Perry Mason stared at Marjorie Clune as she sat in the uncomfortable overstuffed chair and met his gaze with unflinching eyes.
"You decided to marry Bradbury," he said slowly, "because you thought that Bob Doray was guilty of the murder."
She said nothing.
"And Bradbury," said Perry Mason, "was going to put up the money for Bob Doray's defense. Is that right?"
"Of course," she said. "I was afraid that you'd say something that would let him know. He'd have taken a dozen death sentences, rather than let me make such a sacrifice.
"Why did you do it?"
"Because it was the only way to raise money for his defense."
"And you think he needs a defense that bad?"
"Of course he does," she said, "you're a lawyer, you know that."
"Then," said Perry Mason slowly, "Bradbury has been in communication with you since you were in communication with me and promised me that you would wait at the Bostwick Hotel."
She stared steadily at him and said nothing.
"Did you call Bradbury," he asked, "or did he call you?"
"That," she said, "is something I cannot tell you."
"Why?"
"Simply because I can't."
"In other words, you've promised not to?"
"I am not even going to answer that question."
Perry Mason hooked his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, started pacing the floor.
"The officers," he said, "have got Bob Doray, they're working on him right now. If I'm going to represent him, it's important as hell that I know what the facts are. Are you going to tell them to me?"
"Yes."
"All right," he said, "go ahead."
She spoke in a low, steady voice. Once or twice there was a throaty catch in her voice, but her eyes were dry, and she continued to speak steadily through to the end.
"I was naturally elated when I won the contest in Cloverdale. I thought that I was going to be a big movie star. I guess perhaps it went to my head. I'm young. I wouldn't be human if I hadn't become conceited.
"I went to the city in a blaze of glory. I found out that I had been trapped; naturally I was too proud to write home and explain. I determined that I had the stuff in me to make good, and that I'd stay on here in the city and make good. That if Patton had defrauded me into thinking I was going to be a picture star, I would let him go to the devil and become a picture star on my own hook."
Perry Mason nodded.
"I didn't know," she said, "what I was up against. You probably know, you live in the city. I tried everything, then I met Thelma Bell; I met her through Frank Patton. I kept in touch with Frank Patton, because I was trying to get some sort of a settlement out of him. My cash was running low, and I wanted to get enough money to stay on for a while."
"Go on," Perry Mason said. "I know all that stuff, or can surmise it. Tell me what happened."
"I had an appointment," she said, "with Frank Patton the night he was killed. The appointment was for eight o'clock. I saw Bob Doray driving his car on the street that afternoon; it was just a glimpse that I had of him, but I knew he was in town. I started in calling up the hotels, finding out if they had a Dr. Doray registered there. It was an interminable job. I used a girl friend's telephone that was on a flat rate. I won't tell you who she was, I don't want to bring her into this. I spent the entire afternoon telephoning. Finally I found him; he was at the Midwick Hotel. I left word for him to call me as soon as he came in. He came in and called me; I told him where I was and he drove out and picked me up.
"I was frightfully glad to see him; I wept and made something of a scene, I guess. I was so happy that the tears streamed down my face.
"He found out that I had an appointment with Frank Patton. He didn't want me to keep it. He swore that he was going to kill Patton. You understand, he really didn't mean it, it was just a manner of expression."
"Go ahead," Perry Mason said as she paused, looking at him with anxious eyes.
"He had that knife in his car," she said. "God knows what had persuaded him to do any such thing, he must have been almost crazy. I wanted to keep my appointment with Patton, but I didn't want Bob to drive me there. Bob insisted that he was going to drive me there. Finally we compromised. I agreed to let Bob take me to Patton's place, and I would go up and tell Patton that I was finished with him once and for all, that I was going to marry Bob Doray. Bob was to go back to his hotel. I didn't give Bob Frank Patton's exact address, I simply told him where to drive me. When we got there, I told Bob to go on and I'd meet him at the hotel.
