The Case of the Green-Eyed Sister

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “It’s a deal involving a tape recording of a conversation,” Mason said. “I think the tape recording is probably a phony, I don’t know. But I’m going up there to listen to it. Brogan claims that he knows nothing whatever about that tape recording except that a man by the name of J. J. Fritch came to him and told him he had this tape recording, that it would completely ruin a family by the name of Bain, that it would wipe out extensive property holdings, that Fritch needed money, that he was going to force Bain to pay him that money, otherwise he’d use the tape recording in such a way that Bain would be ruined. Then Fritch, believe it or not, entrusted this tape recording to Brogan.

  “Brogan apparently was very much shocked. He went to a representative of the family, a woman who has money, told her about it and asked her what she wanted to do. He said that she could count on him to do anything she wanted except that he couldn’t destroy the tape recording because he had given Fritch his word that wouldn’t happen.

  “According to Brogan’s story he is able to deal with these underworld characters because they respect him as being a man of his word. If he says he’ll do something, he does it. They know that he’s on the side of law and order and against blackmail, but they also know that if he gives them his word, his word is as good as his bond.”

  Drake grinned through cigarette smoke. “Ain’t that a hell of a line, Perry?”

  “Damned if it isn’t,” Mason admitted.

  “So I suppose Brogan has promised that he can settle for just about half-price, and if the family deals through him they can rest assured there won’t be any repetition of the blackmail.”

  “Something like that. I haven’t heard all the line yet,” Mason said. “I’m going over and talk with Brogan personally.”

  “He won’t like the idea of you entering the case,” Drake warned.

  “I know it.”

  “He’ll pretend that he welcomes you with open arms, but if he has a chance he’ll stick a knife in your back when you aren’t looking.”

  “I’ll be looking,” Mason said. “And, in the meantime, if I get a chance to sabotage his little game I’m going to do it.”

  Drake nodded, then, after a moment, said, “You won’t have a chance.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Brogan is cautious, and Brogan knows your reputation. He respects your ability and he won’t take any chances.”

  “If I can get my hands on that tape recording,” Mason said, “I wouldn’t have the slightest compunction about destroying it.”

  “Sure not,” Drake agreed, “but you won’t get the chance. You’re underestimating Brogan.”

  “Perhaps I am,” Mason admitted.

  “I tell you the guy’s clever. They haven’t been able to pin anything on him. He still gets by. He does right well for himself. He has plenty of this world’s goods.”

  “Okay,” Mason said. “You get your men on the job. I want to know what happens after I have left Brogan.”

  “Why is he having the interview in his apartment instead of at his office?” Drake asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mason said. “It may be he doesn’t trust some of the help in his office.”

  “He doesn’t trust anyone,” Drake said, “but he has some reason—he’s pulled plenty of deals in his office.”

  Mason shrugged. “Anyway, this one’s to be at his apartment.”

  “How long will you be there?”

  “Probably about an hour.”

  “Well,” Drake said, “that will give me time to get my operatives spotted. Don’t worry, Perry, I’ll have the place covered.”

  “Okay,” Mason said, “I’m leaving it up to you.”

  One of the telephones rang. Drake picked up the receiver, said, “Hello,” then said into the instrument, “Just a minute. I have a rush job for you. You know George Brogan. I want him tailed.”

  He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece, said, “All right, Perry, I’m getting my men started.”

  Mason arose from the uncushioned chair, “Okay, Paul, I’m leaving it up to you.”

  Drake was talking in a low voice into the telephone as Mason left the office.

  Chapter 3

  Promptly on time Perry Mason and his client emerged from the elevator at the floor on which Brogan had his apartment.

  Mason’s ring was answered almost immediately by a man whose figure had all the aesthetic grace of a spider. He was somewhere in his forties, with a short body, long arms and legs, a thick neck and a bald head on which had been placed a toupee, the hair of which was several shades darker than that on the sides of the head.

