All language subtitles for perry_mason_s07e03_drowsy_mosquito

Oh.

Hadn't you better go help Lillian?

After all, he's thought of a relative.

In a minute.

Go see what happened, Mrs. Summers.

Yes, Mr. Branson.

What is it, Sandy? What happened? A
bending grip took a hit into an

mine shaft.

Did? You ought to know better than that
now.

Take more than a fall to kill a tough
old mountain goat like me.

Get me off of here, Sandy.

You just wait here, Ben, and we'll get
some help. Don't tell me what might be

broken. A little on my head, so how
could anything be broken?

Jason, come on, let's get him upstairs.

Come on, Miss Nell.

Just take it easy. Take good care.

Seems to me, at your age, I ought to
have enough pants not to go falling down

the mountain, Jack.

What did happen here?

How should I know?

You said yesterday that, um...

Mr. Grant's next step after
investigating the mine that Sandy Bowen

Jim would be to investigate the gold
mine you sold him.

So?

So maybe you decided it would be better
if Mr.

Grant didn't report that they were
worthless too.

So I shot him or something, is that it?

Look, what do I care what the old man
reports?

I'm a mining broker.

But if Jim, as president of the Grant
Mining Company, wants to buy worthless

mines from me, I sell them to him.
There's nothing illegal in that.

Nor are you and Jim splitting the
proceeds afterwards.

Well, the old man's never going to find
out about that.

What is all this, Lillian?

You gave your husband the idea to begin
with. It worked out just fine.

Nearly 200 ,000 so far, and more to
come. Now, don't tell me you're getting

feet. Then you didn't do anything to Mr.
Grant.

No, and neither did anybody else.

Oh, they're crazy.

Then why did it happen just when he
started moseying around?

I couldn't talk to Mr. Grant, but they
say he had an accident, that's all.

He took a tumble.

No ladder gave way and the big chance
mine.

Well, I'd better see if there's anything
I can do.

You wait for me? If you want.

Wasn't Mr. Brattison supposed to be here
this morning?

Jim Telephone said he'd be late. Said he
wanted to check on one of the new mines

he bought.

Not the big chance.

He didn't say.

I was sent here by... By... That's all
right, Mr. Bowen. Mr. Street is my

confidential secretary.

Now, you were sent here by whom?

Banning Grant.

He said you knew him.

Yes, I do. Quite well.

He's sort of laid up.

He'd like for you to come to see him in
Gold Gulch.

Mr. Bowen, Mr. Grant is a good friend of
mine.

But I can't leave for the Mojave now,
not just like that.

Tell him when he's better to come and
see me.

Well, the trouble is that he's liable to
get worse instead.

He's that ill?

No.

But it appears somebody's of a mind to
see that he is.

Sure beats me where Sandy got a local
idea like that.

Nobody's trying to kill me.

Accident, pure and simple.

No harm done, according to Doc Evans,
just shaken up a little.

When was the big chance mine abandoned,
Mr. Grant?

About 1932 or 3.

You have been in a mine recently, of
course.

No, I haven't.

What made you ask that?

With all your experience, wouldn't you
have checked the ladder carefully unless

you had reason to believe it was sound?

Well... I was wool -gathering, Mr.
Mason, that's all.

Now, let's get down to business.

What I really want you for is to
represent Sandy Bowen in a fraud suit.

Fraud suit?

Over the Big Chance mine.

Seems he salted it with some high -grade
gold ore and then flim -flammed the

Grant Mining Company into buying it.

Now, just a minute. The Grant Mining
Company is your company.

Are you trying to retain me so you can
control both sides of the litigation?

No, no, it's not my company anymore.

I'm only a minor stockholder.

My late wife's son, my stepson, I guess
he is technically, Jim Braddison,

he's head man now.

He's the one that got flim -flammed.

Flim -flammed.

Sounds as though you think Sandy hasn't
much of a defense.

Hasn't. They got him dead to rights.

What I want you to do is settle.

Does Sandy want to settle?

Yep. I'm willing to advance whatever it
takes, right up to the $5 ,000 he got.

Only don't let Brattison or his lawyer
mock it. No, I'm bankrolling things, or

they'll think there's something fishy.

Is there something fishy, Mr. Grant?