"Bob didn't want to leave me, he begged me to let him go up to Patton's apartment with me. I became absolutely terrified. Bob parked the car, I guess he parked it in front of a fire plug; I guess he was so excited that he didn't notice what he was doing, and I know I didn't. I told Bob I was thirsty and got him to take me to an icecream parlor. I went into the ladies' restroom and waited and waited and waited. I sent the maid out to see if Bob was still there. He was, so then I had her go out and tell Bob that I had gone out through the back way; there really wasn't any back way, but I did that in order to get rid of him."
"And you continued to wait in the restroom?" Perry Mason asked.
"Yes, I continued to wait in the restroom."
"For how long?" asked Perry Mason.
"I don't know, it may have been five minutes, perhaps longer."
"So then what?"
"So then when I thought the coast was clear, I went out to the street. I couldn't see any sign of Bob; I went just as fast as I could to Frank Patton's apartment."
"Now just a minute," Perry Mason said. "Before that you'd telephoned and left a message that you were going to be late for your appointment?"
"Yes. You see, I'd found Bob and I was so happy, and I wanted to be with him just as long as I could. I knew that I was going to be just a little bit late."
"So Thelma Bell had an appointment with Frank Patton for that night?"
"Of course, her appointment was for the same time as mine."
"All right," Perry Mason said, "now we're getting somewhere. Go on and tell what happened."
"I went through the lobby of the apartment house," she said. "I took the elevator to the third floor, and walked down to Patton's apartment; I knocked on the door, there was no answer. I mechanically tried the doorknob; the doorknob turned and the door opened. I found myself in the apartment. I noticed the lights were on and that Patton's hat, gloves and stick were on the table. I called out, 'Oh, Mr. Patton, or something like that, and walked through to the bedroom. Then I found him."
"Just a minute," said Perry Mason. "Was the bathroom door open or closed?"
"It was open."
"And he was dead when you entered the bedroom?"
"Of course, I tell you he was lying there with the blood all over the floor. It was awful."
"What happened after that?" Perry Mason inquired.
"Nothing," she said. "I turned around and walked right out. I pulled the door shut behind me; I didn't lock it, I didn't have any key; it was unlocked when I went in and it was unlocked when I left it. I went down the corridor, took the elevator down to the lobby; there was no one in the lobby; I walked out of the apartment house and had just started to walk down the street when I saw you. You looked at me in a peculiar way, with a searching look as though you were trying to find out something that I knew, and it frightened me. It was the first time I realized that I might be involved in some way."
"In what way?" he asked.
"Oh," she said, "questions and things like that. You know, the kind of things that you read about in newspapers, where I'd be crossexamined by lawyers and have my photograph in the paper, and perhaps have my word questioned."
"You wore white shoes," he said. "Where are they?"
"Thelma Bell took them."
"Why did she take them?"
"Because they had blood on them, of course."
"Did you know it at the time?"
"Not at the time. I found it out after I got to the apartment. Thelma saw the blood stains on the shoes."
"How did that happen?"
"I walked in some of the blood and some of it spattered on my shoes."
"There was none on the coat you wore?" he asked.
"No," she said, "none. There wasn't any on my stockings, just on my shoes."
"Are you certain," asked Perry Mason, "that there was none on your stockings?"
"Of course, I'm certain."
"None on your dress?"
"Of course not. How could any blood get on my dress if there wasn't any on my coat?"
Perry Mason nodded slowly.
"That sounds reasonable," he said. "Now tell me some more about how you happened to leave the Bostwick Hotel, instead of staying there the way I told you to."
"I've already explained that," she said. "I left because I wanted to be with Bob."
"When you went to see Patton, you intended to tell him that you were finished with him, that you were going to marry Bob Doray?"
"Yes," she said after a moment's hesitation.
"When I saw you at Thelma Bell's apartment, you felt the same way about it?"
"I was terribly afraid at that time," she said. "As soon as Thelma found the blood on my shoes, she wanted to know what had happened. I told her just what had happened as well as I knew. She was afraid that I was going to get mixed into it."
"She told you that?"
"Yes."
"She had an appointment with Frank Patton that night?"
