“Simply this: If Trent didn’t leave those stones at The Golden Platter in return for six thousand dollars, why did Cullens tell Lone Bedford that he did? If Trent didn’t leave the stones there, and Cullens thought he did, and went up and started to get rough with those gamblers, they might have been responsible for what happened to Cullens. Apparently, a copper penny had been inserted ‘in the socket of one of the lights out at Cullens’ house so that when anyone came in and turned on the light switch, it’d blow the fuse. That doesn’t sound like an amateur to me. Moreover, if those were the Bedford diamonds in Mrs. Breel’s bag, and if it was Mrs. Breel’s bag, there’s no definite proof that the diamonds actually came from that chamois-skin belt which Cullens was wearing. Now then, you add to that the fact that Lone Bedford swears they weren’t her diamonds, and we get into some complicating factors.”
“I’ll say we do,” Drake said. “It’s all tangled up like a cat in flypaper, and the more you move it around, the worse it gets.”
“Therefore,” Mason said, “it’s important to go back to first principles. I want to find out whether those stones actually were pawned with The Golden Platter.”
“I don’t see how the witness we’re going to interview now can help you on that,” Drake said.
“He can help us to this extent,” Mason told him. “Suppose Cullens was playing some kind of a game and simple stringing Lone Bedford along? Suppose he didn’t have any actual tip that the stones had been hocked at The Golden Platter...? Or, suppose he didn’t go to The Golden Platter, but was standing in cahoots in some way with Bill Golding?”
“I get you,” Drake said. “You want to check on everything. Is that right?”
“On everything,” Mason told him.
“Well, here we are,” Drake observed, driving the car into a parking station. “The bank’s across the street.”
They crossed the street, to enter the sumptuous marble interior of the bank, where a uniformed policeman paraded back and forth in slow dignity. Officers sat behind desks, dictating, making notations, holding conferences. Cashiers were busily engaged in accepting deposits and paying out checks. “Who’s our man?” Mason said.
“The white-haired bird over here on the left,” Drake told him.