Mason said, “The label was pasted on with glue. The glue was similar in composition to some that is used at the Golden Horn, and, most important of all, the glue had set so thoroughly that the police were able to tell that the label had been put on at least forty-eight hours before the package was sent.”
“Well,” she said, “I guess the police are a lot smarter than I’d ever thought they were.”
“They are,” Mason commented dryly.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Yes. Bear in mind that the label was prepared for the candy more than forty-eight hours before it was sent to you. Now, you’ve worked in a candy factory. You know something about what a job it is to tamper with chocolate creams, and then leave them so perfectly finished in appearance that there wouldn’t seem to be anything wrong.”
“Yes, I can appreciate that. It wouldn’t be such a difficult job if one knew how, but it’s no job for a bungler.”
“Now also bear in mind that the card which accompanied the candy was one which had previously been enclosed with an orchid corsage sent to you.”
“Either that or it’s an exact duplicate,” Esther Dilmeyer said, avoiding Mildreth Faulkner’s eyes.
Mildreth laughed. “I certainly hope you don’t think that I went back and sent the candy with another card.”
Esther Dilmeyer didn’t look at her. She said to Perry Mason, “I’m only answering questions so we can help get the thing cleared up.”
The smile left Mildreth Faulkner’s lips. “Then you do think that I sent you the candy?” she asked.
Esther said, “I like to live and let live.” She turned slowly to face Mildreth Faulkner. “I don’t want to make any accusations or insinuations, but just the same that certainly looked like your handwriting on the card.”
“Why, I never...”
“Easy, Miss Faulkner,” Mason warned. “Let’s develop the facts a little bit before we start looking for the person who sent that candy. Now then, Miss Dilmeyer, when you got that candy, and saw the card on the inside, you felt completely at ease. Is that right?”
“Yes, naturally. I’d met Miss Faulkner, found her very charming, and sympathetic — although she had grounds for being otherwise if she wanted to be — well, you know, narrow-minded about things and hold me responsible for things which were entirely beyond my control.”
“I see, but that possibility hadn’t occurred to you at the time you received the candy?”
“No. I thought she was a very nice person. She was going to give me a job, and I felt very friendly and — well, loyal.”
Mason said, “Let’s see where that leaves us. The person who sent the candy was someone who had access to virtually everything at the Golden Horn, someone who could use Mr. Lynk’s typewriter, open the desk drawer, take out some of Lynk’s stationery, use the glue pot, someone who knew something about the manner in which packages were handled at the package-delivery service during the rush hour; and, last of all, someone who was able to get that card which had been sent with the orchids and put it in the candy before the candy was delivered to the messenger service. That was an interval of less than thirty minutes. That calls for rather fast work.”
“Unless,” Esther Dilmeyer said, and then stopped.
“Unless what?”
“Unless Miss Faulkner was the one who sent the candy. If she did, there were two cards, and... and... well, that’s all there is to it.”
Mason said, “I’ve carefully investigated Miss Faulkner. She would have been unable to have sent the candy even if she’d wanted to.”
“What do you mean?”
“She hasn’t had sufficient experience with handling chocolates to have doctored the candy for one thing, and for another, she didn’t have any access to the Golden Horn forty-eight hours prior to the time the candy was sent. No, there’s only one person who meets all of those requirements.”
“Who?” Esther Dilmeyer asked.
“You,” Mason said quietly.
She half rose from her chair. “Me! You mean...”
“I mean,” Mason went on, “that you were the only one who could have sent that candy. You sent it to yourself.”
“And then ate a lot of poison just to put myself in the hospital?” she asked sarcastically.
Lieutenant Tragg leaned forward, started to say something to Mason. Mason, without taking his eyes from Esther Dilmeyer, said, “Shut up, Tragg,” and then to Esther Dilmeyer, “You didn’t eat any drugged candy.”
“Oh, I didn’t?” she said. “I just wanted to get a ride to the hospital. I was pretending to be asleep and fooled the doctor, is that it?”
“No. You took a big dose of veronal, but you didn’t get it in the candy.”
She made a show of irritation. “Listen, I’ve got some things to do tonight. I understand that you saved my life. At any rate, you paid my hospital bill. I felt grateful to you, but you have bats in your belfry, and I haven’t all night to sit here and listen to you spout a lot of theories.”
“You see,” Mason went on, “each piece of candy was held in a little brown paper cup folded and scalloped so as to fit around the piece of candy.”
“Well?” she asked.
“In the box of candy which was on the table,” Mason went on, “several pieces were missing, but the little paper containers were also missing, and those weren’t anywhere in the room. You’d hardly have devoured the papers as well as the candy.”
A swift flicker of expression showed on her face.
Mason followed up his advantage quickly. “But where you gave yourself away was when you told me that when you saw the card in the candy box, with the initials ‘M.F.’ on it, you were completely reassured. If you’d been telling the truth, that card would have made you suspicious, because, not thirty minutes earlier, you had received an orchid corsage with an identical card. You will even notice that on the card there were two pinholes, showing where the card had been pinned to the orchids. It’s hardly possible that you could have failed to notice that.”
“You’re cuckoo,” she said. “Why would I want to send myself poisoned candy?”
“Because,” Mason said, “you wanted an alibi.”
“An alibi for what?”
“For killing Lynk.”
“Oh, so I killed him, did I?”
Mason nodded. “And then gave yourself away by trying to implicate too many people this afternoon in court. Magard, Peavis, Irma Radine... You very adroitly suggested numbers of people who knew of your candy-eating propensities.”
“Well, aren’t you interesting!”
“You see,” Mason said, “you wanted an alibi. It occurred to you that it would make a swell alibi if you could be drugged into complete unconsciousness at the time when the murder was committed. So you sent yourself the poisoned candy, slipped out of your evening dress, put on more serviceable and less conspicuous clothes, and drove to Lilac Canyon.
“You probably telephoned Lynk to make certain he would be there. Then you stopped on the way to telephone me. You had to telephone me early enough to give yourself an alibi, but not early enough to enable me to locate your apartment and get out here while you were still out on your murder mission. The best place you knew to telephone from was where Sindler Coll lived. You knew there was a booth in the lobby, that no one would be in the lobby to see you using the telephone, or to overhear the conversation.”
“And just why did I telephone you?” she asked.
“For a very particular reason, Miss Dilmeyer. You wanted to have someone whose word the police would take. You wanted to have someone who knew something about you, but didn’t know where you lived. You wanted someone, in short, who would make a good witness; but who wouldn’t know where you lived or how to go about finding out.