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The Case of the Caretakers Cat :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 16 из 146Shuster saw a chance to horn in on a big fee, so he sold Laxter on the idea I was trying to break the will; demanded a lot of impossible conditions from me in order to effect a settlement, and when I didn't agree to them because Icouldn't, he made the most of my refusal. I presume he's collected a fat retainer."
"What do you want?" Drake inquired.
"I'm going to break that will," Mason said grimly.
The detective lit a cigarette and said, in his slow drawl, "Going to break the will over a cat, Perry?"
"Over a cat," Mason admitted, "but really I'm going to break Shuster, as well as the will. Shuster's been setting himself up as a bigtime criminal lawyer. I'm tired of it. He's a shyster, a suborner of perjury and a jurybriber. He's a disgrace to the profession, and he gets us all into disrepute. My God, Paul, whenever he has a client he not only tries to get that client off, but he deliberately frames evidence, so it will point to some innocent party, in order to make his own case look better. He's been boasting around town that if he ever runs up against me, he's going to show just how smart he is. I'm sick of him."
"Have you got a copy of the will?" Drake asked.
"No, not yet. I'm having a copy made from the probate records."
"Has it been admitted to probate?"
"I understand it has. It can be contested, however, after probate as well as before."
"Where do I come in?"
"First, find Winifred. Then dig up everything you can about Peter Laxter, and everything you can about the two grandchildren who inherit the property."
"Shall I go at it in the routine way, or do you want action?" Drake asked.
"I want action."
Drake's glassy eyes surveyed Perry Mason in expressionless appraisal. "There must be a lot of money in cats," he remarked.
Mason's face was grave. "I'm not certain but what there is going to be a chance to make some money, Paul. Evidently Peter Laxter was a miser. He didn't trust too much in banks. Shortly before his death, he cashed in securities to the tune of about a million dollars. After his death, the heirs couldn't find the million."
"Suppose it burnt up in the house with him?" Drake asked. "He'd have had it in currency, you know."
"It may have," Mason admitted. "Again, it may not. When Ashton left my office, some man was shadowing him—a man who was driving a new green Pontiac."
"Know who this chap was?"
"No, I saw him from the window. I couldn't see his face. I saw a light felt hat and a dark suit. The Pontiac was a sedan. Of course, there may be nothing to it; again, there may be. At any rate, it's going to be a swell break for Winifred Laxter, because I'm going to smash that will for her.
"What do you want?" Drake inquired.
"I'm going to break that will," Mason said grimly.
The detective lit a cigarette and said, in his slow drawl, "Going to break the will over a cat, Perry?"
"Over a cat," Mason admitted, "but really I'm going to break Shuster, as well as the will. Shuster's been setting himself up as a bigtime criminal lawyer. I'm tired of it. He's a shyster, a suborner of perjury and a jurybriber. He's a disgrace to the profession, and he gets us all into disrepute. My God, Paul, whenever he has a client he not only tries to get that client off, but he deliberately frames evidence, so it will point to some innocent party, in order to make his own case look better. He's been boasting around town that if he ever runs up against me, he's going to show just how smart he is. I'm sick of him."
"Have you got a copy of the will?" Drake asked.
"No, not yet. I'm having a copy made from the probate records."
"Has it been admitted to probate?"
"I understand it has. It can be contested, however, after probate as well as before."
"Where do I come in?"
"First, find Winifred. Then dig up everything you can about Peter Laxter, and everything you can about the two grandchildren who inherit the property."
"Shall I go at it in the routine way, or do you want action?" Drake asked.
"I want action."
Drake's glassy eyes surveyed Perry Mason in expressionless appraisal. "There must be a lot of money in cats," he remarked.
Mason's face was grave. "I'm not certain but what there is going to be a chance to make some money, Paul. Evidently Peter Laxter was a miser. He didn't trust too much in banks. Shortly before his death, he cashed in securities to the tune of about a million dollars. After his death, the heirs couldn't find the million."
"Suppose it burnt up in the house with him?" Drake asked. "He'd have had it in currency, you know."
"It may have," Mason admitted. "Again, it may not. When Ashton left my office, some man was shadowing him—a man who was driving a new green Pontiac."
"Know who this chap was?"
"No, I saw him from the window. I couldn't see his face. I saw a light felt hat and a dark suit. The Pontiac was a sedan. Of course, there may be nothing to it; again, there may be. At any rate, it's going to be a swell break for Winifred Laxter, because I'm going to smash that will for her.