“You see, the crime must have been committed after Jimmy Driscoll gave that gun to Rosalind Prescott. That is, if we’re to believe Wray’s testimony. And there’s no reason why we shouldn’t. In other words, Prescott was alive at eleven fifty-five. Virtually every minute of Driscoll’s time is accounted for after that. Of course, he might have left the telephone and killed Prescott. But I couldn’t figure him as Prescott’s murderer because of things entirely foreign to the time element.
“Notice the manner in which Prescott was killed: He was killed in his bedroom. He was killed with no evidence of struggle. He was killed by someone, who, under the guise of friendship, was able to walk quite close to him, produce a gun and fire three times before Prescott realized he was in any danger.
“Prescott had previously mentioned to the police that someone had been prowling around the house, and, he thought, intended to kill him. It’s quite possible that he had seen Braun while that individual was making some preliminary investigations. In any event, Driscoll, who was his sworn enemy, could not have approached him in the limited time which Driscoll had within which to act, and fired the fatal shot — not in the bedroom of his own house. Prescott would have been too much on his guard, too hostile. No, Prescott was killed by a friend, someone he trusted.
“Rita Swaine could have done it. Stella Anderson might have done it. Mrs. Weyman could have done it. None of those three really would have done it. Rita wouldn’t have taken the gun from its hiding place after she had gone to so many pains to let Mrs. Snoops see her in the solarium. Mrs. Snoops and Mrs. Weyman could have had no possible motive for the murder. None of the three could have approached Walter in his bedroom without arousing Walter’s suspicions.
“There was only one other person who knew that the gun was hidden in that place, and that was Weyman. His wife must have told him, and asked him what to do, whether to call the police, and so forth. Thinking the thing over, it all became perfectly clear.
“Having reasoned that far, and assuming that Prescott was in a conspiracy to get places of business heavily insured, remove the most valuable goods from the buildings fire them, and subsequently, as an adjuster, hold up the insurance company for a splendid settlement, I realized that the gang must have some way of disposing of the goods.
“The redhead in Prescott’s office looked like a phony to me. In other words, she didn’t look the part of a legitimate stenographer, secretary and receptionist. As soon as an investigation disclosed that she was leading a double life, I knew I was right. As Diana Morgan, a rich divorcee who traveled about the country, she was in a position to have boxes and bags brought to her apartment, taken out by Trader, and eventually dispose of the merchandise. Her apartment in the Bellefontaine made an excellent place in which to hide and sort over the loot. Later on, when the conspirators were ready to dispose of it, they could move it out, all packed in trunks, bags and boxes.”
“How about Jimmy Driscoll?” Della asked.
“Driscoll,” he said, “or Rodney Cuff, his lawyer, or both, evidently had some inkling of what was going on. I think Jimmy tried to implicate Rita in order to free himself and Rosalind, so the two of them could work to bring about a solution of the case. Unfortunately, I won’t have time to conduct any postmortems on the clues with Rodney Cuff. However, that young man apparently has considerable on the ball. He figured out just about what had happened all the way along the line.”
“Then,” Della said, “Weyman and Trader must have stolen a car, taken Jason Braun’s body out into the Santa Monica Mountains, wrecked the car, and left the body in such a manner that the features were practically unrecognizable. Is that right?”
“That’s right,” he said, “only I think what happened to Braun’s features took place in the covered van on the road to the hospital. It isn’t a nice thing to think about.”
They drove in silence for a couple of miles. Then Della Street said, “Why did you want Sergeant Holcomb to get into that baggage?”
“Because,” he said, “I figured we needed proof. I didn’t want to start exposing Weyman until I had something definite. Weyman was so clever he acted the part of a surly ox and fooled me. When I realized the truth, I thought he’d dodge the subpoena and it would be necessary for me to make some accusations in open court. You see, Weyman had absolutely nothing to fear from any person in the world except one man. That man was Dr. James Wallace. Knowing that Dr. Wallace would probably be a witness at the inquest on Jason Braun’s body, I couldn’t believe that Weyman would have the audacity to show up. But that’s where Weyman was more clever than I gave him credit for. You see, if he’d refused to obey the subpoena, that would have been an incriminating circumstance in itself. So Weyman outsmarted everyone by claiming that his face had become infected, and bandaging it in such a way that no one could recognize him.
“I thought, of course, that after Holcomb had once got on the trail, he’d shake down Trader and Rosa Hendrix until he got all the dope. But, by that time, our ship would’ve sailed. If Weyman showed up at the autopsy, I wanted to make a spectacular, whirlwind finish. I explained to Scanlon generally what I was working on, and Scanlon agreed to give me a free hand, within reasonable limits.”
“Why didn’t you go to Holcomb and tell him?” she asked.
Mason chuckled and said, “In the first place, Holcomb would have tried to grab all the credit, and, in the second place, he wouldn’t have co-operated. I could never have got Mm to search the luggage of Diana Morgan if it hadn’t been for making him think that baggage contained stuff which would implicate you and me.”
“How did you happen to suspect Weyman as the guilty party, Chief?”
“To begin with, he and Prescott both moved into the neighborhood at the same time — six months ago. Knowing that if a switch of victims had been made in that van, the man who went to the hospital must have had medical treatment, and remembering what Dr. Wallace had said about the injuries being facial and superficial, the wonder of it is that I didn’t suspect Weyman before.”
“Was Trader in on Prescott’s murder?” she asked.
“No. He knew nothing about it until later, because he went right ahead and delivered the stuff to Prescott’s garage. Then, learning of the murder, and knowing the police would search the garage, he sneaked the stuff up to Diana Morgan’s apartment, to take it out last night concealed in inexpensive trunks and suitcases which would enable it to be shipped.”
She frowned thoughtfully, then asked, “Why did Weyman support Driscoll by swearing he’d seen him at the telephone?”
Mason laughed. “Because he was clever as hell. He didn’t care about Driscoll, but by swearing, apparently unwillingly, that he’d been standing where he could see Driscoll, he gave himself an alibi for the time of the auto accident, just in case anyone should get to wondering. It was a clever move. You see, he told his wife all about it, knowing she’d tell Mrs. Snoops, and knowing Driscoll’s lawyer would interview Mrs. Snoops. The way he staged it fooled everyone. I might have doubted whether it was Jimmy Driscoll he saw at the phone, but he planted his build-up so smoothly that until I went back to first principles I never doubted that Weyman was there on the street, instead of in the van.”
“All right,” she told him. “I know enough now to figure it all out. If there are any loose ends I can tie them up myself. You pay attention to your driving.”
Mason stole a glance at his wrist watch, frowned, and pushed the accelerator down close to the floorboards. “And how!” he said.