“You’ve already said you were there, my love,” Caddo said in a panic. “You’d better go ahead and explain now. Otherwise Mason will go to the police.”
“Let him go to the police,” Dolores said.
“I can, you know,” Mason told her.
“Phooey!”
“I mean it.”
“There’s a phone. Go to it.”
Mason walked over to the telephone, said, “It suits me just as well this way as the other.”
He picked up the receiver, dialed police headquarters, asked for the Homicide Department and wanted to know who was in charge.
“Who is this talking?” a voice asked.
“Perry Mason.”
“Wait a minute. Lieutenant Tragg just dropped in. I’ll put him on.”
Mason heard Tragg’s voice saying, “Yes, Mason what is it?”
“You must be working overtime.”
“I am — thanks to you.”
Mason said, “Perhaps I can give you a break this time.”
“Your breaks aren’t the kind we’re looking for.”
“This one is,” Mason said. “I’m talking from the home of Robert Caddo, who runs the Lonely Lovers Publications, Inc., and puts out a magazine entitled ‘Lonely Hearts Are Calling.’ He...”
“I know all about him,” Tragg said. “The rackets department had him up once or twice.”
Mason said, “Robert Caddo had been interested in Rose Keeling. Dolores Caddo found out about it. She went to Rose Keeling’s flat at eleven-thirty and, according to her own statement, beat up on Rose Keeling and threw some ink around. Rose Keeling shut herself in the bathroom. Dolores Caddo says she isn’t doing any more talking. Are you interested?”
Tragg’s voice showed eagerness. “Where are you?”
“At Caddo’s residence.”
“This isn’t some frame-up, trying to spring your client?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“I’m coming right down,” Tragg said. “Hold everything.”
He slammed up the phone. Mason dropped the receiver into place.
“Well?” Dolores Caddo said.
Mason said, “Lieutenant Tragg was somewhat skeptical.”
“Probably thinks you’re trying to get some of your clients out of trouble.”
“Perhaps.”
“What’s he going to do?” Caddo asked.
“We’ll have to let subsequent events determine that.”
Mrs. Caddo said, “Well, mix a drink, Bob. We don’t have to neglect the social amenities just because this lawyer is trying to pin a murder on me.”
“I wish you’d talk frankly to us, my love,” Caddo said, his voice sharp with anxiety. “You know, love, you have this ungovernable temper and...”
“Why, if you aren’t joining the procession!” Dolores said. “Don’t think you can get rid of me and have that Marlow woman by pinning a murder on me. You two-timing buzzard! I want a Scotch and soda. And get some of that good Scotch. Don’t use any more of that prune-juice combination.”
“But, my love, if you were there and...”
“Get that drink!”
“My love, won’t you please...”
"All right," she said, “I’ll get it myself,” and started for the kitchen.
Caddo said in a low voice to Mason, “Look here, Mr. Mason, can’t we square this somehow?”
“I’d like to have your wife tell exactly what happened,” Mason said, “I think it’s the best way to...”
“Bob!” Dolores called angrily. “What have you done with that Scotch?”
“Just a moment, my love. Just a moment, just a moment,” Caddo said, and with ludicrous haste ran toward the kitchen, the bathrobe trailing out behind him.
A few moments later he was back. “Just why did you come here, Mr. Mason?”
“I wanted to get the facts.”
“But you must have had some way of knowing that Dolores was there. There must have been something...”
“Well, there was.”
“What was it?”
Mason shrugged his shoulders and said, “What difference does it make? She says she was there. I found the evidence. The police will find the evidence.”
Caddo walked over to stand on the register, which was now spewing out heat from the gas furnace. The hot air billowed the bathrobe into flapping motion.
“Well,” Mason said at length, “what do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know,” Caddo said.
Mrs. Caddo brought in a tray with glasses, put the tray in front of Mason and said, “Take your pick, just so you’ll know that you’re not being poisoned.”
Mason picked the middle glass.
Dolores took the tray over to her husband, then took the remaining drink, placed the tray on the table, and sat down.
They sipped their drinks for a few moments in silence.
Caddo started to say something. His wife frowned him into silence.
The sound of a siren cut through the night. The scream descended into a low-throated growl and a car slid to a stop in front of the house.
“Let the police in, darling,” Dolores said to her husband.
"Yes, my love,” he said meekly, and went down the corridor and opened the front door.
Lieutenant Tragg and a plainclothes man came pushing into the room.
“Hello, Mason,” Tragg said. “What’s this all about?”
Mason said, “This is Dolores Caddo, Lieutenant Tragg, and her husband, Robert Caddo.”
Tragg pushed his hat over on the back of his head, said, “What’s this about Dolores Caddo going to see Rose Keeling?”
Dolores sipped her drink and said, “Damned if I know. It’s an idea Mason had. He thought he could make it stick.”
Mason said, “Dolores Caddo is inclined to have fits of temper whenever her husband has been philandering. She thought he had been seeing Rose Keeling. Mrs. Caddo called at my office earlier in the day and said she was on her way out to see Marilyn Marlow and Rose Keeling and that she intended to make something of a scene. Naturally, I called to ask her what had happened.”
“Go on,” Tragg said.
Mason said, “She has just admitted to both of us that she had been in Rose Keeling’s flat about eleven-thirty, that she had distributed a little ink around, torn Rose Keeling’s clothes, and tried to administer a spanking. Miss Keeling broke away from her, got into the bathroom and locked herself in. So Mrs. Caddo went out.”
“And the time?” Tragg asked, eyes glinting.
“Eleven-thirty,” Mason said.
Tragg turned to Mrs. Caddo. “What about it?”
Dolores Caddo looked at her husband with wide-eyed astonishment. “I’ll be a dirty name,” she said.
“What about it?” Tragg repeated.
“That’s the wildest fairy tale I ever heard,” Dolores Caddo said.
“Didn’t you see Rose Keeling?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen her in my life.”
Tragg looked at Mason.
Dolores Caddo turned to her husband. “What about Rose Keeling, honey? Do you know her?”
“I have never seen her,” Caddo said, running his tongue along the line of his lips.
“Mrs. Caddo,” Mason said dryly, “is given to throwing ink in her fits of temper. Is that right, Mrs. Caddo?”
She said to Lieutenant Tragg, “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re the law. You’d ought to see that we get a square deal.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Tragg said. “Then I’ll see what can be done.”
She said, “I went to call on Mr. Mason this morning. I had a talk with him. Shortly after I left, my husband went there. He said at that time Mason told him I’d thrown ink all over his office. Mason had smeared some ink on his face to make it look natural and apparently had put some scratches on his face with lipstick. I’d never touched him; I was a perfect lady.