You mean, why should I go to bat for
Sandy?

Well, I wouldn't normally.

We're friends, even prospected together
once.

But he's not what you might call an
upstanding citizen.

He's been salting and selling old minds
to unsuspecting folk for years.

He even tried me a couple of times.

But I was too cute for him.

I figure I owe him something.

Why? Because he may have saved your life
yesterday?

One reason.

The other is that I was the one who told
Brattison he'd been suckered by Sandy.

Figured he'd just ask for his money
back.

But Sandy's already blown it.

Now Brattison's talking jail.

I'd like to be killed, Sandy, and I
wouldn't want that.

All right.

I'll see what I can do.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you.

Is Mr. Braddison here?

No, sir. He isn't.

Perhaps I can help, Mr. Mason.

George Moffat, company attending.

We've met before, Mr. Moffat?

Hardly. Corporation, not criminal law,
is my field.

But I've seen your picture in the
newspapers.

Is there something I can do?

Call off your suit against Sandy Bowen.

Oh?

In return for what, Mr. Mason?

I'm prepared to refund the purchase
price of the mine your company bought

it. The entire $5 ,000?

That's right.

But where's the money coming from?

It's my understanding Bowen is broke. He
spent all the money.

Does it matter where the money comes
from, Mr. Moffat?

No.

I guess it doesn't.

All right, you've got a deal, Mr. Mason.

The suit is called off in return for a
certified check, shall we say?

I'll have it for you later today.

That'll be fine.

And Mr. Mason?

I must say, your reputation has been
greatly exaggerated.

My reputation?

As being a difficult man to come to
terms with.

When the occasion requires it, Mr.
Musket, I can be difficult.

Quite difficult.

Information.

The lady with you tells me you're a
lawyer.

Yes, I am.

Are you representing Jim Brattison or
old Mr. Grant?

Why do you ask that?

If you're representing Brattison, I
think I should warn you. People here in

aren't too happy about him. Or anybody
associated with him.

What would you figure has been nibbling
on these ladder -cross pieces, Mr.

Mason? Termites?

Certainly not termites.

I'd say an individual with a very sharp
cross -cut saw.

Then somebody really did try to kill Mr.
Grant.

Well, he sure wasn't trying to improve
his health, Mr. Reed.

It's funny he told you he hadn't been
down to mine before.

Why?

Well, I'm right sure he had.

Now, my camp's over there.

A couple of nights ago, I saw a light
here.

But it was gone when it come over.

Down in the shaft, I heard a mosquito
buzzing.

Mosquito buzzing?

Yeah, that's the sound the mineral light
makes.

What in the world is a mineral light?

It's a black light, Dillon.

An electrical device that prospectors
use.

It sends out rays that makes any metal
embedded in the rock fluoresce.

Grant's got one, too.

Might be broke up a little from the
fall, but... Did you talk to Mr. Grant

this? Maybe get myself shot if it wasn't
him.

No. Ask your dad.

All right, we'd better be doing the same
thing.

Mr. Branson.

I'd like you to meet Mr.

Branson, our company president.

How do you do? How are you? My
secretary, Mr. Reed. Mr. Branson, Mr.

Reed. Hello.

See, I have some good news for you,
Mason. We're calling off the suit

Sandy Pond.

That so?

Well, we decided to let the deal stand
as it is.

What made you decide that?

What made us?

In going over our financial statement,
preparatory to the director's meeting,

decided that tax -wise, the write -off
is worth more to us than the cash.

But dang it, Mason, that's not what I
wanted.

I wanted to get a hold of...

Well, I wanted... What you wanted was to
get hold of the big chance mine

yourself, Mr. Grant.

Sandy told me that you had him sign it
over to you contingent upon the suit

being quashed.

Now, shouldn't you have told me what you
really wanted and that there really was

an attempt made on your life?

Well, that part I don't understand.

Miss Street, would you mind handing me
that duffel bag under the bed?

Oh. Big chance mine's no good of itself.

But last week, while I was prowling
around the same property to see how big

job a salt and sandy had done, I found
these.

Old Indian arrow.

And nearby, I found another.

A little further along, I stumbled on
the start of an old shaft hidden by

about the size of a coyote hole.

And in it, I found these.