"She had an appointment, but she didn't keep it. She broke her appointments with Patton lots of times, this time her boy friend wouldn't let her keep the appointment, he was out with her. George Sanborne is the name. She told you all about it. You remember, you called Sanborne and found out that it was true."
"We'll let that go for the moment," Perry Mason said. "What I'm getting at, is that you were still intending to marry Doray when I talked with you there at Thelma's apartment?"
"I guess so. I wasn't thinking much about marriage then, I was frightened, particularly after you came there."
"But as far as matrimony was concerned, you still intended to marry Bob Doray?"
"If I had thought about it, yes."
"Now, sometime before midnight," Perry Mason said, "you had determined you were going to marry Bradbury. Why?"
"Because," she said, "I knew that was the only way I could get money to save Bob Doray."
"You think Bob Doray did it?"
"I'm not thinking anything about it. All I know is that he must have the best legal service he can get."
"When you saw the body," said Perry Mason, "you saw the knife that was lying there by it?"
"Yes."
"You recognized that knife?"
"What do you mean?"
"You knew that Bob Doray had purchased a knife?"
"Yes, I had seen it in his automobile."
"You knew what he intended to do with it?"
"Yes. He had told me."
"That is one of the reasons you were afraid to let him know where Frank Patton lived?"
"Yes."
"Then when you saw the knife on the floor, you must have jumped to the conclusion at once that Bob Doray had killed him."
"What sort of a conclusion would you have reached under the circumstances?" she asked.
"Now let's see," Perry Mason said, "you went to the candy store. You went into the restroom; you stayed there and persuaded Dr. Doray that you had gone out the back door?"
"Yes."
"He left perhaps five minutes before you did."
"Yes."
"How long had Patton been killed before you entered the door? Have you any idea?"
"It couldn't have been long," she said, "just a minute or two… Oh, it was ghastly!"
"Was he still moving?"
"No."
"Was blood flowing from his wound?"
"Lots of it," she said and shuddered.
"Therefore," Perry Mason said, "you immediately concluded that Doray had done the killing. You thought that when you didn't show up, but sent word that you had already gone to keep your appointment with Patton, Doray became enraged."
"Yes."
Perry Mason regarded her thoughtfully.
"Do you know what I'm doing with you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm risking my entire professional career," he said, "simply on the strength of the impression that you make, plus certain things that I have observed in connection with the case. You're wanted for murder. I'm helping you escape. If I'm caught, that's going to make me technically an accessory after the fact. In other words, I'm going to be guilty of murder as an accessory."
She said nothing.
"I didn't have that same confidence in Dr. Doray that I have in you," he told her, "that's the reason I left Dr. Doray in the room to take the rap. I knew that if the police found an empty room, they'd make some effort to search the hotel. If they found Doray and he didn't talk, they might not have known whether you were in the hotel or not. That's the chance I took."
"But," she said, "won't they be watching the hotel when we leave?"
"Exactly," he told her. "That's why I've got to figure out some way of getting us out of it; we're both of us mixed in it now."
He strode to the window; stood once more staring moodily down at the street.
"And you won't tell me," he said, "what changed your mind between the time I saw you and midnight; why it was that you so suddenly decided you were going to marry Bradbury?"
"I've told you," she said, "I knew that was the only way that I could get the money to defend Bob. And I knew that if Bob didn't have firstclass legal defense, he would be convicted of the murder. I got to thinking things over, I knew that Bradbury had retained you to represent me. I thought that Jim would also retain you to clear Bob, if he knew that I would marry him."
Perry Mason's eyes glinted.
"Now," he said, "you've said exactly what I was waiting to hear you say."
"What do you mean?"
"He would put up the money for Doray's defense, if he knew that you would marry him."
She bit her lip and said nothing.
Perry Mason stared at her with moody speculation for a few moments.
"I'm going to play ball with you," he said, "and when I play ball, I play ball all the way."
She watched him with wide anxious eyes.
"Take your clothes off," he told her, "and get into bed."
Her face didn't change expression by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
"How much must I take off?" she asked.
