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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 47 из 149I don’t know whether the police will be there or not. Do you know if any one else heard the shot?”
“No, I don’t think they did.”
“All right,” he said, “if we’ve got an opportunity to go over this thing before the police get there, you forget this business about running down to the drug store and putting in the telephone call. Tell them that you called me from the house, and then you ran down the hill to meet me. And that was why you were wet. You couldn’t stay in the house. You were afraid. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she said, meekly.
Perry Mason switched out the dome light in the car and snapped back the gear lever, eased in the clutch, and started the machine boring through the rain.
She came over and cuddled closely to him, her left arm around his neck, her right arm resting on his leg.
“Oh,” she wailed, “I’m so afraid, and I feel so alone.”
“Shut up,” he said, “and think!”
He drove the car at a savage pace up the long grade, turned onElmwood Drive, and went into second as he climbed the knoll on which the big house was situated. He turned in at the driveway and parked the car directly in front of the porch.
“Now listen,” he said to her in a low voice, as he helped her out, “the house seems to be quiet. Nobody else heard the shot. The police aren’t here yet. You’ve got to use your head. If you’ve been lying to me, it will mean that you’re going to get into serious difficulties.”
“I haven’t been lying,” she said. “I told you the truth—honest to God.”
“Okay,” he said, and they sprinted across the porch.
“The door’s unlocked. I left it unlocked,” she said, “you can go right in.” And she hung back, in order to let him be the first to enter the house.
Perry Mason tried the door.
“No,” he said, “it’s locked. The night latch is on. Have you got your key?”
She looked at him blankly.
“No,” she said, “my key’s in my purse.”
“Where’s your purse?” he asked her.
She stared at him with eyes that were indistinct, but her poise was that of one who is rigid with terror.
“My God!” she said, “I must have left my purse up in the room with… with my husband’s body!”
“You had it with you when you went upstairs?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I know I did. But I must have dropped it. I don’t remember having it with me when I came out.”
“We’ve got to get in,” he said.
“No, I don’t think they did.”
“All right,” he said, “if we’ve got an opportunity to go over this thing before the police get there, you forget this business about running down to the drug store and putting in the telephone call. Tell them that you called me from the house, and then you ran down the hill to meet me. And that was why you were wet. You couldn’t stay in the house. You were afraid. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she said, meekly.
Perry Mason switched out the dome light in the car and snapped back the gear lever, eased in the clutch, and started the machine boring through the rain.
She came over and cuddled closely to him, her left arm around his neck, her right arm resting on his leg.
“Oh,” she wailed, “I’m so afraid, and I feel so alone.”
“Shut up,” he said, “and think!”
He drove the car at a savage pace up the long grade, turned onElmwood Drive, and went into second as he climbed the knoll on which the big house was situated. He turned in at the driveway and parked the car directly in front of the porch.
“Now listen,” he said to her in a low voice, as he helped her out, “the house seems to be quiet. Nobody else heard the shot. The police aren’t here yet. You’ve got to use your head. If you’ve been lying to me, it will mean that you’re going to get into serious difficulties.”
“I haven’t been lying,” she said. “I told you the truth—honest to God.”
“Okay,” he said, and they sprinted across the porch.
“The door’s unlocked. I left it unlocked,” she said, “you can go right in.” And she hung back, in order to let him be the first to enter the house.
Perry Mason tried the door.
“No,” he said, “it’s locked. The night latch is on. Have you got your key?”
She looked at him blankly.
“No,” she said, “my key’s in my purse.”
“Where’s your purse?” he asked her.
She stared at him with eyes that were indistinct, but her poise was that of one who is rigid with terror.
“My God!” she said, “I must have left my purse up in the room with… with my husband’s body!”
“You had it with you when you went upstairs?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I know I did. But I must have dropped it. I don’t remember having it with me when I came out.”
“We’ve got to get in,” he said.