“No, I don’t know. How was it?”
“Well, I didn’t want anyone to see what was in the purse, so I took this bill out of the purse when we were three or four blocks from the hotel, and I knew how much the meter was going to be.”
“What was it,” Mason asked, “a one-dollar bill?”
She started to say something, then instead of speaking, simply nodded.
Mason said, “Della Street said the man looked at the bill in rather a strange way, then said something to you and laughed and put it in his pocket. I don’t think he’d have done that if it had been a one-dollar bill.”
“What do you think it was?”
“A two-dollar bill,” Mason said.
She said, “It was a one-dollar bill.”
“Did you make any statement to the police about that?”
“No.”
“Did they ask you?”
“No.”
Mason said, “I think it was a two-dollar bill. I think the meter didn’t show the fifty or sixty cents that it should have shown if you’d gone from the restaurant near police headquarters to the Kellinger Hotel. I think the meter showed around a dollar and eighty cents. I think that means you took a side excursion, and I’m making one guess as to where that excursion would have been.”
She looked up at him defiantly.
“To Tom Gridley’s boardinghouse or apartment — or wherever he lives,” Mason said.
She lowered her eyes.
“Don’t you see,” Mason went on patiently, “the officers are going to trace every step you made. They’re going to locate the taxicab that took you to the Kellinger Hotel; they’re going to find out everything you did. They’ll comb the city with a fine tooth comb. If necessary, they’ll cover every taxicab in the city, but they won’t have to do that. They’ll start at police headquarters, get the numbers of taxicabs that were on duty at that hour, interview the drivers that were stationed around there. They’ll find the man that took you to the Kellinger Hotel. He’ll remember the trip — particularly if you gave him a two-dollar bill, and he made some comment to you about a two-dollar bill being unlucky, and if you told him he could keep the change, or if he didn’t like a two-dollar bill you’d give him the exact change, or something of that sort.”
She bit her lip.
“So,” Mason said, “you’d better at least come clean with me.”
“All right,” she said defiantly, “I went to Tom’s place.”
“And got the gun,” Mason said.
“No, Mr. Mason. Honestly I didn’t. I had the gun in my purse all the time. I found it just where I told you I did.”
“And Sergeant Dorset was taking you around all that time with a gun in your purse?”
“Yes.”
“And why did you go to Tom’s place?”
“Because I knew it was his gun. You see, Mr. Mason, when I went to the pet store last night, I got there very shortly after Mr. Faulkner had left. I found Mr. Rawlins terribly upset. He told me he’d lost his temper and told Mr. Faulkner just what he thought of him. He told me Mr. Faulkner had taken some things that belonged to Tom, but he said he wouldn’t tell me about what they were until today, because he said he didn’t want me to do anything rash, and he didn’t think Tom should know about it while he was having one of his bad spells.
“Well, at the time I didn’t know what those things were. It was afterwards that I learned from the police it had been this gun of Tom’s and the can of remedy that Tom had mixed up and put in the safe. If I’d known Mr. Faulkner had taken the gun I wouldn’t have been so frightened when I saw it there on the dresser in Mr. Faulkner’s house. But the minute I saw it, I recognized it as Tom’s gun. You see, he’d etched his initials on the barrel with some acid. I used to shoot the gun a lot. I’m a pretty darn good shot with a revolver, even if I do say it myself. Well, when I saw that gun there on the dresser, and saw it was Tom’s gun, I was panic-stricken. I just scooped it into my purse while you were there in the bathroom looking at the body on the floor.
“Then, just as soon as I could get away from the police, which was when I went into that restaurant, I called Tom up. I did that right after I’d called Miss Street. I told Tom that I had to see him right away, and to be sure that the door of his apartment was unlocked so I could get in.”
“So what did you do?”
“I had the taxi take me down there. I went in to see Tom. I told him what had happened. He was absolutely flabbergasted. Then I showed him the gun and asked him if he’d had any trouble with Faulkner and he — he told me the truth.”
“What was the truth?”
“He told me that he’d been keeping the gun at the pet store for the last six months; that Rawlins had told him there’d been some stickups in the neighborhood and that he wished he had a gun but he couldn’t get one, and Tom said he had one, and Rawlins got Tom to bring it to the store. Then late yesterday afternoon, when Faulkner went down and took an inventory of stock that was in the store, and took that batch of fish remedy Tom had mixed up, Faulkner must have seen the gun there and decided that he wanted it and took it home with him. That, of course, was just what happened. Rawlins has said so, and the police were fair with me. They told me about it before I made my statement to them.”
Mason studied her thoughtfully, said, “When Tom found out that Faulkner had been down there and taken the jar of stuff containing his formula and sent it out to be analyzed, he became angry. He went up to Faulkner’s house to try and effect a settlement. Faulkner gave him a check for a thousand dollars...”
“No he didn’t, Mr. Mason. Tom didn’t go out to Faulkner’s house at all, and he didn’t know a thing about Faulkner taking the remedy. I didn’t know it myself until the police told me. You can prove that by asking Rawlins.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely.”
Mason shook his head and said, “That doesn’t check. Faulkner had made out a check for a thousand dollars to Tom Gridley. He was filling in the check stub when he was shot.”
“I know that’s what the officers say, but Tom didn’t go out there.”
Mason thought for a moment, then said, “If Faulkner found the gun in the pet shop and took it out to the house with him, how does it happen that Faulkner’s fingerprints aren’t on it?”
She said, “I can’t tell you that. Mr. Faulkner picked it up at the pet shop. I don’t think there’s any question about that. Even the police say that.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Look here,” he charged, “when you found that gun there on the dresser, you became panic-stricken. You thought Tom had gone out there to have a showdown with Faulkner and had lost his temper and killed Faulkner, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly that, Mr. Mason. I just didn’t think it was a good place for Tom’s gun to be. I was all upset, and when I saw the gun there... well, I didn’t think.”
“You did too,” Mason said. “You picked that gun up and wiped all the fingerprints off it, didn’t you?”
“Honestly I didn’t, Mr. Mason. I just picked up the gun and dropped it into my purse. I didn’t think about fingerprints. I just wanted to get that gun out of the way. That’s all I was thinking of.”
Mason said, “All right. Now let’s get back to the two thousand dollars. Faulkner had that two thousand dollars in the pocket of his trousers, didn’t he?”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Yes.”
“Just the two thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“In the pocket of his trousers?”