"I want your skirt hung on a chair," he said. "I want your shoes under the bed. You'd better have your stockings over the foot of the bed. I want you to have your waist off, so all that will show above the covers are shoulder straps."
"Then what?" she asked.
"Then," he said, "I'm going to have a man come in the room, he's going to look at you. You're going to act the part of the kind of a girl he'll think you are."
She searched for the fasteners at the side of her skirt.
"You're playing ball with me," she said, "I'll show you that I've got just as much confidence in you, as you have in me."
"Good girl," he told her. "Have you got any chewing gum?"
"No."
"Can you move your jaws as though you were chewing gum?"
"I guess so. How's this?"
He watched her critically.
"Move the jaw a little bit to one side at the bottom of the chew," he said, "give it something of a circular motion."
"It's going to look frightfully common," she said.
"That's just the way I want it to look."
"How's this?"
"That," he told her, "is better. Go ahead and get your clothes off."
He walked once more to the window and stared down at the street until he heard the creak of the bed springs.
"All right?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He turned and regarded her critically. Her skirt was over the back of a chair, her stockings were hanging on the foot of the bed, her shoes were under the bed.
"Let's see the gumchewing business," he told her.
She moved her jaws regularly.
"Now if this man looks at you," Perry Mason said, "don't lower your eyes. Don't act as though you were ashamed. Look at him with a 'comehither' look. Can you do that?"
"Who is it going to be?" she asked.
"I don't know just yet," he told her, "it'll probably be the porter in the hotel. He won't do anything except look at you, but I want you to look the part."
"I'll do my best," she said.
Perry Mason came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. She met his speculative appraisal with steady blue eyes.
"There was quite a bit of blood on your white shoes?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Did Thelma Bell have any white shoes?"
"I don't know."
"And Thelma took your white shoes to clean them?"
"Yes."
"What was Thelma doing when you got to the apartment?"
"She had just finished taking a bath. She looked at my shoes and told me to get out of them right away, and get out of my clothes, to take a bath and make sure I didn't have any blood on my feet or ankles."
"Did she look at your stockings?"
"No, she told me to make it snappy."
"You took a street car to her apartment?"
"Yes."
"And about the time you were ready to take a bath I called at the apartment?"
"That's right."
"So you don't know what Thelma did with the shoes?"
"No."
Perry Mason slid around on the bed, so that he sat with his left elbow resting on his left knee, his right foot on the floor, his left leg on the bed.
"Margy," he said, "are you telling me the truth?"
"Yes."
"Suppose I should tell you," he went on, "that I made a search of Thelma Bell's apartment; that I found a hat box in the closet; that the hat box was packed with clothes that had been washed and hadn't had a chance to dry; that some of the clothes showed evidences of having been washed to remove blood stains; that there was a pair of white shoes, a pair of stockings and a skirt."
The blue eyes stared at him with fixed intensity Suddenly Marjorie Clune sat bolt upright in bed.
"You mean that the skirt and the stockings had blood stains on them?"
"Yes."
"And they'd been washed?"
"Very hastily washed," Mason said. "And the blood stains were the spattering type of blood stains, such as would have been made from a stab wound."
"Good heavens!" she said.
"Furthermore," Perry Mason told her, "some one was in the bathroom having hysterics about lucky legs. Now one of you girls is lying. Either you were in the bathroom, or it was Thelma."
"It might have been some one else," she said.
"But you don't know any one else it could have been?"
"No."
"I don't think it was any one else," Mason said slowly.
Marjorie Clune blinked her eyes slowly, thoughtfully.
"Now," said Perry Mason, "we're coming to another phase of the situation. Do you know a girl named Eva Lamont?"
"Why, yes, of course."
"Has Eva Lamont got contest legs?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Legs that would win a prize?"
"They didn't," Marjorie Clune said.
"But she had them entered?"
"Yes."
"In other words, she was one of the contestants?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In Cloverdale."
"Is she," asked Perry Mason, "a young woman with dark hair and snappy black eyes, a woman with a figure something like yours?"