It's gold, all right.

And this old single -action colt.

The owner's name notched on the handle.

Bowler.

Oh.

That name seems familiar.

It should.

Name of one of the most famous lost
mines in the country.

Old Bowler made his strike in 74.

brought in some of the richest gold ore
ever assayed hereabouts, told the folks

there was a million dollars more of it
back in the hills, staged a celebration,

then sneaked out of town and was never
seen again.

Sandy don't know it, but right spang in
the middle of the property he was

salting is the million -dollar bowl of
mine that nobody's ever been able to

until now.

other answer possible.

The old boy found something while he was
checking on the mine Bowen sold us.

Something big.

Now he's trying to get it for himself.

You sure it's Grant?

Oh, it can't be Bowen. He spent every
cent he got from us. And the lawyer

conferred with Grant just before he made
his offer.

Isn't that so now?

Yes, but it isn't like banning Grant to
do anything underhanded.

Oh, don't forget. He feels we took the
company away from him.

Well, didn't you? The point is...

We can't force him to tell us what he
found.

Ah, but we can.

He's still a minor stockholder, so we
can elect him a director.

And by law, a director must reveal
anything he knows that might affect the

corporate assets.

Uh, which means we'll have him over a
barrel.

Are we all in favor?

Aye.

Somers.

You know I always vote the way you say,
Mr. Radisson.

Aye.

No.

Oh, I suppose I'll have to go along if
it'll help the company.

Carried unanimously.

Banning grant is now directed.

Any other business?

What about the quarterly dividend?

You have our heavy responsibilities for
our new properties. Any dividends out of

the question?

Don't you realize that practically every
soul in town owns stock?

And they count on the income to try to
make ends meet. Then they'll just have

uncount this time.

Meeting's adjourned.

Mood, the townspeople are in, thinking
this is what you might do.

They just may decide to uncount you,
Braddison.

And I'll be right with them.

You know, we should have voted her off
the board to make way for Grant. We'll

that next time.

Well, Mr. Mason, I'm afraid you're too
late.

Too late?

There's no need to play it cozy any
longer, Counselor.

We know Grant has found something
valuable somewhere on Bowen's ex

And we've just arranged it, so he'll
have to tell us where.

How did you do that?

By voting him in as a company director.

Don't your bylaws require directors to
be stockholders, Mr. Moffat?

Grant is a stockholder.

I'm afraid you're wrong about that.

He's sold his voting to me, which of
course makes his election to the board

invalid.

However, if you're actually in need of
another director, I'd be happy to make

myself available.

Harry, why wasn't the dividend paid?

Well, according to Grant, Brattison and
the others have been bleeding the

company of its cash through phony mining
deals. The broker named Hayward Small,

a gentleman whom I suspect is presently
sitting with Mrs. Brattison. Well, Grant

made the mistake of giving his late wife
a majority stock interest.

She made the mistake of willing it to
her ne 'er -do -well son by a previous

marriage, namely one James Brattison.

Well, why didn't Mr. Grant contest the
will?

Well, he didn't care at the time.

He was comfortably well off and the
company was in good shape.

It was only when he realized it.

Only when he realized what?

That his gold goat's friends, whom he'd
talked and cajoled into buying stock,

knowing it would take care of them, were
being built.

Then he began to worry.

And so his friends are why he doesn't
want the bowler mine to go to the

Yes. The ironic part is he can't tell
them about it for fear Braddison will

out.

There's still one thing that isn't
clear.

Why the attempt on Mr.

Grant's life?

I can think of only one possibility.

What's that?

Someone else knows where the Boulder
mine is and wants to keep the

to himself.

Mr. Grant.

Harry.

It's Mr. Grant.

I thought for a minute there I was a
goner.

Are you positive, Mr. Grant, you got no
idea who was doing the shooting?

I already told you I hadn't.

More to the point, have you?

All I know about him is he owns a .30
-30 rifle.

At least according to these expended
shells I found on the balcony where he

from. I seem to recollect you have a .30
-30, Bowen.

Sure, but still in camp.

Say, you ain't suspicioning me, are you?

I told you I was wheeling into town when
the shots expired.

Let her go after the varmint load what
he's up to.

Miss Street?

