“When he hadn’t shown up at the office at eight o’clock, I put the papers in a brief case, and drove out to his wife’s house. I thought that perhaps they’d effected a reconciliation. He really was crazy about her. The door was unlocked. I went in. There were bloodstains on the floor. I followed the bloodstains to the bedroom… You know what I found.”
“What did you do?” Mason asked.
“I beat it,” Mattern said. “I was scared stiff. I figured that with his death, his books would be gone over, my embezzlement discovered, and that I’d go to jail. I was good and sore. If he’d only lived a few hours more, I’d have been in the clear… So then I figured that it might be a long while before anyone would find the body, and I might be able to stall things along so I could get that Western Prospecting deal through. I knew that the cashier’s check was all made out payable to the brokers… Well, you know the rest.”
“And that was you who talked with me over the telephone that morning?”
“Yes. When you rang up and wanted to talk with Tidings, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to say he wasn’t in the office… And then I got the idea that saved me from making any admissions. I knew you hadn’t heard Tidings’ voice. I have a little ability when it comes to controlling my voice. I’ve done a bit of work in amateur theatricals.”
Mason said, “Well, Mattern, you know where this leaves you.”
“Where does it leave me?”
Mason said, “You’re a pushover for the DA.”
“But I’m innocent. Surely you must believe me.”
Mason studied him thoughtfully. “Better start helping me look for the real murderer, Mattern. That’s your only out.”