Marjorie Clune nodded.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because," Perry Mason said, "I have every reason to believe that she's in town, registered under the name of Vera Cutter, and that she has taken a most unusual interest in the development of this murder case."
Marjorie Clune's eyes were wide with surprise.
"Now then," Perry Mason said, "tell me where she gets her money."
"She gets it lots of ways," Marjorie Clune said bitterly. "She worked as a waitress for a while. She was working that when Frank Patton came to town with his contest. After that, she did lots of things. She got chances to show her legs and there were lots of people who admired them. She said that whether she won the contest or not, she was going to the city and go into pictures."
"And after you won the contest," Perry Mason said, "then what?"
"Then," she said, "she swore that she was going to come to the city and make a success of her own, which would make mine look sick. She said that I won the contest because I had curried favor with Frank Patton, and that I had an inside track."
"Did you?" asked Perry Mason.
"No."
"You're not telling me very much about Eva Lamont," he said, "and it's important that I know more about her."
"I don't like her."
"That doesn't make any difference, this is a murder case. What do you know about her?"
"I don't know very much about her, but I've heard lots."
"Such as?" asked Perry Mason.
"Oh, lots of things."
"Do you know," Mason asked, "if she looked up Frank Patton after she came here to the city?"
"She would have," Marjorie Clune said slowly, "she's the type that would."
"Has she any reason to be bitter against you, Marjorie?"
Marjorie Clune closed her eyes, slid back into the bed and pulled the covers up around her shoulders.
"She was madly infatuated with Bob Doray," she said.
"And Doray is mad about you?"
"Yes."
Perry Mason took out his package of cigarettes from his pocket, extracted one, had it raised halfway to his lips before he caught himself and extended the package to Marjorie Clune.
"Do you want me to smoke?" she asked.
"Just suit yourself."
"No, I mean when this man comes in. Would it look better if I was smoking?"
"No, it would look better if you were chewing gum, you'd hardly be doing both."
"Then I'll smoke now," she told him.
She took a cigarette. Perry Mason brought an ashtray from the dresser, set it on the bed between them, held a match to Marjorie Clune's cigarette.
"Give me that other pillow, Marjorie," he said.
She handed him the pillow, he propped it against the foot of the bed and settled his back against it.
"I'm going to think," he told her, "and I don't want to be disturbed."
He smoked the cigarette for a few puffs, then held it in front of him and watched the smoke as it curled upward, with eyes that seemed to be filmed with a dreamy abstraction. The cigarette had almost burnt down to his fingers before he nodded slowly, and let his eyes snap into sharp focus on Marjorie Clune.
He ground out the cigarette in the ashtray, jumped to his feet and pulled down his vest.
"All right, Marjorie," he said, in a voice that was kindly, "I think I know the answer."
"The answer to what?"
"The answer to everything," he told her. "And I don't mind telling you, Marjorie, that in some ways I've been a damn fool."
She stared at him and shivered slightly.
"You look perfectly cold, when you look at me that way," she said, "as though you were capable of anything."
"Perhaps," he told her, "I am capable of anything."
He pulled another cigarette from his pocket, walked to the dresser, tore the cigarette in two, picked out a couple of grains of tobacco, pulled out the lower lid of his left eye and dropped the grains into place. Then he pulled out the lower lid of his right eye and dropped a couple of grains of tobacco into that, as well. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.
Marjorie Clune sat upright in bed to stare at him with curious fascination.
Tears streamed from Perry Mason's eyes and trickled down his cheeks. He groped his way to the wash stand, splashed cold water in his eyes, dried them on a towel and regarded himself in the mirror.
His eyes were red and bloodshot.
He nodded his satisfaction, moistened his fingers in water from the tap, drew them around the inside neckband of his shirt until his collar was moist and crumpled, then he pulled his tie slightly to one side and once more surveyed the effect in the mirror.
"Okay, Marjorie," he said, "wait here until I come back, and remember to chew gum."
He walked to the door, opened it, stepped into the corridor without a single backward glance, and pulled the door shut behind him.