"Won't you be seated?" she asked, indicating a comfortable chair.
Mason said, "Thank you," and dropped into the chair.
"May I get you a drink?"
"No," Mason said, smiling, "I'm on duty and when I'm on duty I prefer not to drink. Now then, tell me about Dutton's gun."
"About… Dutton's… gun!"
"That's right."
Her eyes were wide with panic. "What about it?"
"Did he loan it to you?"
"Why… why, yes."
"Where is it?" Mason asked.
"In the drawer, in my bedroom."
"Let's go get it," Mason said.
"All right. I'll bring it to you."
"If it's all the same with you, I'd like to go with you," Mason said.
"Why?"
"One might say, to see how good an actress you are."
"What do you mean?" she flared.
"If you're telling the truth," Mason said, "I think I can detect it. If you're not, I think I can also tell that. It may make a big difference."
"In what way?"
"Let's get the gun first and then I'll tell you."
"All right," she said, "come with me."
She led the way down a passageway, opened the door of a typically feminine room, walked over to a dresser by the bed, triumphantly opened the drawer and then recoiled with her hand on her breast.
"It's… it's not here!"
"I didn't think it would be," Mason said dryly. "The gun was used in killing Rodger Palmer. Now, perhaps you'll tell me how that happened?"
"I don't know," she said. "I-I- Why, I just can't imagine. I would have sworn the gun was here."
Mason eyed her narrowly. "That," he said, "is exactly what I want you to do."
"What?"
"Swear that the gun was there."
"But… but what could have happened to it?"
"Someone took it," Mason said. "Unless you took it and used it."
"What do you mean?"
Mason said, "Did you, by any chance, go out to the Barclay Country Club the night of the murder?"
"No, why?"
"You are a member of the Barclay Club?"
"Yes."
"And, as such, have a key?"
"Heavens, I suppose so. There's one around here somewhere. Wait a minute, I had that in the drawer with the gun."
"You say you had it?" Mason said. "That's past tense."
"All right, if you want to be technical about it, I have it."
"Let's take a look."
She rummaged through the back of the drawer and then triumphantly produced a key.
"Now then," Mason said, "is there any chance that last night you took this key and that gun, went out to the Barclay Country Club, met Rodger Palmer on the seventh tee, had an argument with him over blackmail and shot him?"
"Good heavens, what are you talking about? Are you crazy?"
"I don't think so," Mason said. "I'm just asking you if that happened."
"No!"
Mason said, "There's a pretty good chance that the Palmer murder was committed with Dutton's gun. Now then, as far as you know, that gun was here in this drawer until the day of the murder?"
She regarded him with white-faced emotion. "Of course it was here. Only… only someone must have taken it, because it's gone."
"And you don't know when it was taken?"
Her forehead puckered into a contemplative frown. "I saw it here two days ago, or was it three days ago. I was cleaning out one of the other drawers and wanted a place to put some things. I debated whether to put them in the drawer with the gun. I remember I opened the drawer and saw that the gun was there."
"And you haven't opened the drawer since then?"
"Heavens, Mr. Mason, I just don't know. I'm trying to think. I come in here a dozen times a day. This is my bedroom. I keep things in the drawers. I open them and close them. I-I'm only telling you what I can remember."
"All right," Mason said, "remember that the gun was there two days ago; remember that you thought it was there when I asked you about it. You're going to have to swear to it."
"And this man, Palmer, was shot with Kerry's gun?"
"Apparently so. He was killed sometime during the night of the twenty-first."
"Can they… fix the time any more definitely than that it was just sometime during the night?"
"I think perhaps a little more definitely," Mason said, "but they want to fix it as being around sometime between nine-thirty and two-thirty, because that's when Kerry Dutton was out there at the golf club."
"He was out there?"
"Yes."
She was thoughtfully silent.
"Now then," Mason said, "is there any chance that Kerry Dutton could have been here in the house; could have gone into your bedroom and repossessed that gun from your bedroom drawer?"
She shook her head emphatically.
"Think it over," Mason said. "You see Kerry Dutton from time to time?"
"Mostly I talk with him over the telephone. He -.. he seems to avoid me."
"Has he been here within the last two days at any time that you can remember, prior to the time he had the fight?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Of course, I'm sure. He… he just wouldn't come near me. He was terribly hurt."
"Now, the night of the fight was the night of the murder… Was he in your bedroom at any time prior to the start of the fight?"
"Not before the fight started, but afterwards they were all over the place."
"What happened?"
"Fred had been here to see me. He was elated. He wanted me to marry him and to use all the Steer Ridge Oil stock to give him some money with which to carry out that pet project of his."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him I'd have to think it over."
"Then what happened?"
"Then he went home and, shortly afterwards, Kerry was at the door."
"And what did Kerry want?"
"He said he wanted to talk with me privately."
"You invited him in?"
"Yes, of course."
"What was the situation between you? Were relations strained or cordial?"
"I tried to be cordial, but he was terribly standoffish. Finally I asked him what was the matter with him and why he had been so distant during the past few weeks, why he had been avoiding me.
"He said he had something to tell me, that it was going to be difficult. I thought he was going to tell me again how much he loved me and ask me to marry him."
"And you had told him prior to that time that the subject was distasteful to you, that you would be his young sister, but that if he wouldn't be content with that, you couldn't continue being friends?"
Her eyes shifted from Mason's, then she said suddenly, "I wish I'd bitten my tongue off before I'd told him that."
"Why? Had you changed your mind?"
"Frankly, Mr. Mason, I don't know. But it made such a difference in Kerry. It was just as if all the lights had gone off."
"All right, getting back to the night of the twentyfirst," Mason said, "what happened? You asked him why he had been so distant?"
"Well, I… I was glad to see him but had the impression he'd been waiting outside watching Fred's car and waiting for Fred to drive away, and somehow there was something about that that I didn't like."
"And then what happened?"
"Fred had either forgotten something or else he knew that Kerry was waiting. I don't know which. But Kerry was just telling me that he had something to tell me, that he hoped I wouldn't tell Fred or tell Fred's mother. He said they were trying to dominate my thinking and said I should quit running around with that type of person."
"And then," Mason prompted, as she hesitated.
"And then, all of a sudden, Fred's voice came from the doorway. He'd come back and hadn't knocked or pressed the button or anything. He just opened the door and stood there sneering."