The Case of the Fugitive Nurse by Gardner Erle Stanley

Author:Gardner, Erle Stanley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Della Street Press
Published: 2014-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS ten-thirty Denver time when Perry Mason entered the Brownstone Hotel. He crossed over to a room telephone and asked for Mrs Kirby.

She answered the telephone almost instantly, as though she had been expecting his call.

“Mrs Kirby,” Mason said, “I’m afraid you don’t know me, and I certainly dislike to intrude on you at this hour of the night, but I am an attorney and I would like to talk with you about a matter of some importance.”

“Your name, please?”

“Mr Mason.”

“Where are you now, Mr Mason?”

“In the lobby.”

“Would you care to come up?”

“It won’t inconvenience you?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “I’ll be right up.”

Mrs Kirby, waiting for Mason at the open door of her room, had an opportunity to size him up as he came striding down the corridor.

“Good evening, Mr Mason,” she said. “I presume your business has reference to my husband’s affairs?”

Mason nodded.

“Won’t you come in, please?”

She was occupying a suite which had a sumptuously furnished parlour. Indirect lighting made the room appear soft and restful. The comfortable furniture was an invitation to settle down and relax.

“Please be seated, Mr Mason.”

She closed the door and again turned to study her visitor.

She was a woman in the early thirties, with a sharp, narrow nose, eyes that were a pale bluish-green with dark pin-point pupils. Her lips were thin, and while she had touched them with lipstick, she had made no attempt to widen them. The jaw was firm and slightly pointed. Her voice was well modulated, her words made very distinct by a conscious effort which had apparently been carefully acquired.

“Are you a Denver attorney, Mr Mason?” she asked. “Because if you are I assume that my husband is no longer represented by Mr Redfield, which comes as quite a surprise to me.”

Mason shook his head. “I’m from California.”

“Oh,” she said, and then was silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I am very much interested in finding out something about your husband’s whereabouts,” Mason said.

She smiled. “Who isn’t?”

“I think perhaps you can give me some clues.”

She studied him thoughtfully. “Why are you interested?” she asked.

“Have you heard anything about a friend of your husband’s, a Dr Summerfield Malden?”

She slowly shook her head.

“Dr Malden was a very close friend of your husband, although I am not certain that they kept in touch with each other.”

“I have known virtually nothing about my husband for the last four years,” she said, with concentrated hatred in her voice.

Studying her, Mason raised his eyebrows and said sympathetically: “And yet you have remained married to him?”

“Unfortunately I have been forced to.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Mason murmured, his tone inviting confidences.

She said: “For the past four years all of my contact with my husband has been through his attorney, Mr Horace L. Redfield, and Mr Redfield knows every legal trick there is to know. I have been crucified on a cross of legal blackmail, Mr Mason.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

She said: “My husband was a reserve flyer. He was called into the service, discharged and then called back.

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