“I’m taking my fingerprints off that receiver.”
Mason said, “You are probably also removing the fingerprints of the murderer.”
“I can’t help that!”
“What have you done with the letter?” Mason asked.
“I still have it in my purse.”
Mason said, “You shouldn’t have taken the fingerprints off the receiver.”
“I’m not going to be connected with this, Mr. Mason! I can’t afford to be.”
Mason said somewhat wearily, “Okay, Marilyn, this is one of the times when I stick my neck out for a client. I suppose I shouldn’t do it. I know damn well I’ll be sorry for it before the case is finished, but when something like this happens, I can’t help it. Circumstances have framed you and put you into an impossible position.”
“What are you going to do?”
“We’re all going out. We’re going to leave the door slightly open. You’re going to get in your car and go home. Della Street and I are going to come back as soon as you’ve driven away. We’ll find the door partially open. We’ll walk up here and find things just as you see them now. Then we’re going to telephone the police.”
“Telephone the police!” Marilyn Marlow exclaimed in dismay.
Mason nodded.
“Why, that will bring them here and link you with it and...”
Mason said, “I can’t help it, Marilyn. I can cut a corner now and then, but I don’t dare to tail to notify the police when I’ve stumbled on something like this. Otherwise I’d be an accessory after the fact. However, when I talk to the police, I’m going to tell them only about my second visit to the flat. I’m going to tell them I came up to see Rose Keeling, that I had Della Street with me, that the door must have been pulled shut but hadn’t quite caught so far as the spring latch was concerned, that we rang the bell and took it for granted that the buzzer would signal for us to come up. We thought we heard that signal, pushed at the door and the door opened, as though the latch had been released by the electric control at the top of the stairs. We went up and to our surprise found no one in the living room. We looked down the corridor, in the bedroom, saw what had happened and telephoned the police.”
“You’re not going to say anything about me?”
“Not unless I’m asked specifically,” Mason said. “Naturally it’s never going to occur to the police to ask me if that was the first time I’d been in the flat this morning. I’ll tell them what happened and it will be the literal truth. I simply won’t volunteer the information that I’d been here once before.”
“And you want me to destroy that letter?”
Mason said, “That letter will crucify you. In a way it’s evidence. It’s evidence against you. As a lawyer, my only advice to you would be to turn that letter in to the police. If, however, you choose to ignore that advice, and destroy that letter, make a damn good job of destroying it. Burn it up where you can grind the ashes into a powder. And dispose of the ashes somewhere! Do you understand?”
“I... I think I understand.”
Mason said, “Come on, then. Let’s go down the stairs and get out of here. We’ll leave the door unlatched, so we can push it open.”
“You’re going to do all this for me?” Marilyn Marlow asked.
Mason said, “When you look me in the eyes and tell me you had nothing to do with the death of Rose Keeling.”
She came close to him, put her hands on his shoulders; her eyes looked up into his. “Mr. Mason, I tell you by all that I hold sacred I had nothing to do with her death. I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you exactly what happened.”
Mason nodded. “All right,” he said, “I’ll take your word for it. Let’s go.”
She glanced dubiously at Della Street.
Mason laughed. “Don’t worry about Della. She’s been under fire before.”
“What will happen,” Marilyn Marlow asked, “if they should put two and two together? If they should find out what had happened?”
Mason said, “If they’re that clever, they’ll find out who really killed Rose Keeling.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said in a tone that failed to show any indication of enthusiasm.
“The question is,” Mason said, “will you back up my play? I’m risking a lot for you. Will you?”
“Mr. Mason, I’ll never, never tell a soul. You can count on my loyalty one hundred percent. One thousand percent!"
“One hundred is enough. Let’s go.”
Chapter 10
Lieutenant Tragg came out of the bedroom and said to Mason, “You haven’t touched anything?”
“Just the telephone receiver.”
“How did you happen to be here?”
“Rose Keeling is a witness on a will.”
“Who’s the beneficiary under the will?”
“A woman by the name of Marlow. She’s dead.”
“When did she die?”
“A couple of months ago.”
“Whom are you representing?”
“Her daughter.”
“What’s the name? What’s the address?”
Mason gave him Marilyn Marlow’s name and the address of her home.
“Know her telephone number?”
“Sure. I called her.”
“What do you mean, you called her?”
“I called her at the same time I called you.”
“From here?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got a crust!”
“Notifying my client of a development like this? Don’t be silly.”
“Telephone anyone else?”
“No.”
“Just the two calls?”
“That’s all.”
“Who came here? How did you get in?”
“The door must have been unlocked. We rang the bell and waited for the buzzer to sound, unlatching the door. I pushed. The door opened. I thought the buzzer had done it. I must have been mistaken. The latch must not have been caught.”
“So you walked right up?”
“That’s right.”
“And started prowling through the woman’s flat?”
“Della Street was with me.”
“Who found the body?”
“I did.”
“Did Miss Street go in the bedroom?”
“No. She stayed here in this room.”
“What did you do?”
“Backed right out.”
“And then called me immediately?”
Mason said sarcastically, “What did you think we did, sit here and soak up atmosphere for fifteen minutes and then call you?"
Tragg chewed meditatively on his cigar. “Any theories about it?”
Mason said, “Sure. She was all packed to go away. She was taking a bath. The clothes she was going to wear were all laid out on the bed.”
“That’s quite obvious.”
“She’d done everything she needed to do to get started, done all the packing and stuff of that sort. Taking the bath was the last thing she’d planned to do before dressing and leaving the flat.”
“Even a cop knows that!” Tragg said, grinning.
“Therefore,” Mason went on, “she must have intended to be on her way within a reasonable time after she took her bath. If you call the airport, you might find there was a reservation in her name on a plane going somewhere. Unless, of course, there was a railroad ticket in her purse, and if there wasn’t, there might be a ticket held in her name at one of the ticket windows.”
“You think she was making a long trip?”
“Just taking a glance at those suitcases, I’d say she had been planning to take quite an assortment of clothes.”
“No other ideas?”
“No.”
“What did this Marilyn Marlow say when you telephoned her and told her Rose Keeling had been murdered?”