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The Case of the Caretakers Cat :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
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"Baloney," the detective remarked. "Pete Laxter didn't expect to die; therefore, there was no reason for him to give away his money."
"Don't be to too certain," Mason said. "He had some reason for turning his property into cash. But let's quit speculating about that, Paul. The main thing in handling a lawsuit is to keep the other man's client on the defensive, not to get yours in a position where he has to do a lot of explaining. However, I'll give Ashton a buzz and tell him that I think his cat is safe."
The detective laughed. "Talk about using a tengauge shotgun to kill a canary," he said, "we certainly are getting into a lot of ramifications in order to keep a cat alive."
"And," Mason said, "in order to show Nat Shuster that he can't cut corners with me and get away with it. Don't forget that angle, Paul."
"There's a public telephone in the drugstore around the corner," Drake said.
"Okay, Paul, let's telephone Ashton and telephone the district attorney."
They strolled around the corner. Mason dropped a dime in, dialed the number listed under the name of Peter Laxter, and asked for Charles Ashton. It took several minutes before he heard Ashton's rasping voice on the telephone.
"This is Perry Mason talking, Ashton. I don't think you need to worry any more about Clinker."
"Why not?" Ashton asked.
"I think that Sam Laxter is going to have his hands full," Mason explained. "I think he'll be kept quite well occupied. Don't say anything just yet to any of the servants, but I think there's a possibility Sam Laxter may be summoned to the district attorney's office to answer some questions."
The caretaker's voice was harshly strident. "Can you tell me what about?"
"No. I've told you everything I can. Just keep it under your hat."
There was growing uneasiness manifest in the tones of Ashton's voice. "Wait a minute, Mr. Mason. I don't want you to go too far in this thing. There are some reasons why I don't want the district attorney messing around asking questions."
Mason's tone was one of finality. "You employed me to see your cat wasn't poisoned. I'm going to do just that."
"But this is something else," Ashton said. "I want to see you about it."
"See me tomorrow then. In the meantime, give Clinker a dish of cream with my compliments."
"But I must see you, if the district attorney's going to start an investigation."
"Okay, see me tomorrow, then," Mason told him, and hung up. He made a wry grimace as he turned from the telephone booth and faced the detective.
"Baloney," the detective remarked. "Pete Laxter didn't expect to die; therefore, there was no reason for him to give away his money."
"Don't be to too certain," Mason said. "He had some reason for turning his property into cash. But let's quit speculating about that, Paul. The main thing in handling a lawsuit is to keep the other man's client on the defensive, not to get yours in a position where he has to do a lot of explaining. However, I'll give Ashton a buzz and tell him that I think his cat is safe."
The detective laughed. "Talk about using a tengauge shotgun to kill a canary," he said, "we certainly are getting into a lot of ramifications in order to keep a cat alive."
"And," Mason said, "in order to show Nat Shuster that he can't cut corners with me and get away with it. Don't forget that angle, Paul."
"There's a public telephone in the drugstore around the corner," Drake said.
"Okay, Paul, let's telephone Ashton and telephone the district attorney."
They strolled around the corner. Mason dropped a dime in, dialed the number listed under the name of Peter Laxter, and asked for Charles Ashton. It took several minutes before he heard Ashton's rasping voice on the telephone.
"This is Perry Mason talking, Ashton. I don't think you need to worry any more about Clinker."
"Why not?" Ashton asked.
"I think that Sam Laxter is going to have his hands full," Mason explained. "I think he'll be kept quite well occupied. Don't say anything just yet to any of the servants, but I think there's a possibility Sam Laxter may be summoned to the district attorney's office to answer some questions."
The caretaker's voice was harshly strident. "Can you tell me what about?"
"No. I've told you everything I can. Just keep it under your hat."
There was growing uneasiness manifest in the tones of Ashton's voice. "Wait a minute, Mr. Mason. I don't want you to go too far in this thing. There are some reasons why I don't want the district attorney messing around asking questions."
Mason's tone was one of finality. "You employed me to see your cat wasn't poisoned. I'm going to do just that."
"But this is something else," Ashton said. "I want to see you about it."
"See me tomorrow then. In the meantime, give Clinker a dish of cream with my compliments."
"But I must see you, if the district attorney's going to start an investigation."
"Okay, see me tomorrow, then," Mason told him, and hung up. He made a wry grimace as he turned from the telephone booth and faced the detective.