  “Hello, Mr. Mason,” Brogan said, grinning broadly, surveying Mason from large, protruding eyes that seemed to have been slightly bleached.

  He grabbed Mason’s hand, pumped it up and down in the warmth of an overly enthusiastic greeting.

  “I’m certainly glad to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve followed your cases with great interest, Mr. Mason, in fact with the greatest admiration. I certainly am enjoying this meeting and hope I can be of some small service to you and to Mr. Bain. And how are you this morning, Mrs. Atwood? It’s a real pleasure. Won’t you step right in?”

  Brogan ushered them into the living room of a sumptuously furnished apartment, closed the door, turned a knurled knob which slid a bolt into place, and then in addition snapped a chain into a socket, a chain that prevented the door from being opened more than an inch or two.

  “Have to take precautions,” he burbled. “You know how these things go, Mr. Mason. It’s rather a tricky matter. I wouldn’t want to have a lot of detectives break in on us. Now you understand my position in the matter, Mr. Mason.”

  “I’m not certain I do,” Mason said. “In fact I’m quite certain I don’t.”

  “Well, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I wanted to have this little session in my apartment rather than in my office because a person never knows just what can happen in an office. One is always subject to interruptions and there’s not really the privacy there that one has in his own apartment.” He suddenly noted the lawyer’s hearing aid and automatically raised his voice.

  “Now I’m going to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Mason. I’m keeping this roll of tape in a safe-deposit box. I have to take elaborate precautions in order to safeguard it. For instance, whenever I have it with me I’m always armed.”

  Brogan threw back his coat, displayed a shoulder holster in which a gun reposed under his armpit.

  “You know how those things are, Mr. Mason.”

  Brogan chuckled.

  “I see how they are now,” Mason said.

  “Ha ha ha,” Brogan laughed. “You do have your little joke, don’t you?—Well, Mr. Mason, I’m acting here somewhat in the nature of an intermediary. I happen to have the confidence of Mr. J. J. Fritch, that is, I have placed him in such a position that he has had to give me his confidence.”

  Brogan nodded and grinned.

  “That puts you in rather an unusual position, doesn’t it?” Mason asked.

  “Oh, I’m always in an unusual position,” Brogan said. “I don’t mind that. People are always trying to misunderstand me, but I’m very much the same way you are, Mason. I protect my clients. That’s my creed. Once I’ve done that I don’t care a snap of my fingers about the rules of the game, the conventional rules that is. I’m here to protect my client.”

  Mason nodded.

  “And that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Just who is your client?” Mason asked.

  “Why,” Brogan said, “you are.”

  “I wasn’t aware of it.”

  “Well, you’re acting for Mrs. Atwood, and I consider that I’m acting for Mrs. Atwood, that is, I want the privilege of acting for her, and I may say to both of you that I would consider it a privilege.”

  “And just what is it you expect to do?” Mason asked.

  “I want to do whatever you folks think should be done. There is only one thing that I must
insist on, Mr. Mason. In my profession I deal with all sorts and classes of people. Sometimes I deal with ethical people, sometimes I deal with crooks, but I always keep faith. My word is my bond. Now I have assured J.J. that nothing is going to happen to that recording, that it won’t leave my possession except on terms that are satisfactory to him.

  “Of course, you understand it took quite a bit of manipulating in order to get Fritch to let me have the custody of the only thing he has in the world by way of evidence. Naturally he didn’t want to let the recording out of his possession, but I persuaded him that he certainly couldn’t get anyone to put up money for him unless he was willing to play fair in return.”

  “That’s the original and there aren’t any copies?” Mason asked.

  Brogan’s eyes grew solemn. “I feel that I can assure you of that.”

  “What is the ground of your assurance?”

  “Well, now, Mr. Mason, you may have to say that it’s predicated on a long experience in such matters and on dealing with various types of people. But I feel completely certain that this is all the evidence that exists in the world.”

  “And what is the position of J. J. Fritch? By the way, is he your client?”