Well, I only caught a glimpse of the
man, but I'm sure he was taller than Mr.

Bowen. All right.

Tall man with a .33 rifle.

Maybe I'll have something more in the
morning.

What are you going to do, Dan?

What do you mean, what am I going to do?

If you was me, instead of playing fit
and duck, I'd make myself scarce.

Well, how?

Why not hold up a me?

My camp's where nobody can get in two
miles without our knowing it.

And I'll let you have keeps of the 30
-30 if you want.

What do you think, Mason?

I think it's an excellent idea.

And it fits in with something I have in
mind.

Well, what's that?

Well, something which would take the
pressure off you.

Permanently.

Yeah, this is Paul Drake.

Person of person from who?

Oh. Hi, Perry. What's cooking?

When did I shave last?

Yesterday morning, like always.

Don't tell me you're calling me long
distance to find out... How would I like

do what?

Find a gold mine.

What's wrong next door? Where's the
assay agent?

There hasn't been one here in 20 years.
20 years?

Well, how do you like that?

Me with a fine of the... Well, where do
I have to go?

Bakersfield.

Only by the time you get there, the
office will be closed.

You're not a prospect, are you?

No, just a weekend rockhound, that's
all. Semi -precious stones, stuff like

that. But I know gold when I see it.
Brother, do I know it.

Where can I get a drink?

There's a saloon in the hotel.

I'm away.

Oh, uh, could you keep this stuff of
mine in that safe of yours till

I'll, uh, have to ask Mr. Bradson.

Oh, well, uh, forget it. I've been
seeing too many movies. I'll probably

in the saloon anyway. Thanks a lot.

Who was that, Thomas?

A rockhound.

And I think he's found the lost bowler
mine.

Whiskey. Old bottle of it. Best you got
in the house.

Got cash for it, prospector? Well, I got
something just as good. Here.

What would you say that?

What is it, Jason?

Gold nugget. Worth four to fifty bucks,
I'd say.

I'll then start pouring.

For me and the gentleman here. All of
them.

Yourself, too, if you like.

Now look what I've done.

Bowler?

Where'd you get that?

That? Oh, I bought that in a second
-hand store.

Saw the name on it and thought it'd
bring me luck.

Sure looks as though it had.

Could be.

Come on, drink up.

Biggest crowd since Christmas holidays.

Christmas for a lot of people if you let
slippers bind you.

Jason, how about some service here?

Here. Try some of this.

Don't mind if I do.

What are you doing here?

Stop by to see how he's making out.

Where's Mr. Grant?

Back in camp. Don't worry, he's got the
rap.

He's sure gonna hit the spot.

Mr. Grant?

Mr. Grant?

Well, I told you not to come out here,
Summers.

Well, there's something you ought to
know, Mr. Grant.

There's a rock hound in town that's
found something big. Most likely the

boulder mine.

And he's staging a celebration.

Well, that doesn't surprise you?

No, because I'm paying for it.

Why? Well, I realize Paul's pretending
to have also found the bowler mine is

just to protect Mr. Grant, but what if
that same man should try to kill Paul?

He won't, Della.

How do you know?

Because of those bullet holes.

Harry. In here, Paul.

Well, I'm clearing out now, but don't
think it hasn't been fun.

I'm sure no one followed me. Wouldn't
make much difference if I was.

My camp's a good three miles from
Grants.

Well, I'll be seeing you. Be careful,
Paul.

Always am.

Now that the coroner's jury has been
selected, there's something I'd like to

say. The county coroner and the sheriff,
too, are attending a law enforcement

meeting in Salt Lake, so I've been
delegated to take charge here, even if,

though, I'm only a sort of an honorary
deputy coroner. It's my understanding

that a hearing like this is just to
determine if the deceased James Madison

his death by accident or by intent.

And if by intent, the impairment is
possible.

Person or persons responsible.

To that end, with the approval of Mr.
Northridge, the assistant district

attorney, and with Mr. Perry Mason,
counsel for Mr.

Grant, we're going to hear a number of
witnesses.

Pretending to have found the lost bowler
mine, Mr. Drake, but why were you doing

that?

Two attempts had been made on Mr.
Grant's life.

Someone who'd already found the bowler
mine knew that Mr.

