The Case of the Terrified Typist

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  Drake made the motion of hitting himself on the head.

  “What are you trying to do?” Mason asked.

  “Knock some brains into my thick skull,” Drake said. “Good Lord, Perry! The manager of the building was telling me all about this, and that point never occurred to me. Let me use the phone.”

  Drake moved over to the phone, called the office of the manager and said, “Paul Drake talking. I was thinking about this trouble down at the gem importing company. According to police, Irving and Jefferson, the two partners who run the place, came in while they were searching.”

  The receiver made squawking noises.

  “Well,” Drake said, “you were standing down at the foot of the elevators with this stenographer. Why didn’t you tell them that police were in their office—” Drake was interrupted by another series of squawking noises from the receiver. After a moment the detective said, “Want me to look into it, or do you want to? … Okay. Call me back, will you? I’m up here in Perry Mason’s office at the moment…. Well, wait a minute. The switchboard is disconnected for the night, I guess. I’ll catch that call at my—”

  “Hold it, Paul,” Della Street interrupted. “I’ll connect this line with the switchboard, so you can get a call back on this number.”

  “Okay,” Drake said into the telephone. “Mason’s secretary will fix the line, so this telephone will be connected on the main trunk line. Just give me a buzz when you find out about it, will you?”

  Drake hung up the telephone, went back to the client’s chair, grinned at Mason and said, “You’ll pardon me for taking all the credit for your idea, Perry, but this is my bread and butter. I couldn’t tell him the idea never occurred to me until I got to talking with you, could I?”

  “No credit,” Mason said. “The thing is obvious.”

  “Of course it’s obvious,” Drake said. “That’s why I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it right at the start. The trouble was, we were so interested in finding out how this girl vanished into thin air that I for one completely overlooked wondering how it happened that the manager didn’t stop Jefferson and his partner and tell them what was happening.”

  “The manager was probably excited,” Mason said.

  “I’ll tell the world he was excited. Do you know him?”

  “Not the new one. I’ve talked with him on the phone, and Della Street’s talked with him. I haven’t met him.”

  “He’s an excitable chap. One of those hair-triggered guys who does everything right now. At that, he did a pretty good job of sewing up the building.”

  Mason nodded. “They certainly went to a lot of trouble trying to catch one lone female prowler.”

  The telephone rang.

  “That’s probably for you,” Della Street said, nodding to Paul Drake.

  Drake picked up the telephone, said, “Hello…. Yes, this is Paul Drake…. Oh, I see. Well, of course, that could have happened, all right. Funny you didn’t see them…. I see. Well, thanks a lot. I just thought we ought to check on that angle…. Oh, that’s all right. There’s no reason why that should have occurred to you…. Not at all. I’d been intending to ask you about it, but it slipped my mind. I thought I’d better check up on it before knocking off for the night…. Okay. Thanks. We’ll see what we can find out.”

  Drake hung up, grinned at Mason and said, “Now the guy thinks I was working overtime, cudgeling my brain on his problem.”

  “What about the two partners?” Mason asked. “What’s the answer?”

  “Why, they evidently walked right by him and got in the elevator. Of course, the manager and the stenographer were watching the people who were getting out of the elevators. At that time, right after lunch, there’s quite a bit of traffic in the elevators.

  “The manager just finished talking with Jefferson on the phone. Jefferson said he saw the manager and this girl standing there and started to ask him a question about something pertaining to the building. Then he saw from the way the man was standing that he was evidently waiting for someone, so the two partners just went on past and got in the elevator just as it was starting up.”

  Mason said, “That sounds plausible, all right. What do you know about Jefferson and Irving? Anything?”

  “Not too much. The South African Gem Importing and Exploration Company decided to open an office here. Their business is mostly wholesale diamonds. They have their main office in Johannesburg, but there’s a branch office in Paris.

  This deal was made through the Paris office. They wrote the manager of the building, received a floor plan and rental schedules, signed a lease and paid six months’ rent in advance.

  “They sent Duane Jefferson out from South Africa. He’s to be in charge. Walter Irving came from the Paris office. He’s the assistant.”

  “Are they doing business?”

  “Not yet. They’re just getting started. I understand they’re waiting for a high-class burglarproof safe to be installed. They’ve advertised for office help and have purchased some office furniture.”

  “Did those two chaps bring any stock of diamonds with them?” Mason asked.

  “Nope. Unfortunately, things aren’t done that way any more, which has cost us private detectives a lot of business. Gems are sent by insured mail now. A half a million dollars’ worth of stones are sent just as you’d send a package of soiled clothes. The shipper pays a fee for adequate insurance and deducts it as a business cost. If gems are lost, the insurance company writes out its check. It’s an infallible, foolproof system.”

  “I see,” Mason said thoughtfully. “In that case, what the devil was this girl after?”

  “That’s the sixty-four dollar question.”

  “It was an empty office—as far as gems go?”

  “That’s right. Later on, when the first shipment of gems arrives, they’ll have burglar alarms all over the place, an impregnable safe and all the trimmings. Right now it’s an empty shell.

