“Did you have sense enough to wear gloves?” Mason asked.
The look of dismay on Gilman’s face was Mason’s answer.
“All right,” Mason said. “You probably left fingerprints all over the place. You’ve given them the most perfect first-degree murder case Hamilton Burger ever had. There’s only one peculiar thing about all this and that is that I am halfway inclined to believe you... Now, what did you do when you finished cruising around yesterday morning looking for Vera Martel? You say you found her car parked within half a block of your place. What did you do with your car?”
“I drove to the place where I usually take the bus and parked my car on the side street.”
“That’s how far from your house?”
“About four blocks.”
“All right. You left the car there. Then what did you do?”
“I didn’t know what to do, Mr. Mason. I was in a daze. I took a bus for the office, but I never went there. I walked around for some time, then I decided to go home and have a showdown with my family. So I got on the bus and went back almost to my house, and then suddenly realized that I had that appointment with you and that I had better go and see you, that I could dump the whole thing in your lap. So I got off the bus, caught another bus back and came up to your office to keep my appointment.
“Now, you’re wrong about me having Matilda Norman ring you up to make you think that Vera Martel was alive at that time. I was afraid that you might be working a little too leisurely. I wanted to give you a challenge. I knew that if Vera Martel made it seem she was outwitting you, you’d get on the job and do something about it. So I fixed up this scheme with my secretary... but how in the world you found out who it was calling is more than I’ll ever know.”
Mason said, “There’s no time for you to ask me questions. I’m asking you questions. You try to answer them. There were three people beside yourself in that house — Muriell, your wife and Glamis. Since Muriell was up and cooking the breakfast she could well be the one you saw running out of the workshop. That’s rather an interesting possibility.”
“Actually, there were four people beside myself in the house,” Gilman said.
“Who was the fourth?”
“A young man from up in the northern part of the state somewhere. Hartley Elliott, a rather personable young chap, a manufacturers’ agent.”
“What about him?”
“He has been going with Glamis and he escorted her home at some time around two or thee o’clock in the morning... The way young people do things these days really gets me.”
“Go on,” Mason said.
“Well, as I get the story now, he parked his car and went up and sat on the porch with Glamis for a while and he left the ignition on in the car. When he came back to turn the ignition key into the starting position, the battery simply refused to take hold, so Glamis suggested that he come on up and spend the night in one of the guest rooms.”
“How many guest rooms?”
“Two.”
“Where are they?”
“Upstairs, on the north side. The guest room that he occupied was directly over the dining room. As a matter of fact, I heard him moving around up there and that tended to confuse me. I didn’t know that he had spent the night there... not until later.”
“How much later?”
“Last night, when I called Muriell from Las Vegas. Muriell was very much concerned about me and I could see that she was curious about me... Well, we talked for some little time on the telephone and she told me about Hartley Elliott staying there overnight.”
“You paid for the call?” Mason asked.
“No, I didn’t. I called collect.”
“From Las Vegas?”
“Yes. I asked for Muriell and told the operator to reverse the charges.”
“So, in case they were needing any more clues,” Mason said, “they have a long-distance call to help out.”
Gilman said, “Mr. Mason, if I have to, I’ll plead guilty. You can make some sort of a deal with the prosecutor by which I can plead guilty to manslaughter, and then, what with my position and background, I can get out in a year or two.”
Mason said, “You listen to me. I’ll tell you what you can do and what you can’t do when the time comes. In the meantime, you don’t say one single word to anybody about pleading guilty to anything. You just keep your mouth completely, entirely shut. You tell everybody that your attorney has given you instructions not to discuss the case in any way, not to discuss your family, not to discuss your background, not to discuss your business. Now then, I want to know one thing. Did you kill her?”
“Mr. Mason, honestly I did not.”
“But you felt she probably had been killed, and you are morally certain that someone in your family did kill her?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Muriell?”
“I am not going to answer.”
“Was it Glamis?”
“I won’t be cross-examined.”
“Was it your wife?”
“I’ve told you, Mr. Mason, that I am not going to ever tell anybody. That name will never pass my lips as long as I’m alive.”
“Was it Hartley Elliott?”
“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t take a rap simply to protect him.”
“Well,” Mason said, “you’re either a devoted husband, father and step-father, or else you’re a damn good actor. And right at the moment I don’t know which, but I intend to find out.
“Now, you sit tight, and under no circumstances discuss the case with anyone.”
“Where are you going now?”
“I’m going out to your house,” Mason said. “I’m going to talk with the various members of the family, and while I’m talking with them I’m going to try to make up my mind whether any one of them is lying, and, if so, which one it is. And if none of them are lying I’ll feel pretty certain that you murdered Vera Martel out in your workshop and have concocted a story that is designed to arouse my sympathy and cause me to use my best efforts in softening up the district attorney so you can, as they say in crook parlance, cop a plea.”
And Mason turned, signaling to the guard that the interview was over.
Chapter Nine
Mason parked his car in front of the residence on Vauxman Avenue, hurried up the front steps and was about to press the doorbell when the door was flung open by Muriell Gilman.
“Oh, Mr. Mason, what is it?” she asked. “Tell me.”
“I’ll tell all of you at once,” Mason said. “How about the others — are they up?”
She shook her head. “I did what you said, Mr. Mason. I let them sleep on.”
“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Now get them up and tell them to come down here. I have some important news. I want to have them all together when I tell you.”
“But, Mr. Mason, tell me, is Daddy... Daddy hasn’t been hurt... or... or killed?”
“Physically,” Mason said, “your father is quite safe at the moment. I have some news and I’m not going to have it dragged out of me piece-meal. I want you all together when I tell you the news and I want to have Nancy and Glamis down here so I can talk with them at the same time I talk with you.”
“Glamis is a savage before she has her coffee,” Muriell said. “I’d better take her some coffee.”
“You get her down here and let her be savage,” Mason said. “Tell her I want to talk with her.”
Muriell said, “Come on in, Mr. Mason, and I’ll get Nancy and Glamis down here.”
Mason followed her into a big, tastefully arranged living room.
“Can I take a look at the dining room and kitchen while you’re upstairs?” Mason asked.
“Why, certainly. Let me run up and tell Nancy and Glamis. I’m satisfied you’ll have a little time before they get some clothes on, get presentable and get down here. If you’ll just wait, please.”