“I’m not bluffing anybody,” Mason told her. “Fremont C. Sabin crossed over into Mexico and went through a marriage ceremony with a librarian from San Molinas. Her name is Helen Monteith. It has generally been supposed that the parrot which was found in the cabin, with the body, was Casanova, the parrot to which Mr. Sabin was very much attached. As a matter of fact, for reasons which I haven’t been able to uncover as yet, Mr. Sabin purchased another parrot in San Molinas and left Casanova with Helen Monteith. Casanova remained with Helen Monteith from Friday, the second, until today.”
Mrs. Sabin got to her feet. “Well,” she said, “I don’t see that this concerns me, and I don’t think we have anything further to gain here. You, Richard Waid, are going to be sorry that you betrayed my interests and violated my instructions. I suppose now I’ve got to go to a lot of trouble making affidavits as to when that divorce decree was actually granted... So my husband has a bigamous wife, has he? Well, well, well! Come, Steve, we’ll go and leave these gentlemen to themselves. As soon as I’ve gone, they’ll try to find evidence which will show that Fremont wasn’t killed until the evening of Tuesday the sixth. In order to do that, it’s quite possible they’ll try to tamper with the evidence. I think, Steve, that it will be wise for us to retain a lawyer. We have our own interests to protect.”
She swept from the room. Steve Watkins, following her, turned to make some fumbling attempt to comply with conventions. “Pleased to have met you, Mr. Mason,” he said, and to Charles Sabin, “You understand how things are with me, Uncle Charles.”
When they had left the room, Charles Sabin said, “I think that woman has the most irritating personality of any woman I have ever encountered. How about it, Mr. Mason? Do I have to sit quietly by and let her accuse me of murdering my father?”
“What would you like to do?” Mason asked.
“I’d like to tell her just what I think of her. I’d like to let her know that she isn’t fooling me for a minute, that she’s simply a shrewd, gold-digging, fortune-hunting...”
“That wouldn’t do you any good,” Mason interrupted. “You’d tell her what you thought of her. She’d tell you what she thought of you. I take it, Mr. Sabin, you haven’t had a great deal of experience in giving people what is colloquially known as a piece of your mind, have you?”
“No, sir,” Sabin admitted.
Mason said, “Well, she evidently has. When it comes to an exchange of personal vituperation, she’d quite probably have you beaten before you started. If you want to fight her, there’s only one way to fight.”
“What’s that?” Sabin asked, his voice showing his interest.