Mrs. Sabin settled back in her chair. “Very well,” she said to Richard Waid. “This is your party. Go ahead and furnish the entertainment.”
Waid said, “I will. The facts in this case are bound to come out sooner or later, anyway. Fremont C. Sabin had been unhappy for some time. He and his wife had been virtually separated. He wanted his freedom; his wife wanted a cash settlement.
“For some reason, Mr. Sabin wanted to have the matter remain a closely guarded secret. He didn’t trust any of his regular attorneys with the matter, but went to a man by the name of C. William Desmond. I don’t know whether any of you gentlemen know him.”
“I know of him,” Mason said, “a very reputable attorney. Go ahead, Waid. Tell me what happened.”
Waid said, “An agreement was reached by which Mrs. Sabin agreed to get a divorce in Reno. When she presented a certified copy of the divorce decree to Mr. Sabin, he was to pay her the sum of one hundred thousand dollars in cash. It was stipulated as part of the agreement that there was to be absolutely no publicity, and that the responsibility was up to Mrs. Sabin to arrange the matter in such a way that the newspapers would not get hold of it.”
“Then she didn’t go around the world, after all?” Mason asked.
“No, of course not. As I told you, she went only as far as Honolulu, took the Clipper ship back, established a six weeks’ residence in Reno, secured a decree of divorce, and went to New York. That was what Mr. Sabin telephoned to me about on the evening of the fifth. He said that everything was arranged and Mrs. Sabin was to meet me in New York with the decree of divorce. As I’ve already explained to the officers, Steve was waiting at the airport with his plane all tuned up and ready. I stepped in and we took off for New York. We arrived in New York on the afternoon of the sixth. I went directly to the bankers to whom Mr. Sabin had directed me, and also to the firm of solicitors who represented Mr. Sabin in New York. I wanted them to check over the certified decree of divorce before I paid over the money.”
“They did so?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“And when did you pay the money?”
“I paid that on the evening of Wednesday, the seventh, at a New York hotel.”
“How was it paid?”
“In cash.”
“Certified check or currency or...”
“Cash,” Waid said. “It was paid in one hundred bills of one thousand dollars each. That was the way Mrs. Sabin wanted it.”
“You have a receipt from her?” Mason asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“And how about the certified copy of the decree of divorce?”
“I have that.”
“Why,” Charles Sabin asked, “didn’t you tell me about this before, Richard?”
“I wanted to wait until Mr. Mason was here.”
Mason turned to Mrs. Sabin. “How about it, Mrs. Sabin? Is this correct?” he asked.
“This is Waid’s party,” she said. “Let him go ahead with the entertainment. He’s played his first number, now let’s have an encore.”
“Fortunately,” Waid said, “I insisted on the money being paid in the presence of witnesses. I thought that perhaps she was getting ready to pull one of her fast ones.”
“Let’s see the certified copy of the decree of divorce,” Mason said.
Waid took from his pocket a folded paper.
“You should have delivered this to me,” Charles Sabin said.
“I’m sorry,” Waid apologized, “but Mr. Sabin’s instructions were that I was to keep the decree of divorce and deliver it to no one except himself. I was not, under any circumstances, to mention it to anyone. The nature of the business which took me to New York was to be so confidential that no one, save his New York counselors, was to know anything about it. He particularly cautioned me against saying anything to you. I realize now, of course, that the situation is changed. Either you or Mrs. Sabin is going to be in charge of the entire estate, and my employment — if it continues — is going to be subject to your instructions.
“Mrs. Sabin has taken particular pains to tell me that she’s going to be in the saddle and that if I say anything to anybody, I’ll suffer for it.”
Mason reached out and took the folded paper from Waid’s hand. Sabin crossed over to look over the lawyer’s shoulder.
“This,” Mason said, as he examined the printed form with the certification attached to it, “appears to be in proper form.”
“It was passed on by the New York lawyers,” Waid said.
Mrs. Sabin chuckled.
Sabin said, “In that event this woman isn’t my father’s widow. As I take it, Mr. Mason, under those circumstances she isn’t entitled to share in any part of the estate — that is, unless there’s a specific devise or bequest in a will.”
Mrs. Sabin’s chuckle became harsh, mocking laughter. “Your lawyer isn’t saying anything,” she said. “You overplayed your hand, Charles; you killed him too soon.”
“I killed him!” Charles Sabin exclaimed.
“You heard what I said.”
“Moms,” Steve Watkins pleaded, “please be careful of what you say.”
“I’m more than careful,” she said, “I’m truthful. Go ahead, Mr. Mason, why don’t you tell them the bad news.”
Mason glanced up to confront Sabin’s troubled eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Charles Sabin asked. “Isn’t the decree good?”
Waid said, “It has to be good. The New York lawyers passed on it. A hundred thousand dollars was paid on the strength of that decree.”
Mason said quietly, “You’ll notice, gentlemen, that the decree of divorce was granted on Tuesday the sixth. There’s nothing on here to show at what time on the sixth the decree was rendered.”
“What does that have to do with it?” Sabin asked.
“Simply this,” Mason said. “If Fremont C. Sabin was killed before Mrs. Sabin was divorced, the divorce was inoperative. She became his widow immediately upon his death. You can’t get a divorce from a dead man.”
And the silence which followed was broken by Mrs. Sabin’s shrill laughter. “I tell you, Charles, you killed him too soon.”
Slowly, Charles Sabin crossed the room to sit down in his chair.
“But,” Mason went on, “in the event your father was killed after the divorce decree was granted, the situation is different.”
“He was killed in the morning,” Mrs. Sabin said positively, “after he’d returned from a fishing trip. Richard Waid has gone over all the facts with me in a preliminary conference. Those facts can’t be changed and can’t be distorted... because I’m going to see to it that no one changes them.”
Mason said, “There are several factors involved in fixing the time, Mrs. Sabin.”
“And that,” she said, “is where I come in. I’m going to see that none of the evidence is tampered with. My husband met his death before noon on the sixth. I didn’t get my divorce until four-thirty in the afternoon.”
“Of course, the decree of divorce doesn’t show at what time during the day the decree was granted,” Mason said.
“Well, I guess my testimony amounts to something, doesn’t it?” she snapped. “I know when I got the divorce. What’s more, I’ll get a letter from the lawyer who represented me in Reno.”
Charles Sabin looked at Mason with worried eyes. “The evidence,” he said, “shows my father met his death some time before noon, probably around eleven o’clock.”
Mrs. Sabin said nothing, but rocked back and forth, triumphantly, in the big rocking chair.
Charles Sabin turned to her savagely. “You have been rather free with your accusations directed at me,” he said, “but what were you doing about that time? If anyone had a motive for killing him, you did.”