  “Gosh, Perry, it used to be that a messenger would carry a shipment of jewels, and private detective agencies would be given jobs as bodyguards, special watchmen and all of that. Now, some postal employee who doesn’t even carry a gun comes down the corridor with a package worth half a million, says, ‘Sign here,’ and the birds sign their name, toss the package in the safe and that’s all there is to it.

  “It’s all done on a basis of percentages. The insurance business is tough competition. How’d you like it if an insurance company would insure your clients against any loss from any type of litigation? Then your clients would pay premiums, deduct them as a business cost, and—”

  “The trouble with that, Paul,” Mason said, “is that when they come to lock a guy in the gas chamber it would take an awful big insurance check to make him feel indifferent.”

  Drake grinned. “Damned if it wouldn’t,” he agreed.

  Chapter 3

  When Paul Drake had left the office Mason turned to Della Street.

  “Well, what do you think, Della?”

  Della Street said, “I’m afraid it could be—it was about the same time and … well, sometimes I think we don’t pay enough attention to Gertie because she does exaggerate. Perhaps this girl really was frightened, just as Gertie said, and … well, it could have been.”

  “Then she must have come in here,” Mason said, “because she knew her escape was cut off. There was no other place for her to go. She had to enter some office. So she came in here blind and was trying to think of some problem that would enable her to ask for a consultation with me, when Gertie let the cat out of the bag that we were expecting a typist.

  Della Street nodded.

  “Go out and look around,” Mason said, “I’m going out and do a little scouting myself.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Della Street asked.

  “Look over the typewriter she was using. Look over the typewriter desk. Then go down to the restroom and look around. See if you can find anything.”

  “Heavens, the police have been a
ll through the restroom.”

  “Look around, anyhow, Della. See if she hid anything. There’s always the chance she might have had something in her possession that was pretty hot and she decided to cache it someplace and come back for it later. I’ll go down and get some cigarettes.”

  Mason walked down the corridor and rang for an elevator, went down to the foyer and over to the cigar stand. The girl behind the counter, a tall blonde with frosty blue eyes, smiled impersonally.

  “Hello,” Mason said.

  At the personal approach the eyes became even more coldly cautious. “Good afternoon,” the girl said.

  “I am looking for a little information,” Mason said.

  “We sell cigars and cigarettes, chewing gum, candy, newspapers and magazines.”

  Mason laughed. “Well, don’t get me wrong.”

  “And don’t get me wrong.”

  “I’m a tenant in the building,” Mason said, “and have been for some time. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I bought the cigar stand from Mr. Carson. I—Oh, I place you now! You’re Perry Mason, the famous lawyer! Excuse me, Mr. Mason. I thought you were … well, you know a lot of people think that just because a girl is running a cigar counter she wraps herself up with every package of cigarettes she sells.”

  Mason smiled. “Pardon me. I should have introduced myself first.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Mason?”

  “Probably nothing,” Mason said. “I wanted a little information, but if you’re new here, I’m afraid you won’t know the tenants in the building well enough to help me.”

  “I’m afraid that’s right, Mr. Mason. I don’t have too good a memory for names and faces. I’m trying to get to know the regular customers. It’s quite a job.”

  Mason said, “There are a couple of relative newcomers here in the building. One of them is named Jefferson, the other Irving.”

  “Oh, you mean the ones that have that gem importing company?”

  “Those are the ones. Know them?”

  “I do now. We had a lot of excitement here this afternoon, although I didn’t know anything about it. It seems their office was broken into and—”

  “They were pointed out to you?”

  “Yes. One of them—Mr. Jefferson, I believe it was—stopped here for a package of cigarettes and was telling me all about it.”

  “But you didn’t know them before?”

  “You mean by sight?”

  Mason nodded.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you, Mr. Mason.”

  “Well, that’s all right,” Mason told her.

  “Why do you ask, Mr. Mason? Are you interested in the case?”

  Mason smiled. “Indirectly,” he said.

  “You’re so mysterious. I may not have recognized you when you walked up, but I have heard so much about you that I feel I know you very well indeed. What’s an indirect interest, Mr. Mason?”

  “Nothing worth talking about.”

  “Well, remember that I’m rather centrally located down here. If I can ever pick up any information for you, all you have to do is to let me know. I’ll be glad to co-operate in any way that I can. Perhaps I can’t be so efficient now, since I am relatively new here, but I’ll get people spotted and … well, just remember, if there’s anything I can do, I’ll be glad to.”

  “Thanks,” Mason told her.

  “Did you want me to talk with Mr. Jefferson some more? He was quite friendly and chatted away with me while I was waiting on him. I didn’t encourage him, but I have a feeling … well, you know how those things are, Mr. Mason.”

  Mason grinned. “You mean that he’s lonely and he likes your looks?”

  Her laugh showed that she was flustered. “Well, I didn’t exactly say that.”

  “But you feel he could be encouraged?”

  “Do you want me to try?”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Mason.”

