The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

“Benjamin, however, had completely disappeared. Fortunately for him he had never been fingerprinted and so he was able to elude everyone.”

“And you didn’t know where he was?” Mason asked.

“I thought he was dead. Benjamin had been very cunning. He had a small yacht. He put out to sea in that yacht when a bad storm was coming up. Two days later the capsized yacht was found floating. There was no trace of Benjamin. Naturally it was assumed that he was dead.”

Mason frowned. “So he ran away and left you to face the murder charge?”

“Not exactly. The police misconstrued the evidence. My brother ran away.”

Mason said, “I have reason to believe your brother may have had a gorilla which wasn’t kept in the cages.”

“What?”

“That’s right — a gorilla only two or three people ever knew about.”

“But — good heavens, Mr. Mason, where on earth could such a gorilla have been kept?”

“That’s what I’d like to have you help me find out.”

Herman Barnwell’s eyes were pinpoints of concentration. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, Mr. Mason. The very idea seems preposterous.”

“I’m not certain that I follow myself,” Mason said, “but I wanted to look around a bit if I could. Naturally I’d want you to be with me. I doubt if the police ever did search the entire premises.”

“By all means,” Herman Barnwell said. “Just sit down, please, while I get the drinks — you know, Mr. Mason, I too have had an uneasy feeling that the police may have let their attention be diverted by the obvious. I have had the feeling that — however, I don’t want to say things I am not prepared to prove, and I don’t want to alarm your secretary. You want Scotch and soda? And you, Miss Street, I believe the same.”

“The same,” she said, “and if you don’t mind, I’ll look around here in the entrance hall. I’m very much interested in the Grecian urn where the articles were recovered.”

“Make yourself at home,” Herman Barnwell invited cordially. “Just help yourself.”

He left the room, and a few moments later Mortimer Hershey entered. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mason. I just returned from court. I hardly expected to find you here.”

He came forward and shook hands, then turned to Della. “How do you do, Miss Street?”

Mason motioned with his hand. “Della wanted to take a look in the stone urn in the reception room.”

“Well, that’s perfectly natural,” Hershey said, laughing. “I can well understand that. You certainly did a remarkable job of deductive reasoning, Mr. Mason. And, incidentally, started a rather interesting chain of events.”

Mason said, “I’m hoping I can do something along those same lines this afternoon. I was telling Mr. Barnwell I wanted to ascertain if a gorilla is here which wasn’t kept confined in the cages.”

Hershey laughed. “I think that’s entirely out of the question, Mr. Mason. All of the animals here, with the sole exception of that one monkey...”

Della Street’s high-pitched scream of fear knifed through the room.

“Chief! Behind you!”

Mason whirled.

Della Street came running into the room.

“What was it?” Mason asked.

“Behind you,” she said, “I just had a glimpse of him through the door — a terrible, grinning gorilla...”

The roar of a shot sounded through the house. It was followed by a second and a third shot, and then silence.

Somewhere a chair overturned.

Della Street ran toward Mason.

“Get back!” Mason shouted. “Get back! Do as I told you! Follow instructions.”

For a moment Della Street looked at him in dazed incomprehension.

Suddenly a huge gorilla appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a gorilla with staring eyes, a fixed sardonic grin on his features.

“Good Lord!” Hershey exclaimed, then turned to run, paused to look back.

The grinning gorilla came shambling toward Mason. The knuckles of one huge, hairy hand rested on the floor. The other one held a glittering carving knife.

“Help! Help!” Hershey shouted, and started for the door, stumbling over a chair as he did so, falling flat. He grabbed Mason’s coattails in order to pull himself up, shouting, “Run! Help! Get me out of this!”

The huge body of the gorilla came directly for Perry Mason.

Hershey produced a revolver. Trying to scramble to his feet, he fired three shots from a kneeling position.

The gorilla, its eyes fastened on Perry Mason, moved deliberately forward.

Babbling incoherently in fear, Hershey got to his feet. As he did so, he stumbled against Mason, throwing the lawyer off balance.

The gorilla lashed out savagely with the knife.

Mason side-stepped, suddenly grabbed the hairy arm which held the knife, and twisted it sharply.

For a moment it seemed that sheer surprise froze the muscles of the gorilla in awkward immobility.

Mason made the most of that moment. His right fist crashed into the hairy midriff. His right knee came up in a savage knee lift.

The revolver roared again and a bullet whipped past Mason’s head, crashed into the wall.

The big gorilla collapsed slowly, doubling forward, then toppling to the floor with a crashing impact which made the room tremble.

Mason turned toward Hershey.