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Atwood’s lips continued to smile, but his eyes were cold and hard.
“You can’t get away with that,” he said. “It doesn’t make any difference whether the will’s a forgery or not. She destroyed the original will. She admits that in her confession. We can prove the contents of that destroyed will, and take under it.”
“All right,” said Mason, “that’s a lawsuit. You think you can. I think you can’t.”
“Moreover,” said Atwood, “she can’t take any of the property because she murdered him. It’s against the policy of the law for a person to inherit property from one he or she has murdered regardless of any will or other instrument.”
Mason said nothing.
Atwood exchanged glances with his client.
“Do you question that?” he asked of Mason.
“Hell, yes,” said Mason, “but I’m not going to argue it with you here. I’ll do my arguing when I get in front of a jury. Don’t think I was born yesterday. I know what you want. You want to be assured of convicting Eva Belter of first degree murder. You think I can help you show premeditation by giving proof of a motive. If you can convict her of first degree murder she can’t take any of the property. That’s the law a murderer can’t inherit. But if she’s not convicted of murder, even if she should be convicted of manslaughter, she could still inherit. You’re after the property and you want to bribe me. It won’t work.”
“If you persist in this course, counselor, you may find yourself in front of a jury.”
“All right,” said Mason, “what’s the English translation of that, a threat?”
“You can’t keep us out of the saddle,” said Atwood. “And when we get in the saddle, we will have several important decisions to make. Some of them may affect your activities.”
Perry Mason got to his feet.
“I don’t like this business of talking around in circles,” he said. “I come out and say what I have to say.”
“Well,” said Atwood, still speaking suavely, “exactly what do you have to say?”
“No!” snapped Mason, explosively.
Carl Griffin coughed apologetically.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “perhaps I might say something which would simplify the situation.”
“No,” said Atwood, “I’m doing the talking.”
Griffin smiled at Mason.
“No hard feelings, counselor,” he said, “it’s a matter of business.”
“Please,” said Atwood, his eyes staring steadily at his client.
“Oh, all right,” said Griffin.
Mason motioned toward the door. “Well, gentlemen, I guess the conference is over.”
Atwood tried again. “If you could only see your way clear to dismissing the applications, counselor, it would save time. As it is, you must admit that we have a perfect case, but we didn’t like the time and expense necessary to present it.”
Mason stared at him stonily. “Listen,” he said, “you may think you’ve got a perfect case, but right now I’m in the saddle, and I’m going to stay in the saddle.”
Atwood lost his temper. “You’re not in the saddle firmly enough to stay twenty-four hours!”
“You think not?”
“Permit me to remind you, counselor,” Atwood remarked, “that you might be considered an accessory to the murder. The police would doubtless be guided by our wishes in the matter, since my client is now the legal heir.”
Mason moved over toward him. “Any time I need you to remind me of where I stand, Atwood, I’ll call you up.”
“All right,” said Atwood, “if you want to be disagreeable about it, we’ll play that kind of a game.”
“That’s fine,” Mason told him, “I do want to be disagreeable about it.”
Atwood signaled to his client, and both men walked to the door.
Atwood strode through it unhesitatingly, but Carl Griffin paused with his hands on the knob, acting very much as though he had something he wanted to say.
Mason’s ma
When they had gone, Della Street came in.
“Did you reach some kind of an agreement with them?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Can’t they beat us?” she asked, avoiding his eyes.
He seemed to have aged ten years. “Listen, Della, I’m fighting for time. If they’d given me a little time, and some elbow room, I’d have worked this situation out all right. But that woman had to go and drag me into it in order to get herself out. That left me with only one alternative—to get her in so that I could be on the outside, where I could do some good.”
“You don’t need to explain, chief,” she told him. “I’m sorry if I seemed to criticize you. It was all so unexpected, and so totally unlike you, that it surprised me. That was all. Please forget it.” But her eyes still avoided his.
“Sure,” he said. “I’m going down to Paul Drake’s office. You can reach me there if it’s anything important, but don’t tell anybody where I am.”
Chapter 17
Paul Drake sat at a battered desk in a cubbyhole of an office and gri
“Pretty clever work,” he said. “Did you have that up your sleeve all the time, or did you just pull it on her when the going got rough?”
Mason’s eyes were heavy. “I’ve had an idea what happened but getting an idea and getting proof are two different things. Now I’ve got to save her.”
“Forget it,” said Drake. “In the first place she isn’t worth it, and in the second place, you can’t. Her only chance is self-defense and that won’t work because she admits he was across the room from her when she shot.”
“No,” said Mason. “She’s a client. I stay by my clients. She forced my hand, and I had to make the play I did. Otherwise, we’d both have been in a mess.”
“I wouldn’t give her any consideration whatever,” Drake said. “She’s just a two-timing little tart that saw a chance to marry money, did it, and has been giving everybody the double-cross ever since. You can talk all you want to about your duty to a client, but when the client starts framing a murder rap on you, that’s different.”
Mason surveyed the detective with heavy eyes. “That’s neither here nor there. I’m going to save her.”
“How can you?”
“Get this straight,” said Perry Mason. “She isn’t guilty of anything until she’s convicted.”
“She confessed,” said Drake.
“That doesn’t make any difference. The confession is evidence that can be used in the case against her, that’s all.”
“Well,” said Drake, “what’s a jury going to do? You’d have to save her on the ground of insanity or self-defense. And she hates your guts. She’ll get another lawyer now.”
“That’s just the point,” said Mason. “There might be any one of several different methods by which she might be saved. I’m not talking about methods now. I’m talking about results. I want you to get everything you can on that Veitch family from the present time, back to the year One.”
“You mean the housekeeper?” asked Drake.
“I mean the housekeeper and the daughter. The whole family.”
“You still think that housekeeper is keeping something back?”