“Let’s go back and look at the evidence,” Mason said. “Faulkner was very anxious to attend a banquet where some goldfish experts were to talk and where he was to mingle with some other goldfish collectors. He was in such a hurry that he wouldn’t even discuss matters with Sally Madison. He rushed her out of the house. He had drawn the water for his bath. He had shaved but part of his face, still had lather on it. It’s reasonable to suppose that after he put Sally Madison out, he washed his face. Then, before he had had a chance to clean his razor, before he had had a chance to take off his clothes and hastily jump into his hot bath, the telephone rang.
“Whatever was said over the telephone was something that was of the greatest importance to Harrington Faulkner. It was something that caused him to forego his bath, to put on his shirt, tie and coat and go dashing out to meet the person who had telephoned. That person must have been either you, Genevieve, or both. He paid over the twenty-five thousand dollars, and then returned to his house. By that time it was too late to attend the banquet. The water, which had been hot in the bathtub when he had drawn it some time before, had now become cold.
“Harrington Faulkner had another appointment he didn’t care to miss. But he had an hour or so before that appointment. He decided that he’d treat a fish that had tail rot, and then segregate that fish from the others. The treatment for tail rot is to immerse the fish in equal parts of hydrogen of peroxide and water. So Faulkner once more took off his coat and shirt, went to the kitchen, got a graniteware pot, put equal parts of hydrogen of peroxide in water in it, immersed the fish in that water, and then, when the treatment was finished, put that fish in the bathtub.
“At that point, Faulkner remembered that he had given a thousand-dollar check payable to Tom Gridley, which he hadn’t entered on the stub of his checkbook and therefore hadn’t deducted from his bank account. In view of the twenty-five-thousand dollar withdrawal, the balance in his checking account had been diminished materially, and he wanted to be certain that he kept right up to date on it. So he got his checkbook, took his fountain pen from the pocket of his coat, and picked up a magazine to use as a backer so he could write. He found that one magazine wasn’t enough, so at random, he picked up two old magazines. There was some reason why he remained in the bathroom to write that check stub. It probably had to do with the exact timing of his fish treatment. He was writing on the stub of that check when he was killed.”
Dixon yawned and politely stifled the yawn with his forefinger. “I’m afraid, Mr. Mason, you’re not getting anywhere with that theory.”
Mason said, “Perhaps not, but my own idea is that once the police start questioning Mrs. Genevieve Faulkner along the lines of that theory of mine, they’ll either force her to disgorge that other twenty-three thousand dollars and make a statement which will clarify the situation, or they’ll start searching the place and find the twenty-three thousand dollars.”
With elaborate courtesy, Dixon moved over toward the phone. “Would you like to have me call the police and suggest that to them?”
Mason looked him squarely in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, “and when you make the cad, ask for Lieutenant Tragg.”
Dixon shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid, Mason, that you want us to play into your hands. On second thought, I’ve decided that I’m simply not going to have anything to do with this.”
Mason grinned. “You made a bluff, just as I did yesterday, and this time I’m calling it. When you called me, I actually telephoned Tragg. Now go ahead and be as good a sport as I was.”
“You’re too anxious,” Dixon said, and walked back to his chair.
Mason said, “All right, if you won’t do it, I’d do it.”
“Go right ahead.”
Mason moved over to the telephone, turned back over his shoulder and said, “That one-thousand dollar check to Tom Gridley is the payoff. You didn’t want to buy the business and have any possible claims outstanding that might involve litigation. So you telephoned Tom Gridley and asked him if he’d accept a thousand dollars by way of a complete settlement. Gridley said he would. So you had Faulkner sign a check for that amount right here, which you mailed to Gridley. But when you learned Faulkner had been murdered, you had to get that check back. At the time you didn’t realize you were gambling with Sally Madison’s life. You only knew that if you could keep it from becoming known that Faulkner had rushed out here, you would be in a position to keep twenty-three thousand dollars in cold, hard cash, and still have plenty of opportunity to buy the business at your own price from Faulkner’s estate.”
Dixon said, “Come, come, Mr. Mason. This is being said in the presence of a witness. Tomorrow I shall sue you for defamation of character. You must have something on which to pin such a fantastic story.”
Mason said, “I have the word of my client.”
Dixon smiled. “For a veteran lawyer, you’re most susceptible to feminine charm.”
Mason said, “And I also have some shrewd deduction. You got up this morning and went to the corner drug store for breakfast. You were there an hour. That’s a long time to eat a light breakfast at a corner drug store. When I drove up, I looked the drug store over. There’s a mail box in front of it. The hour of the first mail collection in the morning is seven forty-five. I think the mailman who collects the mail will be able to testify that when he opened the box you were there with a plausible story and a bribe. You had inadvertently mailed a letter to Thomas Gridley. It had a check in it, but there was a mistake on the check. You wanted to rectify it. You convinced the man of your identity, of the fact that you had mailed the letter. That is a hunch, but when I play poker, I play hunches. And now I’m going to call Lieutenant Tragg.”
Mason picked up the telephone receiver, dialed Operator, and said, “Get me the police. This is an emergency.”
For a moment the room was completely silent, then suddenly a chair overturned. Mason looked back over his shoulder to see the squat, athletic form of Wilfred Dixon coming at him with a rush.
The lawyer dropped the receiver, swung in a body pivot, and at the same time jerked his head to one side.
Dixon’s punch missed Mason’s chin, went harmlessly over Mason’s shoulder. Mason’s right hand sank into the pit of Dixon’s stomach. Then, as the business counselor folded up, Mason jerked back his arm, raised his shoulder, and caught the man a terrific uppercut.
Dixon dropped to the floor with a thud that was as inanimate as the sound of a flour sack falling to the floor.
Mrs. Genevieve Faulkner sat very calmly, her knees crossed, eyes slightly narrowed, an expression of concentration on her face. She said, “You’re a rough player, Mr. Mason — but I always did like men who could take care of themselves. Perhaps you and I could talk a little business.”
Mason didn’t even bother to answer. He picked up the dangling receiver, said, “Police headquarters? Get me Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide, and get him in a hurry.”
19
It was after seven o’clock when Lieutenant Tragg entered Mason’s office.
“Some people are born lucky,” Tragg said, grinning. “Others achieve luck, and others have luck thrust upon them.”
Mason nodded. “I did have to put it on a silver platter and dump it in your lap, didn’t I?”
Tragg’s grin faded. “I was referring to you. I’d really have hated to have done it to you, Mason, but you’ve slipped it over on us so often, that when you left yourself wide open, I wouldn’t have had any other choice. I was going to put the skids under you.”
“I know,” Mason said, “I don’t blame you. Sit down.”