The Case of the Troubled Trustee by Erle Stanley Gardner Page B

with that type of person."
    "And then," Mason prompted, as she hesitated.
    "And then, all of a sudden, Fred's voice came from the doorway. He'd come back and hadn't knocked or pressed the button or anything. He just opened the door and stood there sneering."
    "You said you heard his voice from the doorway?"
    "Yes. He started telling Kerry a lot of things-that it was moneygrubbers like Kerry who were running the world, that really constructive thinkers stood no chance."
    "Then what?"
    "Then Kerry walked up to him, told him to shut up and get out, that he was talking to me and had some information that was for my ears alone."
    "Go on," Mason said.
    She said, "Fred's face got flushed with anger. Usually, he tries to appear to be cool, to hide his emotions beneath that attitude of calm contempt.
    "This time, he got mad and said, 'Why, you little moneygrubbing pipsqueak,' and made a swing at Kerry."
    "Did the blow land?"
    She said, "I can't tell you everything that happened. I never saw anything in my life as fast as Kerry Dutton. He was all over the place, in and out, avoiding Fred's swings and punching Fred all over.
    "Then Fred made a dash for the bedroom, and Kerry was right after him. Fred was screaming, and some woman in the adjoining apartment was shouting for the police. They were making a terrific noise; and in the bedroom some furniture got smashed."
    "How did that happen?" Mason asked.
    "They broke the nightstand, I guess, when someone fell against it; and someone jerked open a bureau drawer-not the upper one that had the gun, but one of the lower ones where I keep clothes and lingerie."
    "And then?" Mason asked.
    "Then Kerry really flattened him, because Fred was lying on the floor, and Kerry came running by me. He said, 'I'm sorry, Desere. I'll see you later.' "I had already telephoned for the police while they were struggling in the bedroom. The woman in the adjoining apartment had been screaming for the police; and just a few minutes after Kerry left, and while Fred was getting himself together and trying to get to his feet, the police came and asked a lot of questions about what had happened.
    "Fred told his story. But he lied, Mr. Mason. He lied about several things. My opinion of him went down when I heard the way he told the police what had happened."
    "Did the police believe him?"
    "At first, I think they did. Then they asked him to describe Kerry, and when he told them how tall he was and how much he weighed and how old he was and they looked at Fred Hedley standing over six feet and broad-shouldered, one of the officers said to Fred, 'Well, you wouldn't have had any trouble if you'd landed that first punch.' "And Fred walked right into the trap and said, 'You can say that again. The shifty little pipsqueak ducked that punch and slammed me in the stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of me. Then he was climbing all over me while I was half paralyzed from the solar plexus punch.' "Then the officer grinned and said, 'So you really did start the fight? It was you that took the first punch.'"
    "And then?" Mason asked.
    "Then the officers told him he'd brought it on himself and refused to give him a warrant for Kerry's arrest."
    Mason said, "Tell me a little more about what Hedley was talking about-what he wanted."
    "What he wanted was an endowment for this art center of his."
    "What is it-an art gallery, a school, or what?" Mason asked.
    "Oh, it varies from time to time. It's one of his rather nebulous ideas. And yet, in some ways, it isn't so nebulous. What he wants is to encourage artists to start a whole new school."
    "A newschool?"
    "Well, more along the lines of a branch of modern art. Something that's a cross between the so-called modernistic school and the primitive school, interpretive art."
    "He's quite definite in his ideas as to what he wants?"
    "Well, as to whathe wants, but not exactly how he intends to go about getting what he wants.
    "Mainly he thinks that art is decadent; that color photography