Free The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece by Erle Stanley Gardner

murdered, Mason?" Sergeant Holcomb asked.
    Mason's eyes widened. "I didn't."
    The door opened, and Arthur Coulter, the butler, showed a dapper young man, with eye glasses from which dangled a long, black ribbon, into the room. "Here's Sam Blaine," Sergeant Holcomb said. "He'll take charge of things."
    Blaine, freshly shaven, his tan shoes glittering, his white linen gleaming, smiled inclusively, and said, "Just a minute while I get posted." He led Sergeant Holcomb off to a corner where the two conversed for several moments in low tones. When they had finished, Blaine returned, drew up a chair at the head of the table, opened his brief case, produced a notebook and said, "Did any of you hear anything suspicious during the night?"
    Duncan cleared his throat importantly. "I'd like to make a statement," he said, "I think I can tell you exactly what happened."
    "Who are you?" Blaine asked.
    "John J. Duncan, a lawyer."
    "Go ahead," Blaine invited.
    "Shortly after midnight last night I was wakened by someone walking past the French windows. It was moonlight. The shadow fell across me. I am a very light sleeper. I think the person was barefooted."
    "What did you do?"
    "I had a glimpse of this person walking past my room. There's a cement porch in front of the French windows. I jumped to my feet and ran to the windows. It was full moon. I saw someone sleepwalking."
    "How do you know this person was sleepwalking?" Blaine asked.
    "From the manner in which the person was attired, and the peculiar walk. The figure wore a nightgown. The head was thrown back. I knew instantly it was a sleepwalker."
    "Was it a man or a woman?"
    "Er – Er – well, you see, it was moonlight and…"
    "Never mind answering that question now," Blaine said hastily, "what did this person do?"
    "Walked across the patio, fumbled around with one of the coffee tables for a minute and raised the lid. Then the figure disappeared through a door in the north side of the patio – a door which enters a corridor."
    "You saw this?"
    "Very clearly."
    "How do you fix the time?"
    "By the clock which was by my bed."
    "What time was it?"
    "Quarter after twelve o'clock. I couldn't get back to sleep for a long time."
    Blaine asked Edna, "Are you Miss Edna Hammer?"
    "Yes."
    "What do you know about this?"
    "Nothing."
    "Did you see anyone enter your room last night?"
    "No."
    "Was your door locked or unlocked?"
    "Locked. I'm nervous at night. Almost a month ago I had a new spring lock put on my bedroom door. I have the only key to it."
    "Did you know someone had been murdered this morning?"
    "Certainly not."
    "Did you leave your room last night?"
    She hesitated and said, "Where I was last night doesn't have any bearing on the matter."
    Blaine asked, "Where is Peter Kent?"
    "Ask Perry Mason," Sergeant Holcomb said, "he seems to know."
    Mason said, "My client, Mr. Kent, is absent on a business matter which has nothing whatever to do with the present situation."
    "When did he leave?"
    "I can't answer that question without betraying the confidence of a client."
    "When's he coming back?"
    "I think I can promise that he'll return either late tonight or early tomorrow morning."
    "Where is he now? This is a serious business, Mason. Don't try to stall. We want to question your client."
    Mason shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.
    "Look here," Blaine threatened, "if you don't dig up your client now, we're going to find out where he is and drag him in."
    "Go ahead," Mason remarked, "drag him in."
    "Who knows where he is?" Blaine asked.
    For a moment there was silence, then Maddox said, "I happen to know that Mr. Jerry Harris, Miss Edna Hammer, and Miss Helen Warrington, Mr. Kent's secretary, all left last night upon a mysterious errand. I think they went to Santa Barbara. There's a chance Mr. Kent went with them."
    "Santa Barbara, eh? What are they doing in Santa Barbara?" Blaine asked.
    "I'm sure I couldn't tell you."
    Blaine turned to Sergeant Holcomb, said in a low voice, "I don't think