08 The Case Of The Sleepwalker's Niece by Erle Stanley Gardner

Author:Erle Stanley Gardner [Gardner, Erle Stanley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XV

HELEN WARRINGTON sat in the overstuffed black leather chair directly opposite from Mason and looked frightened. It was the hour when there was a lull in traffic. The office workers had gone home. The tide of theater-goers and pleasure-hunters had not yet commenced to swell the downtown streets. The cream-colored, indirect lighting fixture in the center of the room shed a mellow light which showed her to advantage - a tall, straight-limbed brunette with large, dark eyes, midnight hair and very red lips. Her black-gloved hands nervously smoothed her dress over her crossed knees. “The question,” Mason said, “is whether you’re willing to do something for Kent.”

“Of course I’m willing to.”

Mason, staring steadily at her, said, “You’re nervous.”

She laughed, and the laughter caught in her throat. “Yes, I’m nervous,” she admitted. “Who wouldn’t be! A man tapped me on the shoulder, said he was a detective and that you wanted to see me right away. Before I had a chance to get my thoughts together, he bundled me into a car and brought me here.”

“You’re engaged to Bob Peasley?” Mason asked.

For a moment there was defiance in the dark eyes. “Does that enter into the situation?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Very well, then, I’m engaged to him.”

“Why haven’t you married him?”

“I prefer not to discuss that.”

“I thought you wanted to help Mr. Kent.”

“I don’t see how it’s going to help Mr. Kent to have you prying into my private affairs.”

“I’m afraid,” Mason told her, “you’ll have to take my word for that.”

“We haven’t married because of financial reasons.”

“He has a hardware store, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Business poor?”

“He’s overstocked with obsolete merchandise. He picked up a place at a receiver’s sale. It’ll take him months to get the old stuff turned into money - if it’s any of your business.”

“Take it easy, sister,” Mason told her, drumming with his fingertips on the edge of his desk. She said nothing, but her eyes showed indignation. “You’re living in Kent’s house?”

“Yes, of course; what’s that got to do with it?”

“Any detectives there now?”

“No, they made photographs, diagrams, and took measurements. They were there nearly all the afternoon.”

“As your accepted suitor, there wouldn’t be anything unusual in Peasley coming to call on you?”

“Certainly not.”

Mason said, “Perhaps I’d better give you my theory of this case: Peter Kent is in a spot. Under the law, he can’t be convicted of a murder until he’s proven guilty beyond all reasonable doubt. I don’t think the Prosecution could make a case if it wasn’t for Duncan’s testimony. Personally, I think Duncan’s a pompous old fossil who’s going to consider the facts of the case secondary to the appearance he makes on the witness stand.”

“Well?” she asked, her tone more conciliatory.

“An ordinary witness might be trapped on cross-examination, but Duncan’s a lawyer. As such, he’s more or less familiar with courtroom technique. He knows something about the ordinary traps he’ll have to avoid. There’s enough circumstantial evidence in the case to corroborate Duncan’s testimony. If I can’t shake him on cross-examination I’ll have to rely on a defense of sleepwalking.

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