“You’d planned your alibi and the murder for two or three days. You were wondering just how you could fix it so you would be found before you had been unconscious too long, but not soon enough to interfere with your alibi.
“You knew that I would have to get hold of Mildreth, Faulkner to connect you with the Golden Horn. Even if I did, you weren’t particularly concerned, because no one in the nightclub knew your address.
“You felt reasonably certain that I wouldn’t be able to get hold of Miss Faulkner until she came to keep her appointment at one o’clock, that then Miss Faulkner would give me the lead to the Golden Horn, that even then it would take me quite a while to locate your apartment.
“As a matter of fact, I almost got here too soon. Thanks to a little detective work on the part of my secretary, Miss Street, I connected you with the Golden Horn almost at once.”
She said sarcastically, “Aren’t you smart? I mean real-l-ly!”
Mason said, “You left Coll’s apartment house after you had telephoned me, drove out to Lilac Canyon, killed Lynk, and then, after you killed him, took a big dose of veronal. Then you drove to your apartment, placed the telephone on the floor, taking care not to change the position of the receiver, and yielded to the drug which was beginning to make you sleepy. By the time I found you, you had just dropped off into deep sleep.”
“That’s your story?” she asked.
Mason nodded.
“Well, go jump in the lake. I suppose you’d like to have me be a nice fall guy so you could get your rich client out of a mess, but unfortunately for you I’m not going to do it. You’ll have to find some other fall guy.”
There was an interval of silence. Lieutenant Tragg looked across at Esther Dilmeyer, then looked away. He studied the carpet thoughtfully.
“Well,” Esther Dilmeyer said, after more than a minute had elapsed, “what is this, a new kind of third degree, or are we just sitting here enjoying the scenery?”
“We’re waiting,” Mason said, “for you to tell us about the murder.”
“You can wait until doomsday. Don’t hold your breath until I start talking. I’m going out. And now if you folks will excuse me, I’ll start dressing.”
Tragg said, “You’re not going out.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Mason has built up a logical case.”
“You mean you fall for that stuff?”
He nodded.
“You’re nuts,” she said, and then, after a moment, made the expression inclusive by a sweep of her hand, “All of you.”
Again there was an interval of silence which seemed to make Esther Dilmeyer more nervous than when Mason had been accusing her of murder. “My God,” she said, “don’t all sit here looking at me in that tone of voice! Good Lord! This is my apartment. I want to dress.”
“You’re not going out,” Tragg said. “You can consider yourself under arrest.”
“All right, I’m under arrest. That doesn’t mean that I have to sit here and look at a lot of sourpusses. And I suppose, since I’m under arrest, you’re going to take me somewhere.”
“Perhaps.”
She flung open her robe. “In my undies, I suppose.”
“No. You may dress.”
“While you guys get an eyeful? No, thank you.”
Mason lit a cigarette.
“Well, for God’s sake, somebody say something. Won’t you at least argue about it?”
“There’s nothing to argue about,” Mason said. “The evidence is conclusive against you, on the poisoned candy. If you didn’t kill Lynk, you’d better start talking. You might have had some extenuating circumstances in your favor.”
She said, “I know your game. You’re trying to get me to talk. Well, brother, since you’re so damn smart, I’ll tell you something. Little Esther knows her rights. She’s going to sit very quiet and not answer a single damn question. If the cops think they have enough to hold me on, they can take me up in front of a jury, and I’ll get a lawyer who won’t turn out to be a double-crosser. Then we’ll see what happens.”
Mason said, “That’s fair enough if you deliberately murdered him in cold blood, but if you shot him in self-defense, or if it was an accident, you’re going to have to say so now.”
“Why now?” she asked.
“Because if you keep quiet now, and then try to make a defense of accident or justifiable homicide when you get to trial, it’ll sound to a jury as though you were reciting something a lawyer had thought up for you.”
She said, “You’re a big help.”
“I am at that,” Mason told her. “There are several weak points in your scheme. The police would have stumbled on them sooner or later. Then it would be too late for you to save yourself by telling what actually did happen.”
“Oh, is that so? What are the weak points?”
“The missing paper cups in the candy box, the identical cards, your handkerchief, the telephone on the floor with the receiver in place — and the other things the police will find.”
“What other things?”
Mason smiled. “Think back,” he said, “on what you’ve done. Remember that the police now know exactly what happened. They only need to look for confirmation.”
Her voice was defiant. “All right, let them look.”
“By that time,” Mason said, “it will be too late for you to tell your story.”
“Why?”
“Newspapers will think it’s something your lawyer thought up.”
She regarded him with the thought-clouded eyes of one who is striving to reach a decision.
“Suppose I tell it now?”
“The facts will sound a lot better coming all at once.”
She studied the tip of her cigarette. “You may be right at that.”
Tragg started to say something, but Mason’s quickly imperative gesture motioned him to silence.
“Coll has a key to your apartment?” Mason prompted.
“Yes.”
“Then he kept Bob Lawley here the day after the murder while you were in the hospital?”
“I suppose so. I wouldn’t know about that.”
“You’re in love with Coll?”
“Not now. I was crazy over him. I’ll get over it all right. It’ll wear off. It has before, and it will again.”
Mason looked at his watch. “Well, if you’re going to...”
“Oh, all right,” she said. “Here it is. I was color for the gambling house. It was my job to make men play, and keep them from quitting when they started losing. I got a commission. A while ago Coll and Lynk put it up to me that Bob Lawley was a rich playboy. I was to help them relieve him of some of the worldly possessions with which he was overburdened.
“I did my part.
“When things got ready for the payoff, they planned to double-cross me out of my cut, and plant Coll’s new girl in on my job.
“That’s all right. I was fed up with the life anyway, but I didn’t propose to stand for a double-cross. I decided to do some calling on my own.
“Bob Lawley carried this gun in the glove compartment of the automobile. I don’t think he even knew it was gone when I lifted it. Of course, I knew they’d suspect me first thing, and I needed an ironclad alibi.
“I decided to send myself some poisoned candy. I fixed it up four days ago — took a few pieces out of the box and put them in a paper bag which I could carry with me, poisoned the rest, wrapped the box and held it in readiness to send to myself by a messenger whenever Lynk gave me the chance to grab the stock. I was all set and waiting.