He left his car in the driveway, ran up the steps to the house, found the front door standing open and was about to enter when a uniformed officer in charge of the small group of newspaper photographers and reporters herded the group out of the door. “You boys know the rules as well as I do,” the officer said. “We’ll give you all the facts we feel we can release, but you can’t go trooping around getting all the clues messed up and you know it. You had no business down there in the first place. Now you’re going to have to wait outside until the inspection is over. We can arrange for you to use the phone, but that’s all.”
Mason walked through the reception hall to the arched doorway and looked down. One officer was roping off the section of the living room where Carson’s body was lying. Another was questioning Morley Eden, who looked up and said, “Oh, there you are, Mason! What the devil! I’ve been looking all over for you. The officer wants to know who put in the call, who discovered the body, what you had to do with it and all of that stuff. I told them they’d better ask you.” He came up the steps.
“Quite right,” a dry voice said from behind Mason’s shoulder. “You should make an explanation, Perry.”
Mason turned to face Lieutenant Tragg’s enigmatic professional smile. “Another body?”
“Another body,” Mason said.
“Getting to be quite a habit with you, isn’t it?”
“It’s also a habit with you, isn’t it?” Mason asked.
“That’s my business,” Tragg said. “I come in contact with bodies.”
“So do I,” Mason told him. “I didn’t discover this one. The reporters discovered it.”
“And you happened to be here at the time?”
“I happened to be here at the time.”
“How delightfully opportune,” Tragg said. “Now perhaps you’d like to tell us about it, Mason.”
Mason said, “I think you’d better take a look down there first, Lieutenant. The reporters have done a lot of trampling around.”
Tragg frowned, looked down at the sprawled body and said, “The officers seem to have the case in hand now. I’ll talk with you for a moment. What’s the idea of the fence running through the house, Mason?”
“Judge Goodwin’s idea,” Mason said. “This house was involved in a divorce action. Judge Goodwin divided it.”
“Who’s living on this side?”
“Morley Eden, the gentleman standing there beside you.”
“Your client?”
“My client.”
Tragg said, “How do you do, Mr. Eden. Why did you think there was going to be a murder here?”
“I didn’t,” Eden said.
“Then why did you think you needed Perry Mason?”
“For your information,” Mason said, “I have just finished filing a suit for fraud against Loring Carson on behalf of Mr. Eden. That is why the newspaper reporters were here.”
“I see, I see. And who is Loring Carson?”
“The man who built the house; the man who sold the lots; the defendant in the divorce action and the corpse down there on the floor.”
“Well, well,” Tragg said, “that seems to cover the situation pretty well. Now who’s living on the other side of the house?”
“According to Judge Goodwin’s ruling, that belongs to Vivian Carson.”
“Wife of the man down there?”
“She is now a widow,” Mason said.
“I stand corrected,” Tragg observed with a bow of mock humility. “And do you have any idea where Mrs. Carson is now, Mr. Mason?”
“I would assume she was over in her side of the house.”
“And how do I get to the other side of the house?”
“There are two ways,” Mason said. “You can dive from the springboard of the swimming pool and swim under the barbed-wire fence, or you can go around the heavy post at the end of the driveway where the fence starts, then go up the other side of the driveway and through the side door of the house.”
“Or,” Tragg said, pursing his lips, “you might crawl under the fence?”
“You might crawl under the fence,” Mason conceded, “but it would be a rather hazardous occupation for a man of even average build. That’s a five-strand barbed-wire fence. The wire is heavy-gauge, and it’s stretched just as tight as human ingenuity and modern mechanical appliances can stretch it.”
“A woman with a slender figure could very probably wriggle under that lower wire without too much difficulty, particularly if she were stripped down to — to what one might call the bare essentials, Mason. Eh?”
“Or in a bikini,” Mason said. “Bear in mind that the thought is yours, Tragg. I didn’t suggest it to you, I only clothed your suspect.”
“Oh, not my suspect, Mason. Not my suspect,” Tragg said. “I was merely surveying the possibilities — the bare possibilities.”
Tragg, frowning thoughtfully, moved over to stand for a brief moment in the center of the archway, surveying the living room.
One of the officers, catching his eye, called, “You’d better look over this way, Lieutenant. There’s a significant wet spot here as though someone had spilled some water, perhaps out of a glass.”
Tragg started to walk down the steps, paused, then, turning hack to Mason, said, “I think a slender woman could have slipped under the fence; a woman wearing a bikini, a wet bikini. Thank you very much for the suggestion, Perry. I’ll remember it.”
“It wasn’t my suggestion,” Mason said. “It was your idea.”
“Exactly,” Tragg said, smiling, “it was my idea and your suggestion.”
Chapter 7
Mason took Morley Eden’s arm, escorted him back a few feet into the hall.
“How did Loring Carson get in this house, Eden?” Mason asked.
“I wish I knew,” Eden said. “The only explanation I have is that when Carson built the house he must have had duplicate keys made so that he could get in and out while he was putting on the finishing touches.
“You see, he erected the house and hung the doors but there was still a lot of work to be done on the interior and, of course, contractors don’t like to have the public trooping in and out of a house.”
“Carson didn’t turn all the keys over to you when the house was completed?” Mason asked.
“I thought he did,” Eden said somewhat irritably. “He turned over two complete sets of keys, but there must have been a third set which he retained.”
“You had no idea he was going to be here in the house?”
“Of course not.”
“Where were you?”
“I went to your office this morning to sign the verification to the complaint. You were out somewhere. I read the complaint and signed the verification. Miss Street acted as notary public. She said I was to meet you here at one o’clock and that I wasn’t to let any reporters inside the house until you arrived.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I went back to my office.”
“And what happened after you reached your office?”
“There were lots of calls from newsmen asking about the suit you’d filed. I told everyone I would be at the house at one; that you’d be there then and that I’d give them a statement at that time and let them take photographs. I said that in the meantime I had nothing to say.”
“You had no idea Carson’s body was in the house?”
“Of course not.”
“How long since you’ve seen him?”
“Some time.”
Mason said, “Carson was in my office. He tried a lot of bluster, but as nearly as I could gather the main purpose of his visit was to try and keep me from filing any action on your behalf. He told me that he was engaged in some rather delicate negotiations and that having a lawsuit filed against him at this time would put him in a most embarrassing position.”