  “Mr. Mason, I want to assure you that I am not going to take one cent of compensation from Fritch. Neither am I going to represent him. I am interested in this matter only to the extent that I can protect the interests of innocent people. As far as Mr. Fritch is concerned I do not approve of his methods. I wouldn’t represent him. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. I think the man is resorting to tactics that are closely akin to blackmail, Mr. Mason.

  “I am willing to act as intermediary. I am willing to represent Mrs. Atwood in securing possession of certain evidence which she feels, or which she should feel, might be very embarrassing to her family. I certainly am not going to identify myself in any way with that man Fritch. I don’t like him. I don’t like his tactics. I would certainly never permit my professional reputation to be smirched by engaging in any such nefarious activity.”

  Mason said, “Suppose we buy this tape recording. Would that be the equivalent of suppressing evidence in a criminal case?”

  The smile faded from Brogan’s face. His pale eyes studied the lawyer carefully. Then he said, “Goodness, Mr. Mason, that idea has never occurred to me.”

  “Perhaps it should,” Mason said.

  “Well, of course,” Brogan said, “I’m not a lawyer. I’m only an investigator. In this case I’m only being asked to act as an intermediary. I will only continue to act as an intermediary if I am employed by Mrs. Atwood or by someone in the Bain family. If they employ me to carry on negotiations with Mr. Fritch, I will do my best.

  “Now that an attorney has entered the case, Mr. Mason, perhaps you’d better be the one to decide on the legality of the transaction.

  “Of course, you know and I know that it sounds very bad to talk about suppressing evidence, but on the other hand you know and I know that it is no crime to destroy a forgery.

  “Now I am firmly convinced in my own mind, Mr. Mason, that Fritch doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I think this recording is a complete forgery, but I’m afraid, Mr. Mason, that it’s such a clever forgery it would convince a court or a jury. I hope it wouldn’t. But it might, you can’t tell.

  “Now, of course, Mr. Fritch isn’t putting it up to us on a basis of destroying evidence. He’s simply asking that Mr. Bain or Mrs. Atwood, if she doesn’t want to go to her father, loan Fritch sufficient money so that he can have the means of defending himself against a charge which he claims is completely erroneous.”

  “The charge has been outlawed under the statute of limitations, hasn’t it?”

  “I believe it has, Mr. Mason, but there again I’m not an attorney. The point is that Mr. Fritch feels he is being falsely accused, that as a good friend Mr. Bain should advance him sufficient money to see that he is capable of carrying on an investigation and a defense.”

  “Who would make that investigation?” Mason asked. “Would you?”

  “Mr. Mason, I’m sure I don’t know. You keep insisting on getting the cart before the horse. Of course, it is possible that Mr. Fritch might retain me to make an investigation for him. I don’t know. If he retained me after this matter had been completely terminated I might accept the employment. I really can’t say at this time. But I do know this. I wouldn’t even discuss the matter with him until this transaction is entirely cleared up.”

  “How much money does Fritch want?”

  “Just enough to carry on his investigation and to clear himself on a charge that he insists is false.”

  “And does he have some idea of what that would be?”

  “Well, of course, it means running down a lot of old trails, Mr. Mason, and digging into a lot of musty records. It’s not going to be an easy matter. Fritch feels that the minimum, the very minimum, would be twenty-five thousand dollars.”

  “That,” Mason said, “is a lot of money.”

  “Well, Fritch doesn’t consider it in terms of money. He considers it in terms of service, of what it would cost him to defend himself against a false accusation.”

  “That seems to be rather high,” Mason said.

  “Well, of course, it may be. You know more about those things than I do. If Mrs. Atwood retains me to present the matter to Mr. Fritch, I certainly will do everything I can to get him to accept the smallest amount possible.”

  “And what happens after the amount is paid?”