Grant had also found it and consequently
wanted to eliminate him.

So it was decided that I'd find it, too,
which would make it pointless to kill

Mr. Grant.

Now, tell me what happened when you got
back to camp that night.

I just climbed out of my Jeep when three
shots were fired. I took cover.

Then I heard someone running away
through the underbrush.

I went to my tent and found Mr.
Braddison dead.

What time was this?

Exactly 11 .34 by my wristwatch.

What did you do next?

Before I could do anything, Deputy
Connors drove up and took over.

No, sir. The .30 -30 rifle lying by the
body wasn't the one that fired the

shots. The barrel was cold.

But you did find the rifle that had
fired the shots.

Yes, in the brush about 50 feet from
camp.

It was also a .30 -30.

Sandy Bowen's rifle with his name carved
on the stock.

What else did you find that night,
Deputy?

Mr. Grant about midway between the two
camps.

We're approximately three miles apart.

What was Mr. Grant doing?

Running hard towards his camp, so I took
him into custody.

You must answer, Mr. Bowen. Did you or
did you not leave your rifle with Grant

when you went into town?

I, uh... I just remember.

I might have, and I might have not.

May I point out something to the
witness, Mr. Shoots?

Mr. Bowen, your lack of memory may well
result with your being charged with the

murder of James Braddison. How do you
want that? Well, no.

Me and Dan...

Had a trouble, but we're friends.

So I hate to say this.

I did leave the rifle.

Your memory seems to have returned most
conveniently, Sandy.

Perhaps now you can remember the
previous night when you fired three

the same rifle at Banning Grant from
across the street.

But I didn't. I told you I was just
driving into town when that happened.

just approaching the Big Chance Mine
when he had his fall there.

Did you engineer that, too?

Was that crosscut saw?

That's your name carved on the handle,
isn't it?

Well, yes.

All right, I did so on the ladder.

But it wasn't to get banned.

Who was it to get then?

Too many fellas snooping around.

I just wanted to discourage them.

Keep them from finding out I'd salted
the mine before I sold it to the grant

company.

Never occurred to me a smart old coot
there like Ben wouldn't take a letter

before we went down. After I told Mr.
Grant about the man supposed to have

the bowler mine, we talked for a few
minutes and then I drove back to town.

What time was all this?

About 10 .30 when I left Mr. Grant and
about 11 when I got back to town.

How was it, Mr. Summers, you were able
to find Mr. Grant?

Go ahead.

Well, I'd been helping Mr. Grant try to
get back his company, giving him

information on the deals made by Mr.
Branson.

So before he left town on the night he
was shot at, he told me where he'd be in

case I wanted to reach him.

And why were you, an employee of the
company, helping Mr. Grant?

On account of the townspeople, Mr.
Mason.

Good friends being victimized.

And Mr. Grant their only hope.

Now, could it be that night you thought
of a... A quicker way of helping your

friends? By killing Mr. Brattison, you
mean? Oh, no.

You knew Mr. Grant had found the lost
bowl of mine, didn't you?

Yes. And didn't he tell you that night
in camp what Mr. Drake was doing and

where he was camped? Yes.

And didn't you then drive there and,
finding Brattison already there, use

opportunity to kill him? But I drove
straight home, Mr. Mason.

Straight back to town.

And you proved that?

No, but I did.

I did.

Mr. Mason says I don't have to testify,
but I want to tell my side.

First, about the rifle.

Maybe Sandy left it, but I didn't see
it.

Second, the business of being between
the two camps.

After Summers left, I got to thinking
maybe I shouldn't have told him what

was doing or where he was camped.

Supposed to be a secret between me and
Sandy.

So I set out for the other camp to wait
for Drake to come back from town.

So I could tell him what I'd done.

Just about there when I heard shots.

Figured he's heading into trouble, so I
turned around.

And soon after that, Deputy Connors
found you.

Running because I didn't know who he was
or what he was up to.

And that's it.

Not quite it, Mr. Grant.

Since the lost boulder mine appears to
be the important element in all this, I

suggest you tell us where and on whose
property the mine is located.

No, sir.

Bad minds are the folks here in town.

And nobody else is getting it.

Mr. Shoot.

That's not my province to make him talk
if he doesn't want to.

