Read Online The Case of the Fenced-In Woman by Erle Stanley Gardner - Free Book Online
Authors: Erle Stanley Gardner
Tags: Fiction, General, LEGAL, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Detective and Mystery Stories, Perry (Fictitious Character), Mason
Ads: Link
after a moment, Tragg's dry voice came over the wire, "Now, Perry; don't tell me you've found a body."
"I haven't," Mason said, "the reporters have and they're trampling all over the place getting photographs."
"What place? What body? What reporters? Where are you talking from?" Tragg asked crisply.
Mason said, "It's a house that was put up by Loring Carson on property selected by Morley Eden. Morley Eden is here now and the man who is sprawled in the living room, and who apparently has been murdered, is Loring Carson. It's a difficult place to find, but my secretary, Della Street, has a map that will show you exactly how to get here and-"
"We've got maps here," Tragg said. "Give me the street and number. If there isn't a number on the street, give me the description from the tax record or the deed. Give me anything and keep those reporters away from that body."
"I stand as much chance keeping reporters away from that body as I would keeping a flock of moths away from a light," Mason said. "Here, I'll let you talk with Morley Eden. He'll tell you how to get here."
Mason nodded to Eden, who had moved up close to the attorney. "You tell him, Eden," Mason said. "It's Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide. I want him to get here before all the clues have been obliterated."
The lawyer handed the phone to Eden and ran back to the living room.
One of the reporters was kneeling beside the body.
"Look at those diamond cuff links," he said. "See what the guy has done. He's put some kind of black stuff over those diamonds so they don't glisten, but you can see where some of it came off. That's a diamond underneath all right and… Hey, you fellows, his shirt sleeves are all wet."
Mason bent down beside the reporter. "Homicide is on its way out here," he said. "They'd like to have the scene kept intact."
"Sure they would," the reporter said, "and my newspaper wants the news. Now as I understand it, this guy is Loring Carson. He's the divorced husband of the woman living on the other side of the fence; he's the man who built the house, the fellow who sold the lots to Morley Eden?"
"That's right."
"What's he doing here?"
"I don't know," Mason said. "How wet are the shirt sleeves?"
"They're good and wet, but the sleeves on the coat aren't wet."
"How did he die?" Mason asked. "I noticed blood. Was there a shot or-"
"Look around on this side and you can see how he died," the reporter said. "There's a wooden – handled butcher knife sticking into his back, and I mean it's sticking all the way in. Just the handle protrudes."
"Both shirt sleeves are wet?" Mason asked.
"That's right, both shirt sleeves, but the sleeves of the coat aren't wet."
"How high are the sleeves wet?"
"To the elbows. I'm not going to take the coat off or disturb the position of the body in any way. You can feel the wet cuffs and shirt sleeves."
Abruptly one of the newspaper reporters broke away from the group and sprinted for the hall.
As though his departure had been a signal which triggered action, there was a general scampering exodus.
One of the men grabbed Morley Eden. "A phone," he demanded. "Where's a phone?"
"There's one in the hall and-"
"That's being used."
"There's one in my bedroom."
"An extension or a main line?"
"A main line."
"Lead me to it."
"Hey, Mac," one of the others said, "you can't hog it. You can get first call but that's all."
"The hell I can't hog it. I'll stay on the line until I've got my story in and it's quite a story."
"Where's the next nearest phone?" one of the men asked Mason.
The lawyer shook his head. "There's a service station up where this road leaves the main highway. I don't know of any other place."
A few moments later the lawyer was left alone in the room with the sprawled figure of Loring Carson.
Mason surveyed the dead man, then moved slowly along the room.
Near the body, and at a point almost directly under the barbed – wire fence, the glint of reflected light caught Mason's eye. He bent down to
"I haven't," Mason said, "the reporters have and they're trampling all over the place getting photographs."
"What place? What body? What reporters? Where are you talking from?" Tragg asked crisply.
Mason said, "It's a house that was put up by Loring Carson on property selected by Morley Eden. Morley Eden is here now and the man who is sprawled in the living room, and who apparently has been murdered, is Loring Carson. It's a difficult place to find, but my secretary, Della Street, has a map that will show you exactly how to get here and-"
"We've got maps here," Tragg said. "Give me the street and number. If there isn't a number on the street, give me the description from the tax record or the deed. Give me anything and keep those reporters away from that body."
"I stand as much chance keeping reporters away from that body as I would keeping a flock of moths away from a light," Mason said. "Here, I'll let you talk with Morley Eden. He'll tell you how to get here."
Mason nodded to Eden, who had moved up close to the attorney. "You tell him, Eden," Mason said. "It's Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide. I want him to get here before all the clues have been obliterated."
The lawyer handed the phone to Eden and ran back to the living room.
One of the reporters was kneeling beside the body.
"Look at those diamond cuff links," he said. "See what the guy has done. He's put some kind of black stuff over those diamonds so they don't glisten, but you can see where some of it came off. That's a diamond underneath all right and… Hey, you fellows, his shirt sleeves are all wet."
Mason bent down beside the reporter. "Homicide is on its way out here," he said. "They'd like to have the scene kept intact."
"Sure they would," the reporter said, "and my newspaper wants the news. Now as I understand it, this guy is Loring Carson. He's the divorced husband of the woman living on the other side of the fence; he's the man who built the house, the fellow who sold the lots to Morley Eden?"
"That's right."
"What's he doing here?"
"I don't know," Mason said. "How wet are the shirt sleeves?"
"They're good and wet, but the sleeves on the coat aren't wet."
"How did he die?" Mason asked. "I noticed blood. Was there a shot or-"
"Look around on this side and you can see how he died," the reporter said. "There's a wooden – handled butcher knife sticking into his back, and I mean it's sticking all the way in. Just the handle protrudes."
"Both shirt sleeves are wet?" Mason asked.
"That's right, both shirt sleeves, but the sleeves of the coat aren't wet."
"How high are the sleeves wet?"
"To the elbows. I'm not going to take the coat off or disturb the position of the body in any way. You can feel the wet cuffs and shirt sleeves."
Abruptly one of the newspaper reporters broke away from the group and sprinted for the hall.
As though his departure had been a signal which triggered action, there was a general scampering exodus.
One of the men grabbed Morley Eden. "A phone," he demanded. "Where's a phone?"
"There's one in the hall and-"
"That's being used."
"There's one in my bedroom."
"An extension or a main line?"
"A main line."
"Lead me to it."
"Hey, Mac," one of the others said, "you can't hog it. You can get first call but that's all."
"The hell I can't hog it. I'll stay on the line until I've got my story in and it's quite a story."
"Where's the next nearest phone?" one of the men asked Mason.
The lawyer shook his head. "There's a service station up where this road leaves the main highway. I don't know of any other place."
A few moments later the lawyer was left alone in the room with the sprawled figure of Loring Carson.
Mason surveyed the dead man, then moved slowly along the room.
Near the body, and at a point almost directly under the barbed – wire fence, the glint of reflected light caught Mason's eye. He bent down to
Similar Books
