The Case of the Fenced-In Woman by Erle Stanley Gardner Page B

all that stuff," the reporter announced, "but newspapers exist for the purpose of getting news. This is a hell of an interesting situation. You may not want to talk about it, but the newspaper is going to make a whale of a yarn out of it. If you give us the facts we'll have them straight. If we have to get them from someone else we may have them garbled. You have any idea when Mrs. Carson is going to be back?"
    Mason shook his head. "I didn't know she was away."
    "We need a little cheesecake," the reporter said. "A photograph of her in that bikini suit on one side of the barbed – wire fence, and Morley Eden on the other, would be a knockout. He says she handed him a cup of coffee early one morning. Maybe we could get her to pose handing a coffee cup through the barbed wire."
    "I have nothing to say about Mrs. Carson," Mason said.
    "Your client would go for it if we could fix it up?" the reporter asked.
    Mason caught Eden's eye. "My client would probably go for it," he said.
    "This is going to make a helluva story," one of the reporters said. "Any objection to us going in now and going through the place?"
    "Only one side of it," Mason said. "Morley Eden's side."
    "Well, it is his house. He had it built. Does he have keys to the other side?"
    "He has keys to the other side, but there's a restraining order. He can't set so much as a foot on the property. He can't even put his hand or arm through the barbed – wire fence unless he has permission from the owner of the property on that side."
    The reporter said, "Damn it, I'll bet my editor is going to make us wait here until we get cheesecake to go with the art work."
    He turned to Morley Eden. "Haven't you any idea where Mrs. Carson is? Didn't you see her go out?"
    "I got here just about the same time you did," Eden said. "If you remember, you drove in right behind me."
    "And you haven't as yet been in the house?" Mason asked.
    Eden shook his head. "Miss Street told me not to open up until you got here. I was afraid to unlock the door for fear they would push in past me. These fellows are in a hurry and they want a story."
    "We're not in such a big hurry we aren't going to get the whole story," the reporter said. "Let's go inside. We want a picture of you standing on the springboard of the swimming pool in a bathing suit but afraid to dive for fear you'll come up on the other side of that barbed – wire fence. Haven't you any idea where Mrs. Carson is?"
    Eden shook his head, took a key ring from his pocket and unlatched the front door.
    "But you do have a key to the other side of the house?" the reporter asked.
    "I have a key that did fit the side door. I haven't tried it since the restraining order was served on me. I don't know whether the locks were changed or not. I do know they had a locksmith out here so they could get the door open. It may be he changed the locks."
    Reporters and photographers moved in a compact group into the reception hallway. "Which way to the swimming pool?"
    Eden pointed.
    They started hurrying down the steps to the living room, then suddenly the leaders recoiled.
    "Hey, what's this?" one of the men said.
    "Someone's lying there!" Eden exclaimed.
    "Someone's not only lying there," Mason said, "but there's a pool of blood. You boys had better keep back and…"
    His words were wasted as reporters and photographers surged forward. Flashlight bulbs filled the room with spasmodic spurts of brilliant illumination.
    Mason moved far enough forward so he could see the features of the man lying on the floor, then whirled and raced for a telephone. He found one in the hall.
    "Operator," he said, "this is an emergency. Get me police headquarters."
    When he had police headquarters he said, "Homicide, please… I want Lieutenant Tragg. Is he in?"
    "Who is this talking?"
    "Perry Mason."
    "He's around some place, Mr. Mason. Just hang on. He… Here he is now. Hold on."
    Mason heard the man's voice say, "Lieutenant Tragg, Perry Mason wants to talk with you." Then,