreements were to be executed.”
“That,” Mason said, “might provoke some comment. Your father was scheduled to be at the office with these papers. Then a lawyer whose reputation is not exactly unknown comes walking into the office and says casually, ‘I have the agreements Mr. Gilman was to bring into the office this morning.’ ”
Muriell said, “Well, I guess Daddy thought you were to use your own judgment.”
“I’ll use it,” Mason said.
Suddenly Muriell cocked her head in a position indicating she was concentrating on listening.
“What is it?” Mason asked.
“A car turned into the driveway. Just a minute.”
Muriell walked over to the Venetian blinds, separated two of the metallic leaves so that she could look through, and said, “Good heavens, it’s Glamis coming home in a taxi!”
Mason regarded Muriell’s distressed countenance. “You don’t want her to know anything about this?”
“Heavens, no.”
“Doesn’t your father trust her?”
“I guess so, but... well, I just don’t want her to know, that’s all.”
“So what do you do?” Mason asked.
“I try to divert her,” she said. “But I don’t think it can be done. If she ever sees your car in the garage she’ll start looking around and, of course, if we aren’t in the house she’ll come out here... It may be better for me to just go out and talk with her and... But if she sees me coming out of the workshop she’ll wonder what I’m doing here, and if she finds you here... Oh, dear.”
Mason studied Muriell thoughtfully. “You don’t think she’ll go right into the house and...?”
“Let’s hope so. She forgot to pay the cab... That’s just like her... Now she’s turning back to pay the cabby and... Oh-oh, she’s seen your car! I’ll go out and try to head her off. I doubt if I can do it. She’s terribly curious. If I can’t stall her, don’t tell her anything. Understand? Not anything.”
Muriell opened the door of the workshop and walked, in a manner which she tried to make casual, down toward the taxicab.
Mason, parting the Venetian blinds to watch what was happening, saw the long-legged blonde whose picture he had seen in the darkroom smile vivaciously at Muriell and walk forward to put an arm around her.
Muriell exerted a gentle pressure toward the house and Glamis seemed to hold back slightly, asking questions.
Mason moved over to the telephone on the workbench, raised the instrument to his ear, caught the receiving tone and rapidly dialed the number of Paul Drake’s office.
When he had the detective on the line, Mason said, “Paul, I’ll have to give this to you quick and I can only give it to you once. I’m going to drive into my parking lot probably within the next twenty to thirty minutes. There’ll be a young woman with me. I want you to have someone pick up that young woman’s trail and tail her no matter where she goes.”