The Case of the Curious Bride by Erle Stanley Gardner
Authors: Erle Stanley Gardner
Tags: Fiction, General, LEGAL, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Hard-Boiled, Large Type Books, Mason; Perry (Fictitious character)
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his thumb against the bell, ringing steadily for long intervals, pausing for a moment and then ringing again. She says that the ringing continued for some minutes after the sound of the blow and that she thinks the party who was ringing secured admittance, because she heard whispers coming from the apartment, followed by a noise that may have been the gentle closing of the door and then silence. She lay for fifteen or twenty minutes, trying to go back to sleep, and then, feeling that the police should be notified, awakened her husband and suggested that he make an investigation.
"Police have a very definite clue as to the identity of the slayer. The woman who entered Moxley's apartment and who either inflicted the blow which caused death or who was present when the blows were struck dropped from her gloved hands a leather key container containing the key to a padlock which police feel certain is used to lock the doors of a private garage, as well as keys to two closed cars. From the make of these keys, police have ascertained that one car is a Chevrolet and one is a Plymouth. They are, therefore, checking the automobile registrations to list all persons who own both Chevrolets and Plymouths, as well as taking steps to identify the garage key. Because of the fact that the woman evidently had access to two cars, police are inclined to think she is a married woman whose husband maintains two cars for the use of his family. Photographic reproductions of the keys appear on page 3.
"Because of the absence of fingerprints on the murder weapon, police feel that it was wielded by a woman who wore gloves. They are slightly puzzled by the fact that there are no fingerprints of any sort on either the murder weapon or the knob of the door. Police feel, however, that in this case fingerprints are secondary in importance to the positive identification of the mysterious visitor through the padlock key which was left in the room.
"Moxley's police record shows that his real name is Gregory Carey, that on September 15, 1929, he was sentenced to San Quentin for the term of four years for… (Continued on page 2, column 1)."
Perry Mason was turning to page two when Della Street knocked perfunctorily and slipped quietly into the private office, closing the door carefully behind her. Perry Mason looked up with a frown.
"Her husband's in the office," she said.
"Montaine?" asked Perry Mason. She nodded. Perry Mason half closed his eyes in thought. "Could you get any statement from him about what he wanted, Della?"
"No. He said he'd have to talk with you; that it was a matter of life and death."
"Did he try to find out if his wife had been here yesterday?"
"No."
"How does he seem?"
"Nervous," Della Street said. "He's pale as a ghost. There are dark rings under his eyes. He hasn't shaved this morning, and his collar is wilted at the top, as though he'd been perspiring."
"What kind of a looking chap is he, Della?"
"He's short and small-boned. His clothes are expensive, but he doesn't wear them well. His mouth is weak. I have an idea he may be a year or two younger than she is. He's the sort of man who could be petulant if he wasn't frightened. He hasn't lived enough to be sure of himself or of any one else."
Perry Mason smiled. "Della," he said, "some day I'm going to let you sit beside me when I'm picking a jury. So far you've never failed to call the turn."
"You know about him?" she asked.
"Darn near all about him," the lawyer admitted. "Do you think we can keep him waiting while I finish this newspaper article?"
She shook her head swiftly. "That's why I came in to see you. He's frightfully impatient. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the office if you tried to keep him waiting."
Mason reluctantly folded the paper, thrust it in the drawer of his desk. "Send him in," he said.
Della Street held the door open. "Mr. Mason will see you Mr. Montaine."
A man slightly below medium height entered the office with quick, restless steps,
"Police have a very definite clue as to the identity of the slayer. The woman who entered Moxley's apartment and who either inflicted the blow which caused death or who was present when the blows were struck dropped from her gloved hands a leather key container containing the key to a padlock which police feel certain is used to lock the doors of a private garage, as well as keys to two closed cars. From the make of these keys, police have ascertained that one car is a Chevrolet and one is a Plymouth. They are, therefore, checking the automobile registrations to list all persons who own both Chevrolets and Plymouths, as well as taking steps to identify the garage key. Because of the fact that the woman evidently had access to two cars, police are inclined to think she is a married woman whose husband maintains two cars for the use of his family. Photographic reproductions of the keys appear on page 3.
"Because of the absence of fingerprints on the murder weapon, police feel that it was wielded by a woman who wore gloves. They are slightly puzzled by the fact that there are no fingerprints of any sort on either the murder weapon or the knob of the door. Police feel, however, that in this case fingerprints are secondary in importance to the positive identification of the mysterious visitor through the padlock key which was left in the room.
"Moxley's police record shows that his real name is Gregory Carey, that on September 15, 1929, he was sentenced to San Quentin for the term of four years for… (Continued on page 2, column 1)."
Perry Mason was turning to page two when Della Street knocked perfunctorily and slipped quietly into the private office, closing the door carefully behind her. Perry Mason looked up with a frown.
"Her husband's in the office," she said.
"Montaine?" asked Perry Mason. She nodded. Perry Mason half closed his eyes in thought. "Could you get any statement from him about what he wanted, Della?"
"No. He said he'd have to talk with you; that it was a matter of life and death."
"Did he try to find out if his wife had been here yesterday?"
"No."
"How does he seem?"
"Nervous," Della Street said. "He's pale as a ghost. There are dark rings under his eyes. He hasn't shaved this morning, and his collar is wilted at the top, as though he'd been perspiring."
"What kind of a looking chap is he, Della?"
"He's short and small-boned. His clothes are expensive, but he doesn't wear them well. His mouth is weak. I have an idea he may be a year or two younger than she is. He's the sort of man who could be petulant if he wasn't frightened. He hasn't lived enough to be sure of himself or of any one else."
Perry Mason smiled. "Della," he said, "some day I'm going to let you sit beside me when I'm picking a jury. So far you've never failed to call the turn."
"You know about him?" she asked.
"Darn near all about him," the lawyer admitted. "Do you think we can keep him waiting while I finish this newspaper article?"
She shook her head swiftly. "That's why I came in to see you. He's frightfully impatient. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the office if you tried to keep him waiting."
Mason reluctantly folded the paper, thrust it in the drawer of his desk. "Send him in," he said.
Della Street held the door open. "Mr. Mason will see you Mr. Montaine."
A man slightly below medium height entered the office with quick, restless steps,
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