  The lawyer handed her a folded twenty dollar bill. “Try and find out just where the manager of the building was when Jefferson and Irving came back from lunch.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mason. I feel guilty taking this money, because now that you mention the manager of the building I know the answer.”

  “What is it?”

  “They came in while the manager and a young woman were standing watching the elevators. One of the men started to approach the manager as though he wanted to ask him a question, but he saw the manager was preoccupied watching the elevators, so he veered off.

  “I didn’t think anything about it at the time, but it comes back to me now that those were the two men who were pointed out to me later. I hope that’s the information you wanted, Mr. Mason.”

  “It is, thanks.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mason. If there’s ever anything I can do for you I’d be glad to, and it isn’t going to cost you a twenty every time either.”

  “Thanks,” Mason said, “but I never want something for nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said, giving him her most dazzling smile.

  Mason rode back up in the elevator.

  Della Street, in a state of subdued excitement, was waiting to pounce on him as soon as he opened the door of his private office.

  “Good heavens!” she said. “We’re mixed in it up to our eyebrows.”

  “Go on,” Mason said. “What are we mixed in?”

  Della Street produced a small, square tin box.

  “What,” Mason asked, “do you have there?”

  “A great big hunk of semi-dried chewing gum.”

  “And where did you get it?”

  “It was plastered on the underside of the desk where Mae Willis had been working.”

  “Let’s take a look, Della.”

  Della Street slid open the lid of the box and showed Mason the chewing gum. “This is just the way it was plastered to the underside of the desk,” she said.

  “And what did you do?”

  “Took an old safety razor blade and cut it off. You can see there is an impression of fingers where she pushed the gum up against the desk.”

  Mason looked at Della Street somewhat quizzically. “Well,” he said, “you are becoming the demon detective, Della. So now we have a couple of fingerprints?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well,” Mason told her, “we’re hardly going to the police with them, Della.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “So in that case, since we aren’t particularly anxious to co-operate with the police, it would have been just as well if you had destroyed the fingerprints in removing the gum, Della.”

  “Wait,” she told him. “You haven’t seen anything yet. You observe that that’s a terrific wad of gum, Chief. A girl could hardly have had all that in her mouth at one time.”

  “You think it was put there in installments?” Mason asked.

  “I think it was put there for a purpose,” Della Street said. “I thought so as soon as I saw it.”

  “What purpose?” Mason asked.

  Della Street turned the box over on Mason’s desk so that the wad of gum fell out on the blotter. “This,” she said, “is the side that was against the desk.”

  Mason looked at the coruscations which gleamed through a few places in the chewing gum. “Good Lord, Della!” he said. “How many are there?”

  “I don’t know,” Della said. “I didn’t want to touch it. This is just the way it came from the desk. You can see parts of two really large-sized diamonds there.”

  Mason studied the wad of chewing gum.

  “Now then,” he said thoughtfully, “this becomes evidence, Della. We’re going to have to be careful that nothing happens to it.”

  She nodded.

  “I take it the gum is hard enough so it will keep all right?” Mason asked.

  “It’s a little soft on the inside, but now that the air’s getting to the top, the gum is hardening rapidly.”

&nbs
p; Mason took the small tin box, replaced the gum and studied it, tilting the box backwards and forwards so as to get a good view of both the top and bottom sides of the chewing gum. “Two of those fingerprints are remarkably good latents, Della,” he said. “The third one isn’t so good. It looks more like the side of the finger. But those two impressions are perfect.”

  Della Street nodded.

  “Probably the thumb and the forefinger. Which side of the desk was it on, Della?”

  “Over on the right-hand side of the desk.”

  “Then those are probably the impressions of the right thumb and forefinger.”

  “So what do we do?” Della Street asked. “Do we now call in the police?”

  Mason hesitated a moment, said, “I want to know a little more about what’s cooking, Della. You didn’t find anything in the restroom?”

  Della Street said, “I became a scavenger. I dug down into the container that they use for soiled paper towels—you know, they have a big metal box with a wedge-shaped cover on top that swings back and forth and you can shove towels in from each side.”

  Mason nodded. “Find anything, Della?”

  “Someone had used the receptacle to dispose of a lot of love letters, and the disposal must either have been very, very, hasty, or else the girl certainly took no precautions to keep anyone who might be interested from getting quite an eyeful. The letters hadn’t even been torn through.”

  “Let’s take a look at them,” Mason said.

  Della Street said, “They were all in one bunch, and I salvaged the whole outfit. Gosh, I’m glad the rush hour is over. I would have felt pretty self-conscious if someone had come in and caught me digging down in that used towel container!”

  Mason’s nod showed that he was preoccupied as he examined the letters.

  “What do you make of them?” Della Street asked.

  “Well,” Mason said thoughtfully, “either, as you suggested, the person who left them there was in very much of a hurry, or this was a plant and the person wanted to be certain that the letters would be noticed and could be read without any difficulty. In other words, it’s almost too good. A girl trying to dispose of letters would hardly have been so careless about dropping them into the used-towel receptacle in one piece—unless it was a plant of some kind.”