"Now then," he said, "I've put my cards on the table and you chaps are going to put yours on the table. Peter Laxter died. He didn't leave Winifred a cent. So far as I'm concerned, I'm glad he didn't. She doesn't need his money. She's better off now than she was when she was living with him.
"I'm going to support her. I don't want any of her grandfather's money and she doesn't need any of her grandfather's money, but I don't like the idea of you birds trying to slip something over on her."
Mason's hand dropped to the young man's shoulder. "We're not trying to slip anything over on her," he said.
"What are you hanging around here for, then?"
"I want to get information," Mason said, "so I can represent a client."
"Who's the client?"
Mason grinned. "Believe it or not, but the client's a cat."
"A what?"
Winifred interrupted. "It's Charlie Ashton, Dougyou know, the boys have to keep him on as caretaker, but Sam has threatened to poison the cat, and Mr. Mason's representing Ashton, trying to fix things up so he can keep the cat."
Keene 's jaw set grimly. "Do you mean to say that Sam Laxter threatens to poison Clinker?"
She nodded.
"Well, I'll be damned," Keene said slowly. He turned to Perry Mason. "Listen," he said, "I was going to keep out of that, but if Sam's pulling stuff like that, ask him what became of the Koltsdorf diamonds."
Winifred said sharply, "Doug!"
He swung to face her. "Don't stop me," he said. "You don't know what I know. I know stuff about Sam that's going to come out. No, don't worry, Winnie, I'm not going to bring it out; I'm going to keep out of it. It's Edith DeVoe. She"
Winifred interrupted him firmly. "Mr. Mason is only interested in the cat, Doug."
Keene laughed, a quick, nervous laugh. "I'm sorry. Guess I got pretty well worked up. I can't stand the idea of anyone poisoning an animal, and when it comes down to brass tacks, Clinker is worth a dozen Sam Laxters. Oh, well, I'll keep out of it."
Paul Drake casually seated himself on one of the stools.
"What's going to come out about Sam Laxter?" he asked.
Mason dropped his hand to the detective's shoulder. "Wait a minute, Paul. These people have shot square with us; let's shoot square with them."
He turned to Winifred. "Do you want to give us any information?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I want to keep out of it and I want Doug to keep out of it."
Mason took Drake's arm and literally pushed him along the passageway between the booths on one side and the stools on the other. "Come on, Paul," he said.
As the outer door closed behind them Winifred's eyes flashed them a smile. She waved her arm.
"What did you do that for?" Drake protested. "That fellow knows something. He's been 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."
Chapter 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."