  “Well, of course, Mr. Mason, I don’t know. I frankly haven’t gone into that matter with Fritch. Fritch came to me. I told him that I wouldn’t work for him under any consideration, but that I would get in touch with Mrs. Atwood, and if she wanted to employ me I would be glad to accept the employment. However, I warned Fritch that in case I accepted employment from Mrs. Atwood my activities would be wholeheartedly devoted to her, and that if I thought this tape recording was a complete falsification I would endeavor to prove that it was.”

  “And what did Fritch say to that?”

  “He said that I could take the tape recording on my professional assurance that nothing would happen to it, and take any steps I wanted to prove that it was genuine. Now I think I’ve made my position plain.”

  “Very plain,” Mason said dryly. “Now let’s hear the tape recording.”

  Brogan regarded Mason for a moment with an appraisal that was silently hostile.

  “Go ahead,” Mason said, “let’s hear what you have.”

  “I think we’d better understand each other first, Mr. Mason,” Brogan said. “We’re not going to get anywhere by trying to question one another’s motives. You’re an attorney. I assume you have received a retainer from Mrs. Atwood. Now before I take one step in this matter, one single step, I am going to insist that Mrs. Atwood give me a retainer to act on her behalf, and that you, as her attorney, approve of that retainer. Do I make myself plain?”

  “In other words, you’re going to protect yourself,” Mason said.

  “You’re damn right I am,” Brogan said.

  “All right,” Mason told him. “Let’s hear the recording. I take it you’re authorized to go that far.”

  “That far and no further.”

  “All right, let’s listen to it.”

  Brogan set up a tape recorder, plugged it into a wall socket, went over to the wall, swung back a section of what seemed to be solid wall disclosing a wall safe. He spun the combination on this safe and took out a spool of tape.

  “Now, Mr. Mason, as I told you, I have my own professional reputation at stake. I have assured Mr. Fritch that nothing is going to happen to this recording while it is in my hands and that nobody is going to touch it. I’m going to ask you to stay on that side of the table. I want you and Mrs. Atwood to keep entirely away from this machine. I don’t want you to try to touch this tape or to inspect it in any way. Now is that understood?”

  “You’re making the conditions,” Mason said. />
  “I shall expect you to abide by them.”

  “Any time we don’t want to abide by them,” Mason said, “we’re quite free to walk out.”

  “You are indeed.”

  An embroidered silk throw was over the table. Brogan placed the spool of tape on this silk throw beside the transcribing machine. He saw that the controls were adjusted, then put the spool on the machine, and fed the tape through the recording head on to the empty spool.

  “Of course,” Mason said, smiling, “I wouldn’t want to question a man’s hospitality, but I for one certainly could use a drink.”

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” Brogan said. “I was so intent on what I was doing I was entirely neglectful of my duties as a host. What would you like, Mrs. Atwood?”

  “A Scotch and soda,” she said.

  “I’ll have some whisky and water,” Mason said, “and if you don’t mind I’d like to mix my own.”

  “Quite all right, quite all right,” Brogan said, and his grin disclosed a mouthful of big teeth. “I can appreciate your position, counselor. You have to be suspicious. Now you’ll pardon me if I am just as suspicious as you are. You said you wanted to mix your own and I’ll take you at your word. If you’ll just precede me into the kitchen, Mr. Mason, and if you and Mrs. Atwood will stay in the kitchenette while I’m there we won’t have any trouble. In other words, Mr. Mason, I wouldn’t want you to use the subterfuge of having me go out to get a drink to create an opportunity to tamper with this tape. Now the kitchen is right through that door and if you and Mrs. Atwood will precede me, please.”

  Mason and Mrs. Atwood moved dutifully toward the door indicated.

  “Some day,” Brogan said, “I’m going to get one of these portable bars that manufacture ice that you can keep in the living room, but in the meantime all of my ice is in the refrigerator and the refrigerator is in the kitchen. I hope you understand, Mr. Mason.”

  “I understand.”

  “No hard feelings?”

  “No hard feelings,” Mason said.