talking with Edith DeVoe."
"Who's Edith DeVoe?"
"She's the nurse who lived there in the house. I had a hunch she might know something."
Mason, staring moodily up and down the street, said, "If I catch Shuster hanging around here, I'm going to punch his face. Can you imagine the damn shyster going in and taking advantage of the kid and getting her to sign a paper like that?"
Drake said, "It's his style. What can you do now? You haven't got any client who can bust the will. That will's just as good as gold, isn't it?"
"I've got a cat for a client," Mason said grimly.
"Can a cat contest a will?"
Mason's face showed the determination of a born fighter. "Damned if I know," he said. "Come on, we're going to see Edith DeVoe."
"But you can't contest a will unless you're representing an interested party. Two of the interested parties take under the will and the other one has signed away her rights," the detective protested.
"I've told you before," Mason said, "that I never hit where the other man's expecting the punch."
5.
IN THE TAXICAB, THE DETECTIVE GAVE PERRY MASON A few pertinent bits of information. "There's something off color about your caretaker, Charles Ashton," he said. "He was riding with Peter Laxter, his employer, and they were in an automobile accident. It busted Ashton up pretty badly. He tried to collect damages and couldn't. The driver of the other car wasn't insured and didn't have a dime. Ashton made quite a squawk, trying to get something, said he hadn't saved a dime."
"That's nothing unusual," Mason remarked. "It's a regular sales talk. He might have had a million dollars salted away and still have said the same thing."
Drake went on in the mechanical tone of voice of one who is primarily interested in facts rather than in their interpretation. "He had a bank account at one of the banks. As nearly as we can find out, it was the only bank account he ever had. He deposited his salary there. He'd saved something like four hundred dollars. After the accident, he spent it all, and still owes some to a doctor."
"Wait a minute," Mason interposed, "didn't Peter Laxter take care of his expenses in that automobile accident?"
"No, but don't jump at conclusions on account of it. Ashton told one of his friends that Laxter would take care of him all right in the long run, but Laxter thought he'd stand a better chance recovering damages if he could show that the money for the doctors and hospital bills had been paid out of his own savings."
"Go ahead," Mason said. "You're leading up to something. What is it?"
"Shortly before the house burned, Laxter started cashing in. I can't find how much, but it was plenty. Three days before the house burned down, Ashton rented two large-size safety deposit boxes. The boxes were rented by Charles Ashton and in his name, but he told the clerk in charge that he had a half-brother who was to be given access to the boxes at any time. The clerk told him his half-brother would have to come in and register for signature. Ashton said the half-brother was sick in bed and couldn't move, but couldn't he take out a card and have the half-brother sign. He said he'd guarantee the signature, indemnify the bank against any claim, and all that sort of stuff. The bank gave him a card for his half-brother's signature. Ashton went out and came back in an hour or so with the signature on the card."
"What was the name?"
"Clammert – Watson Clammert."
"Who's Clammert?" Mason asked. "Is it a phony?"
"No," Drake said, "he's probably Ashton's half-brother. That is, he was; he's dead now. He wasn't registered in the city directory, but I took a chance, inquired at the motor vehicle department and found Clammert had a driving license. I got the address, chased him down and found that Watson Clammert had died within twenty-four hours after affixing his signature to that card."
"Anything fishy about the death?" Mason asked.
"Absolutely nothing. He died of natural causes. He died in a hospital.
Morten Storm, Paul Cruickshank, Tim Lister