The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Dorset faced Mrs. Faulkner, and by the simple process of tilting his hat toward the back of his head, gave her to understand that she was about to be interviewed. The other officers, having spilled through the house in a questing search for the body, congregated almost at once at the entrance to the bathroom.

Sergeant Dorset waited until Mrs. Faulkner glanced up. “Okay,” he said.

Mrs. Faulkner said in a low voice, “I really did love him. We had our troubles, and at times he was terribly hard to get along with, but...”

“Let’s get to that later,” Dorset said. “How long ago did you find him?”

“Just a few minutes.”

“How many? Five? Ten? Fifteen?”

“I don’t think it’s been ten minutes. Perhaps just a little more than five.”

“We’ve been six minutes getting here.”

“We called you as soon as I found him.”

“How soon after you found him?”

“Right away.”

“One minute? Two minutes? Three minutes?”

“Not as much as a minute.”

“How’d you happen to find him?”

“I went into the bedroom and — and opened the door to the bathroom.”

“Looking for him?”

“No. I had let Mr. Mason in and...”

“What was he doing here?”

“He was waiting at the door as I drove up. He wanted to see my husband.”

Dorset turned to glance sharply at Mason.

Mason nodded.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Sergeant Dorset said.

Mason smiled. “Miss Madison was with me, Sergeant, and had been with me for the last hour or two.”

“Who’s Miss Madison?”

Sally Madison smiled. “Me.”

Sergeant Dorset looked her over. Almost unconsciously his hand strayed to his hat, removed it and placed it on a table. “Mason your lawyer?” he asked.

“No, not exactly.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I hadn’t fixed things up with him — you know, retained him, but I thought perhaps he could help me, thought he would, you know.”

“Help you what?”

“Get Mr. Faulkner to finance Tom Gridley’s invention.”

“What invention?”

“It has to do with curing sick fish.”

A voice from the bedroom called, “Hey, Sarge. Look in here. He’s got a couple of goldfish swimming around in the bathtub.”

“How many goldfish are swimming?” Mason asked.

“Two of ’em, Sarge.”

Sergeant Dorset said angrily, “That wasn’t me who asked you that last question. That was Mason.”

“Oh,” the voice said, and a broad-shouldered officer came to the door to stare belligerently at the lawyer. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, I thought it was you.”

Mrs. Faulkner said, “Please, I want to have someone come to stay with me. I can’t bear to be here alone after all this. I... I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Hold it, lady,” the officer in the bedroom said. “You can’t go in the bathroom.”

“Why not?”

A certain delicacy caused the officer to keep silent.

“You mean you aren’t going to... to move him?” Mrs. Faulkner asked.

“Not for a while. We’ve got to take pictures and get fingerprints and do lots of things.”

“But I’m going to be sick. What... what shall I do?”

“Ain’t there any other bathroom in the place?”

“No.”

“Look,” Dorset said, “why don’t you go to a hotel for the night? Perhaps you can ring up some friend and...”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t feel up to going to a hotel. I’m all upset. I’m... I’m nauseated... Besides, I don’t think you could get a room in a hotel this hour of the night, just ringing up and telling them I wanted a room.”

“Got some friend you could stay with?”

“No — not very well. She’d have to come over here. She and another girl share an apartment. There wouldn’t be any room there for me.”

“Who is she?”

“Adele Fairbanks.”

“Okay. Ring her up.”

“I... oh...!” Mrs. Faulkner clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Go out on the lawn,” the officer in the doorway said.

Mrs. Faulkner dashed for the back porch. The men heard the sound of retching, then the running of water in a set tub.

Sergeant Dorset said to the officer in the bedroom, “She’s got a girl friend who’ll be coming over. They’ll be using the bathroom. Get busy on the fingerprints.”

“They’re taking ’em now, Sergeant, but the place is full of latents. You can’t get ’em classified, photographed and all that by the time they’re ready to move the stiff.”

Sergeant Dorset reached a prompt decision. “Okay,” he said, “lift ’em.” Then he turned to Mason and said, “You can wait outside. We’ll call you when we want you.”

Mason said, “I’ll tell you what you want to know now, and if you want any more information from me you can reach me at my office tomorrow.”

Dorset hesitated, said, “Wait outside for ten or fifteen minutes anyway. Something may come up I want to ask you about.”

Mason glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. No longer.”

“Okay.”

Sally Madison got up from her chair as Mason started for the door.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Sergeant Dorset said.

Sally Madison turned, smiled invitingly. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Dorset looked her over, glanced at the officer who was standing in the doorway. The officer closed his eye in a surreptitious wink.