Seems like it's getting near lunchtime.
Suppose we break off until two o 'clock.

Well, what comes to the mind, Mr. Grant,
if anything happens to you?

You tell Sandy a mosquito will tell him
where it is.

You'll know what that means.

A little mosquito.

Grant hadn't used the old asphalt road.

His footprints would prove he never
reached Drake's camp. Unfortunately, he

As apparently did Brattison and anyone
else who drove or walked there since no

tire tracks or footprints have been
found.

I'd say to a fair of the law doing
legwork for you, Mr. Mason.

I'm afraid what I have to report is of
unhelp, Mr. Grant.

All the ballistics tests are back.

And there's no doubt that Brattison was
killed with Fanny Bowen's rifle.

And the shells Deputy Conner found
across from the hotel, from the same

No, they were fired from Brattison's
rifle.

Which gives Grant a real first -class
motive.

Brattison trying to kill him.

The news I got's not so good either.

Somers is out as a suspect.

How's that?

Well, in question, as you suggested, I
found that when he drove out to see Mr.

Grant, he picked up his jalopy at the
local garage where he'd just been

with oil.

The speedometer reads 94 ,368 now.

And according to the garage records, it
read 94 ,337 when the servicing was

done. That means he only drove 31 miles.

Enough to take him to and from Bowen's
camp.

But not enough for the detour to the
other camp.

He came straight back to town like he
said.

Could he have done something to the
speedometer?

What hasn't been tampered with is...

Rust all over a quarter -inch thick.

Good or bad news, Paul? Well, two of
your hunches were right, but whether

good or bad, I wouldn't know.

I want to see when the inquest resumes.

Many thanks.

Madison first tries to meet Grant, a
company director, and then shoots him.

Doesn't make sense.

Could he have learned the whereabouts of
the Boulder mine in between?

We might help answer that, Della, if we
could find the mine ourselves.

Let's try.

We still have an hour and a half left.

Perry, that mine's been lost for 90
years. How do you expect to find it in

hour and a half?

What is this, Paul?

Mr. Grant's little mosquito.

This is the big chance mine.

The one Sandy sold us. The poor mine
can't be here.

No, but this is where Mr. Grant was
going the day he fell.

The day Sandy rescued him.

All right, Paul.

Let's get going on that ladder.

How dark.

It wouldn't affect street light.

While I move this around, keep your eyes
open. All right.

What is it?

What we're looking for, I think.

The arrow must point to the starting
point, which would be the mine shaft to

build it.

I'm pointing in a direction about 15
degrees east of due north.

If up means north, as it should.

And the cross at the top?

El Dorado.

Lost bull in mine, Della.

Still on the right variant, Paul? Yep.

Has it occurred to either of you that
the cross could be five or five hundred

miles from here, for all I told you down
in the mine?

It has to be on the Big Chance property,
Della. Mr. Grant told us that. He also

told... There.

That could be the brush hiding the
coyote shaft, as Mr. Grant described it.

Hold it there!

Mr. Mason, how'd you get here?

I can think of a better question, Sandy.

How did you get here?

Sandy, I'd like to show you three
objects.

One is your crosscut saw.

One is your rifle.

And the third is the old single -action
colt Mr. Grant found in the bowl of

chaff. Now, do you see anything similar
about them?

I don't know what you mean, Mr. Mason. I
mean the B in Bowen on this, the B in

Bowen on this, and the B in Bowler on
this.

All quite obviously carved by the same
hand.

Your hand, Sandy.

Oh, yes.

I carved them all.

So then this revolver never did belong
to Bowler.

Nope. And like the arrows and the old
buckskin poke was planted by you on the

Big Chance property.

Yep. Why, you swindling old... Hold on a
minute, Ben.

Does this mean the bowler mine hasn't
been found?

That's right.

Why did you pull a stunt like that,
Sandy?

Well, my old friend Ben Grant was always
nosing around for proof that I'd sold

the Big Chance property before sold it
to Gladys.

So I decided to sell it again, figuring
if he thought the bowler mine also was

on the property that any suit against me
would be called off.

Sure worked that way, didn't it, Dan?

Grant certainly didn't tell Brattison
where Drake's camp was, and neither did

Sandy Bowen.

