"Gardner, Erle Stanley - Perry Mason 072 - The Case of the Daring Divorcee" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gardner Earle Stanley)

"Certainly not. I went in to Los Angeles to keep my appointment. I drove back this afternoon and got in just about twenty minutes ago. I smoked a couple of cigarettes, bad a drink, and was taking a shower when I heard voices out here. - . . Now then, Mr. Mason, if you have my bag I'll trouble you to return it."
Mason said, "I'd like to ask a couple of questions first."
"You have no right to ask questions--no more right to have your questions answered than you had to take my key and make an illegal entry into this apartment."
Abruptly Mason became crisply businesslike. "You went in to Los Angeles yesterday?"
"Yes."
"You had an appointment with your husband?"
"Yes, I tell you."
"You kept it?"
"Yes."
"What did you want to see your husband about?"
"That's none of your business."
"A property settlement?"
"I say it's none of your business."
"You didn't reach any agreement with him?"
"Again, that's none of your business, Mr. Mason."
"Where did you spend the night last night?"
"For your information, I spent it in my own home, but there again, that's none of your business."
Mason said, "Look here, Mrs. Hastings, if you're lying, and apparently you are, you've worked out what you feel is a very ingenious lie. But I warn you that you can't get away with it. The police are too thorough and too clever."
"I'll worry about my affairs, Mr. Mason. You worry about yours."
Mason said, "The bag which you left in my office shortly after noon had your driving license, a purse with a considerable sum of money in it, keys, and a gun; and for your information, two of the cartridges in that gun had been freshly discharged."
"What!" she exclaimed, her eyes growing large.
Mason said, "You're a very convincing actress. There are times when I find myself believing your story, and I believe it very much against my better judgment."
Adelle Hastings moved over to a chair, abruptly sat down as though her knees refused to support her weight.
"Won't you . . . won't you sit down?" she asked.
Mason nodded to Della Street.
They took chairs.
She said at length, "Mr. Mason, you've entered my apartment unlawfully for a purpose I don't quite understand. Lawyerlike, you've managed to put me on the defensive by asking me questions and talking about my story not being true. Now I'd like to find out about _your_ story."
Mason said, "My story can be vouched for by my secretary and by my office receptionist. She said you arrived about twelve-twenty, shortly after Miss Street and I had gone out for lunch. She said that you told her that you had to leave the office for just a moment, that you would be right back, but you never returned.
"Then, later on in the afternoon, we found this hand bag by the chair where you had been sitting. Naturally we didn't know it was yours at the time. I took it into my private office and Miss Street and I made an inventory of the contents."
"Did you," she asked, "open the coin purse?"
"Yes."
"What did you find in there?"
"Money."
"How much money?"
Mason nodded his head to Della Street.
Della Street took a notebook from her purse, said, "Three thousand, one hundred and seventeen dollars and forty-three cents."
"And a gun was in there?"
"Yes."
"You say it had been fired twice?"
"Yes."
"Where . . . where is that gun now?"
"In a drawer in my office."
"Where is my bag with the contents?"
"I have it with me."
"Have you," she asked, "some way of proving that you're Perry Mason?"
"Certainly," Mason said.
He took a folder from his pocket, showed her his driving license and credit cards.
"Well," she said at length, "I guess I have to accept your story. Where's my handbag?"
"In my brief case here," Mason said.
"Well, at least I can have that back."