Free The Case of the Curious Bride by Erle Stanley Gardner Page A

God's sake," Mason exploded, "quit that damned posing and come down to earth. You've sympathized with yourself so much that you've gone goofy and built up a mock heroic attitude…"
    Montaine interrupted, his face flushed. "That will do," he said with the forceful dignity of one who is saturated with self-righteousness. "My mind is made up, Counselor. I am going to notify the police. I feel it is for the best interests of all concerned that I do so. Millsap can dominate my wife. He can't dominate the police."
    "You'd better go easy on that Millsap business," Mason warned. "You haven't a thing against him."
    "He was out – at the very time the murder was being committed."
    "He may have been out on a call. If you insist on telling the police about your wife, that's one thing. But you start spilling stuff about Millsap and you'll find yourself in a jam."
    "Very well," Montaine agreed, "I will think over what you say. In the meantime you will represent my wife. You may send me a bill for your services. And please don't forget about my father. I want you to protect him in every way you can."
    "I can't divide my allegiance," Mason said grimly. "I'll represent your wife first. If Millsap gets in the way, he'll be smashed. I don't see where your father needs any protection. But if I'm going to represent your wife I'm not going to have my hands tied. What's more, I'm going to make your father come across with some coin. This business about 'sending a bill' doesn't sound good to me."
    Montaine said slowly, "Of course, I can see how you feel… My wife must come first… that's the way I want it."
    "Before your father?" asked Mason.
    Montaine lowered his eyes, said very faintly, "If it comes to that, yes."
    "Well, it won't come to that. Your father isn't mixed up in it. But he does control the purse strings. I'm going to make him pay me for what I do."
    "He won't. He hates Rhoda. I'll get the money somewhere, somehow. He won't pay a cent."
    "When are you going to notify the police?" Mason asked, changing the subject abruptly.
    "Now."
    "Over the telephone?"
    "No. I'm going to see them personally."
    Montaine turned toward the door, then, suddenly remembering something, spun about and approached Mason's desk with outstretched palm. "My key, Counselor," he said. "I almost forgot that."
    Perry Mason heaved a sigh, picked up the key from the desk and reluctantly dropped it into Montaine's palm. "I wish," he said, "you'd hold off doing anything until…" But Montaine marched to the corridor door, his manner oozing self-righteous determination.

7.
    Perry Mason frowningly consulted his wristwatch jobbed on impatient thumb against the bell button. After the third ring he turned away from the door and looked at the houses on either side. He saw the surreptitious motion of lace curtains in the adjoining house. Mason gave the bell one more try, then, when he heard no response, crossed directly to the house where he had detected the flicker of interest back of the curtain.
    His ring was followed almost immediately by the sound of clumping steps. The door opened and a fleshy woman stared at him with glittering, curious eyes. "You ain't a peddler?" she asked. Mason shook his head. "And if you were one of those college boys getting magazine subscriptions, you wouldn't wear a hat."
    The lawyer let his smile become a grin.
    "Well," she said in a voice that trickled effortlessly from the end of a glib tongue, "what is it?"
    "I'm looking," said Perry Mason, "for Mrs. Montaine."
    "She lives next door." Mason nodded, waiting. "Did you try over there?"
    "You know I did. You were staring out at me from behind the curtain."
    "Well, what if I was? I've got a right to look out of my own window, haven't I? Look here, my man, this is my house bought and paid for…"
    Perry Mason laughed. "No offense," he said. "I'm trying to save time, that's all. You're a woman with an observing disposition. You saw me over at Montaine's. I'm wondering if, perhaps, you didn't see