“How about carbon copies?” Mason asked.
“That’s just it. Hocksley would have her make carbon copies, but she didn’t do any filing. She doesn’t know where the carbon copies are, or what became of them, and we can’t find any.”
“Hocksley was killed?”
“Hocksley or his housekeeper or both. They’re both missing, and there’s evidences of a shooting. We’d been acting on the theory that either Hocksley killed his housekeeper, or the housekeeper killed Hocksley, because we’d only been able to account for one shot. But if there were two shots, that might make the situation entirely different.”
Mason said, “If there’s anything we can do, don’t hesitate to call, Tragg. But Mr. Karr is intensely nervous. He’s had a nervous breakdown, and his doctors have told him to live in seclusion where he wouldn’t meet strangers, not to cultivate acquaintances, or form any new friendships. It would be a lot better if you’d limit his contacts as much as possible.”
Tragg pushed back his chair, got to his feet, shoved his hands down deep in his trousers pockets, and looked down at Karr. “You won’t think I’m getting too nosey if I ask you why the wheelchair?” he inquired.
Karr said tersely, “Arthritis. In my knees and ankles. Can’t stand any weight on them at all. Have to be lifted. Get in one position and I’m fairly comfortable. Make any moves with my legs, and there’s intense pain. Doctors recommended diathermy. I tried it for a while and came to the conclusion I could do the same thing by keeping a blanket over my legs and keeping them warm all the time. I drink lots of water and fruit juices. I’m getting better.”
“You haven’t a doctor now?”
“No, sir. Got tired of paying them so much money, and having them do me so little good. Man gets something acute wrong with him, and a doctor can help cure him. When it’s something chronic, doctors can’t help. They know it. They try to kid the patient along so he keeps cheerful. To hell with that stuff. I don’t want it. I never have been kidded along, and I don’t want to start in now. Put it up cold turkey to the last doctor. He got mad and told me I never would get any better, that in the course of time, I’d probably get worse. They’ve looked me all over for bad teeth and focal infections. I’m getting along all right. Last few months I’ve been better than ever before. Keep my legs warm all the time.”
Tragg regarded him with an air of detached interest, as though he were looking at some specimen in a glass case. Then he turned to regard Mason thoughtfully. Abruptly, he said, “Well, I’m sorry I disturbed you, Mr. Karr. I just had to complete my checkup. Just a matter of routine, you know. It probably won’t be necessary to bother you again. Sorry you’ve been having your troubles and hope I didn’t aggravate them too much.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Karr said. “Like to talk with a man who has intelligence. Afraid some square-toed, brow-beating cop was going to come messing around here, asking a lot of damnfool questions. You’re all right. Come in any time.”
“Thanks,” Tragg said. “I’ll try and handle this end of it myself, so you won’t be meeting new people.”
“I’ll certainly appreciate that,” Karr said. “I will for a fact.”
“Now then,” Tragg went on in a deliberately casual manner, “how about Rodney Wenston? Does he...”
“Just a blind,” Karr interrupted. “He’s my stepson. Lives down toward the beach somewhere. I have the telephone in his name, and his name on the door. In fact, he rents the flat. I’ve done that deliberately so as to let myself stay in the background. When peddlers come here and ask for Mr. Wenston, we can tell them quite truthfully he’s out and we don’t know when he’ll be back. I don’t want to be annoyed with people. I use Wenston as a sort of buffer.”
Tragg appeared quite favorably impressed with the explanation. He nodded his head sympathetically and said, “I understand perfectly. Is there any particular reason why you are avoiding people, Mr. Karr?”
“There certainly is,” Karr snapped. “I’m a nervous man — irritable — highly irritable. The doctors tell me to conserve my nervous energy. I can’t do it when I meet people, particularly strangers. Strangers ask too damn many questions. Strangers get sympathetic. Strangers talk too damn much. Strangers come to visit and stay too long. I don’t like them.”
Tragg laughed good-naturedly, and said, “And, I take it, the fewer questions I ask and the shorter I make my stay, the more popular I’ll be?”
“Poppycock,” Karr exploded. “I didn’t mean you, didn’t mean you at all. You’re here on business.”
“In any event, I’ll be going,” Tragg said. “I trust it won’t be necessary to bother you again, Mr. Karr.”
Mason watched him out of the room, then frowned and lit a cigarette. He was still frowning at the cigarette smoke when the sound of the lower door closing seemed to ease the tension.
Karr said, “What was the idea telling him about two shots, and making the time later, Mason?”
Mason said, “It would have been a good gag if it had worked.”
“Don’t you think it did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why was it a good gag?”
“Because when an officer’s working up a case, he talks with a lot of witnesses. From them he gets a pretty good idea of what happened and when it happened. Naturally, an officer likes to get newspaper publicity, so he stands in pretty well with the newspaper reporters. Otherwise he doesn’t stay on the force. The newspapers see to that. So when you tell a man like Lieutenant Tragg to keep your name out of the newspapers, it doesn’t mean a damn thing. But if you give him testimony which is at variance with the facts in the case he’s working up, then he’s certain to see your name is kept out of the newspapers.”
“Why?”
“Because if the newspapers state you don’t recollect things just as the other witnesses do, or that your testimony is at sharp variance with theirs, it means that the person who actually committed the murder, and whom the police are after, is encouraged. It means that when that person is arrested, the lawyer he retains will know immediately where to go to find a witness who will contradict the testimony of the prosecution’s witnesses.”
Karr’s face lit up into a smile. “Clever,” he said. “Damned clever. That’s what I wanted you for, Mason. Fast thinking...”
“Well, don’t be too happy about it,” Mason warned, “because I don’t think it worked.”
“Why not?”
Mason said, “Tragg’s too damned intelligent. That man’s just nobody’s damn fool.”
“You think he saw through what you were doing?”
“I’m practically certain of it,” Mason said, “but that isn’t what’s worrying me.”
“What is?”
Mason said, “The way he suddenly started getting sympathetic, and telling you that he’d keep the reporters from annoying you.”
“Well, isn’t that just what we want?”
“It is except for one thing,” Mason said.
“What’s that?”
Mason looked down at the blanket thrown over Karr’s knees. “If any of this invalid business is part of the buildup you’re using to give yourself an alibi, and if your legs are in such shape you can walk, you’re going to find yourself Lieutenant Tragg’s very favorite suspect — leading the rest of the field by about a dozen lengths.”
Karr’s face, which had twisted with some emotional reflex as Mason expounded his theory of Tragg’s reactions, suddenly broke into a relieved smile. “Well, as far as that’s concerned,” he said, “I can give you absolutely definite assurance, Mr. Mason. I can’t walk. I can’t put any weight on my legs. I can’t even move from a chair to a bed or a bed to a chair. I have to be lifted. I can’t even get to a telephone without help.”