"No, I didn't kill him," Dutton said, "but I did find a gun by the body. I picked it up and when I got to my car, I examined it by flashlight and found it was my gun."

"You had a flashlight in the car?"

"Well, it was the dash light," Dutton said.

Mason said, "You're indulging in the most expensive luxury a man can indulge in."

"What's that? Being tried for murder?"

"No, lying to your lawyer."

"I'm not lying."

Mason said, "Don't be silly. A detective was watching you when you came out of the club. You jumped in your car and drove away at high speed. You went a mile and three-tenths, passed over a culvert, slammed on your brakes so you left tire marks on the surface of the pavement, put your car in reverse; went back, got out and tossed something under the culvert. You didn't turn on the dash light; you didn't use any flashlight."

"A detective was watching me?"

"Yes."

"Then why wasn't I arrested?"

"It was a private detective and no one knew anything about the murder, as yet."

"All right," Dutton said. "You have me convicted in your own mind and-"

"I don't have you convicted in my mind," Mason said. "I simply suggested that you had better tell your lawyer the truth. How did you know it was your gun?"

"I looked at the gun on the ground."

"Then you must have had some light. What did you do, strike a match?"

"I had a small pocket flashlight in my coat. A very small, flat light which has a rechargeable battery. It gives a small field of illumination."

"Then you did have the means of looking around when you got out on the tee for the seventh hole?"

"Yes, I guess so, if I had used it."

"Why didn't you use it?"

"There wasn't any occasion to use it."

Mason said, "After you discovered the body, you did use it?"

"Yes."

"I was wondering," Mason said, "how you identified the body and how you identified the gun."

"Well, that was it. I had this flashlight with me."

"As soon as you recognized the gun as yours, you pocketed the gun and made a beeline for your car?"

"Yes."

Mason said, "I don't think you're that big a damn fool, Dutton. I think you're protecting someone."

"Protecting someone!" Dutton exclaimed.

"That's right."

"I'm trying to protect myself. I wish I could."

"Not with that story, you can't."

"Well, it's the only story I have."

Mason looked at his watch and said, "I have things to do. I'm going to tell you one thing. If you tell that story on the witness stand, you're going to be convicted."

"But why? The story is the truth."

"It may be the truth," Mason said, "but if that's so, it isn't all the truth. You're skipping over some incidents that might make your story convincing. You're trying to conceal things that you think might be against you. Hell, I don't know what you're doing, but every instinct I have as a lawyer tells me that once someone starts cross-examining you on that story, you're going to find yourself boxed in."

"No lawyer can cross-examine me and confuse me when I'm telling the truth," Dutton said.

"Exactly," Mason told him. "That's why I think you're going to be confused."

"Try it," Dutton invited. "Try cross-examining me."

"All right," Mason said, adopting a sneering, sarcastic attitude, "I'll pretend I'm the district attorney. Now, you answer questions. You're on the witness stand."

"Go right ahead," Dutton said.

"You had this flashlight in your pocket?" Mason said.

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you have it?"

"So I could- Well, I thought I might have to use it."

"For what purpose?"

"To identify the man I was to meet."

"You knew him?"

"I'd- Well, I talked with him over the telephone."

"Oh," Mason said, "you were going to use the flashlight then to identify his voice, is that right?"

"Well, I thought I'd take the flashlight along. It might come in handy."

"And it did come in very, very handy, didn't it?" Mason said sarcastically. "It enabled you to identify the body, to make sure he was very, very dead. It enabled you to search the body, to cut the labels off his clothes, to be certain you left nothing at all on the body so the corpse could readily be identified."

"I didn't say I had made sure he was dead."

"Well, then you didn't feel for a pulse?"

"No."

"In other words, the man might have been wounded and you simply took off for Ensenada on a vacation leaving a badly wounded man dying there on the golf course?"

"I could tell he was dead."

"How?"

"By- Well, he'd been shot."

"How did you know he'd been shot?"

"The gun was there."

"You found the gun with the aid of the flashlight?"

"Yes."

"And you knew it was your gun as soon as you saw it?"

"Yes."

"How? Did you check the numbers on the gun?"

"No, I… I recognized it."

"What was there about it that enabled you to recognize it?"

"The size, the shape."

"A thirty-eight-caliber Smith and Wesson short-barreled revolver?"

"Yes."

"Any distinguishing features about it?"

"Well… I just knew it was my gun, that's all."

"Certainly," Mason said, "you knew it was your gun because you had it in your pocket when you went out on the golf links. You knew it was your gun because you had loaded it and intended to murder the man who was trying to blackmail you. You knew it was your gun and you knew that you didn't dare to be caught with it in your possession. So you stopped your car in the middle of your flight and threw the gun under the culvert, hoping that it would remain there undiscovered."

Dutton cringed under Mason's sarcastic manner.

The lawyer got to his feet. "All right," he said. "That's a very weak sample of what you'll have to contend with. Hamilton Burger can be a demon when it comes to cross-examination.

"Think it over, Mr. Dutton.

"Whenever you're ready to change your story, send for me."

"What are you going to do?" Dutton asked. "Quit the case? Plead me guilty?"

"Are you guilty?" Mason asked.

"No."

"I never let a client plead guilty if he isn't guilty," Mason said. "I don't believe in it. I try to find the truth."

"You think I'm telling the truth?"

"No," Mason said, "but I still don't think you're a murderer. I think you're just a rotten liar. I hope you either improve by the time you get on the witness stand, or else have a different story to tell."

And with that, Mason signaled the officer who was waiting at the door of the conference room.

The lawyer walked out, and the barred door clanged shut.

Chapter Thirteen

Desere Ellis said, "Oh, Mr. Mason, I'm so glad to see you. Isn't this simply too terrible for anything?"

Mason said, "These things nearly always look blacker at the start; then after the facts begin to come to light the case looks better. Are you willing to talk with me?"

"Willing? Why, I'm anxious! I've been wondering how I could get in touch with you. Tell me, how is the case against Kerry? Does it look bad? All I know is that he's been arrested."

"That," Mason said, "is something I can't tell you. I'm Kerry's attorney. I want you to understand that. I'm here as Kerry Dutton's lawyer. I'm representing him and no one else.

"Now, Dutton may be representing you, in a way, but that doesn't mean that I'm representing you. My whole interest in this case is to protect Kerry Dutton against the charges that have been made against him and to get an acquittal, if possible. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"All right," Mason said, "let's talk."

"Won't you be seated?" she asked, indicating a comfortable chair.

Mason said, "Thank you," and dropped into the chair.