The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

“Of course,” Mason said, “we are still up against the problem of accounting for the endorsement on the cashier’s check. You’ll note, Della, that that is a particularly damning piece of evidence because it is apparent, first, that the signature of Benjamin Addicks is a forgery; second, that Josephine Kempton is apparently the only person on earth who could profit by that forgery.”

“Why do you say apparently?” Della Street asked. “She is the only person who could profit by the forgery.”

Mason shook his head. “There is one other person who could profit by it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand — and how about her fingerprint outlined in blood on the paper?”

Mason said, “If she’s lying she could very well have blood on her hands from killing Addicks. If she’s telling the truth someone could have pressed her finger against the check while she was unconscious.”

“But the blood?”

“A drop could have been put on her finger or the blood could have come from the gorilla with the cut foot, the one that was friendly to her.”

“Is there any way of proving what did happen?”

Mason said, “We’re going to do something about investigating that phase of the case, Della. I’m going to stop at this service station. You call up Stonehenge and see if the brother is there. I understand he arrived by airplane from Australia and is taking charge of the business matters which Benjamin left unfinished.”

“And if he answers?” she asked.

“Tell him I’d like to see him on a matter of some importance,” Mason said.

“But, Chief, shouldn’t you take any matter up with him through his attorney? Isn’t he...?”

“The attorneys aren’t representing him,” Mason said. “The attorneys are representing the bank which is the executor of the will. I don’t have any matter which is adverse to the estate to discuss with him. I want to discuss something that has to do with an entirely different matter. I want his help in finding certain clues.”

“Aren’t the police going to take a dim view of that?”

“Probably.”

Mason swung the car into a service station and said to the attendant, “You might fill up the tank while we’re putting a call through.”

Della Street entered the phone booth in the service station, put through the call, and a moment later came running out to the car. “He says he’ll see you any time, Chief; that he’d like very much to talk with you. It seems his name is Herman Barnwell. When shall I say it will be convenient?”

“Right now,” Mason said. “Tell him we’re on our way out there.”

Della Street returned to the phone booth, and emerged after a moment or two, saying, “He certainly seems anxious to meet you, Chief. He said he’d read a lot about you in Australia.”

“That’s fine,” Mason told her. “We’ll have a talk with him and then we may learn a little more.”

The attendant had finished filling the tank and was putting a final polishing touch on the windshield.

Mason paid for the gas, swung the car out from the service station and started threading his way in and out of the congested late afternoon traffic.

Della Street, long accustomed to Mason’s driving, settled back in the seat, turned the rear view mirror on the right side of the automobile so she could keep an eye out for patrol cars.

Mason took advantage of every opening he could find in the traffic. Then, as he got out onto the less congested boulevard, gave the car more speed.

“This is the time that they wait to pick up speeders,” Della Street warned.

“I know,” Mason said tersely, “but I’m on a hot trail. I don’t want it to cool off.”

“What’s the trail,” she asked, “or are you keeping secrets from me?”

Mason said, “When I went out to call on Benjamin Addicks the day after he had his encounter with the gorilla, he was pretty badly upset and nervous. One side of his face was concealed with a bandage.”

“That was the right side?”

“The right side. That’s where the injuries were inflicted — most of them.”

“Well?” she asked.

Mason said, “Aside from that bandage which covered the right side of his face and a small portion of the left side, he looked quite presentable.”

“Well, why not?”

Della Street saw that Mason didn’t want to answer any more questions, that he was giving his full attention to driving the car, and at the speed he was driving he needed all of his faculties.

“If I am successful in getting permission to start looking around the house,” Mason told her abruptly, “I want you to keep away from me.”

“To do what?”

“To keep away from me.”

“How far away?”

“Some distance away. Under no circumstances are you to try to cope with any unexpected situation which may arise.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“If we should find another gorilla,” Mason said, “I don’t want you to try to help me. No matter what the circumstances are, I want you to get out of there. Jump in the car, get to the nearest available telephone, and call the police.”

“But, Chief, I don’t understand. Do you think there’s a gorilla hidden in the house? There can’t be.”