So that leaves you, Mr. Summers.

Now, when did you tell Brattison? When
you got back to town?

Yes. He had found out about me helping
Mr. Grant and was waiting for me with

rifle. So it was either tell him or get
shot, Mr. Mason.

Did he say then that he was going out
there?

He just went away.

Jim didn't tell me.

I never even saw him that night.

He told you about shooting at Mr. Grant,
didn't he?

Yes.

But he wasn't trying to kill him. He
just wanted to frighten him so he would

come to terms with us on his new find.

If your husband told you about that,
Mrs. Braddison, he certainly would have

told you about Mr. Paul Drake.

But I didn't see Jim that night.

But I think you did.

When he told you he was going out to
force Drake at gunpoint to reveal what

knew about the bowler mine, you
followed.

But I didn't.

Hayward, tell him.

Tell him.

All we did was try to follow Drake.

Like everybody else in town.

And like everybody else, we lost him.

Mr. Small, the records of the Bank of
Indio show a safety deposit vault shared

by you and James Brattison.

Then I'm quite sure when it's opened by
the inheritance tax appraiser, it will

be found that it contains some $200 ,000
obtained by bilking the Grant Company

through fraudulent mining operations.

Now, did you think killing Brattison,
perhaps with the connivance of his wife,

would give you sole possession of that
money?

No, it wouldn't.

Because Moff gets in on the deal, too.

And he'd never let me get away with it.

I'm not about to testify here.

But in case you have an idea that I
killed Brattison, let me straighten you

on something.

Brattison never forced Summers to tell
him where Drake's camp was.

How do you know that?

On two counts.

First, he didn't have to.

Brattison found out Summers had been
juggling the company's books for years.

Little sums, but enough to send him to
prison. So he had him under his thumb.

And the other count?

I was the only one who didn't take out
after Drake.

As a result, I was in town when Summers
came in.

Not at 11, as he said, but at 12 .15.

12 .15, Mr. Summers?

That means you must have met Braddison
long before getting back to town.

Now, did he wait down the road in his
car while you talked to Mr. Grant?

No. And when you came and told him where
Drake was camped, did he send you on

home? No.

But instead of going back to town, you
followed him, didn't you?

No. Three miles there and three miles
back. Why, I couldn't have walked it in

hours. You had your car.

Yes, but the speedometer.

31 miles.

Just enough to drive to Mr. Grant's camp
and back. Now, you can't get around

that. Oh, but I can.

By remembering the same thing you did.

That speedometers on some cars of the
vintage of yours take off mileage in

reverse.

Driving backwards, you mean?

No, no, I couldn't. I couldn't have
backed up six miles in so short a time.

Not at night.

You could have driven six feet or six
miles, day or night, simply by propping

the rear wheels, Mr. Summers.

Letting the engine turn them and the
speedometer backwards.

What?

Recognize this?

My car jack.

Yes.

I finally figured out one thing.

What's that, Della?

How you knew Paul was in no danger.

You mean the close grouping of bullet
holes in Mr. Grant's window, fired by an

excellent marksman who obviously wanted
to frighten but not to kill.

There's one thing I can't understand,
though.

Why Mr. Grant put his map, if you can
call it that, to the Bowler Mine in the

Big Chance Mine?

Well, right after he made his discovery,
someone started to follow him.

It was Sandy, of course, but Mr. Grant
didn't know that, so he ducked into the

big chance.

And rather than putting the directions
on paper, which could have been taken

from him, he put them on the mine shaft.

And was going back to look at them when
he had his fall.

Well, I found out that he'd bought a new
mosquito to replace the one that was

broken in the fall, the one you, Della,
heard the night of the hotel shooting.

You began to suspect what it was for.

That's right.

One thing still puzzles me.

What was Summer's real motive?

He claims it was for the townspeople who
now get their dividend.

But I think that Braddison threatening
him with prison had a good deal more to

do with it.

Well, I guess that kind of wraps it up.
Get in. At least I can take you back as

far as Gold Gulch.

As far as Gold Gulch? Don't tell me
you're going to stay there.

Yeah, I might.

I'm kind of thinking of going into the
mining business.

This morning, Sandy Bowen showed me a
mine he had for sale.

Gold is lying around all over the place.