The Case of the Lucky Legs пм-61

by Эрл Стенли Гарднер

  "Okay, chief," she said.

  "Come right on up," Mason told Drake, and slid the receiver back into place.

  Two minutes later, Paul Drake pushed his way through the door to Perry Mason's private office.

  "What have you got?" asked the lawyer.

  "I think I've got the thing sewed up," Paul Drake said, dropping into the big leather chair and lighting a cigarette. "I've found out that fellow Patton put on the same sort of a racket in Parker City. The peculiar thing is that he didn't use an alias. That is, he pulled the same racket in Parker City and gave his name as Frank Patton. The motion picture company that signed the contract was the same as the one that figured in the Cloverdale contract."

  "Who did he hook in Parker City?" asked Perry Mason curiously.

  "The same outfit—the Chamber of Commerce and the merchants."

  "No, that isn't what I mean. Who was the girl that got gypped?"

  "That's where we're going to get our lead on Patton," the detective said. "She's a girl named Thelma Bell, and she's living here in town. We've got her address and telephone number. She's living at the St. James Apartments, a cheap apartment at 962 East Faulkner Street, and the telephone number is Harcourt 63891. She's got apartment 301, but she's out right now. We've been telephoning and trying to get in touch with her. We've got evidence that leads us to believe she's keeping in touch with Frank Patton."

  "When can you get in touch with her?" Mason asked.

  "Around eight o'clock some time. She's working somewhere, I don't know just where. She's been in chorus work, and I gather that she may be a bit hardboiled. She won the leg contest in Parker City and came on here with a picture contract, the same as Marjorie Clune had. When she found out she was stung, she went into chorus work and has done some posing as an artist's model."

  "And she's kept in touch with Frank Patton?" asked Perry Mason, frowning.

  "Yes, apparently she's the kind of a kid that takes things as they come. She figured that Patton was running a racket and couldn't be blamed for that. She put it up to him to do the best he could for her here in the city. That's the way we figure it out, according to the story we get from the girl's friends."

  "And she's going to be in around eight o'clock tonight?" Mason asked.

  "Yes, perhaps a little before that."

  "And you think she'll give us Frank Patton's address?"

  "I'm certain she will. I've got a good man waiting to catch her as soon as she comes in. He can hand her a line about wanting to keep other girls from being lured to the city by false promises and all that sort of stuff."

  "Well," Perry Mason said, pulling a Marlboro from the desk humidor, "that's swell."

  "Oh, no, it isn't," the detective said. "Not yet."

  "How do you mean?"

  "I want to know," Paul Drake said, "exactly what you're going to do when we've located Frank Patton."

  Perry Mason faced Paul Drake with an expression that was grim as granite.

  "When I find that man," he said slowly, "I'm going to break him."

  "Just how are you going to break him?"

  "I don't know," Perry Mason said. "The element of surprise is going to enter into it in some way. You understand, Paul, that this racket he's pulling may be on the up and up, and again it may not be. It's a question of intent.

  "Now, that's where all criminal prosecutions break down. District attorneys get frightened to death to take a case where they've got to prove the element of fraud or an intent to defraud. It's an element of the crime. Therefore it has to be established beyond a reasonable doubt. It's hard enough to establish what's in a man's mind by evidence of others, let alone to establish an intent beyond a reasonable doubt.

  "Therefore what I want out of this man is a confession. I want to force him to betray himself; to admit that the whole thing is a racket; that his intent from start to finish is to defraud the merchants with whom he is doing business and the girl who is given the phony picture contract. In order to do that, we've got to crash in and surprise him. We've got to get him off his guard and rush him off his feet before he gets a chance to figure just how much of our talk is bluff and how much of it we can prove."

  "And I take it we don't want Bradbury there?"

  Perry Mason stared steadily at Paul Drake.

  "Get this, Paul," he said. "We don't even want J.R. Bradbury to know anything about what we're doing."

  The telephone on his desk rang.

  Perry Mason picked up the receiver.

  Della Street 's voice said cautiously, "J.R. Bradbury is calling. He says that he's found out you've left the court house for your office and that he's coming over unless he can talk to you on the telephone."

  "Tell him," said Perry Mason, "that I am just coming in the door; that I will be occupied for five minutes; that if he will call at the end of five minutes, I will talk with him over the telephone; that he is not to come to the office until I send for him. Have you got that?"

  "Yes, chief," she said.

  Mason slammed the receiver back into place, looked up at Paul Drake.

  "That guy," he said, "could become a firstclass nuisance."

  "Bradbury?" asked the detective.

  "Bradbury," said Perry Mason.

  "He seems affable enough," the detective said.

  Mason nodded wordlessly.

  "Suppose Bradbury should call me?" Paul Drake asked.

  "Tell him that you have reported in detail to me and that I have told you not to discuss what you have discovered."

  "You mean refuse to tell him anything?"

  "Certainly that's what I mean. What did you suppose I meant?"

  "He may get sore."

  "Leave that to me," Mason said. "Now, here's what I want: I want you to be in readiness to make a dash out to Patton's place with me just as soon as we get him located. I want you to be prepared to back my play, but I want to take the lead."

  "I'm not worrying so much about that," Drake said, "as I am about the position it puts me in with my client. I've really collected information that I'm refusing to give him."

  "You've given it to me," the lawyer told him, "and I'm taking the responsibility."

  The telephone rang.

  Perry Mason frowned at it, picked up the receiver and said, "What is it this time?"

  "I want to come in. May I?" asked Della Street.

  "Sure," he told her, and dropped the receiver back into place. He sat motionless, his eyes on the door to the outer office.

  The door opened and Della Street slipped into the room.

  "Dr. Doray is out there," she said quietly. "He insists that he must see you. I wanted you to know before Bradbury called back."

  Perry Mason slitted his eyes in thought, then turned quickly to Paul Drake.

  "Anything else, Paul?" he asked.

  "That just about covers it," the detective said. "I'll know around eight o'clock tonight. Will you be here in your office?"

  Mason nodded.

  "You can go out," he said, "by that door which opens into the corridor."

  Paul Drake slid his legs from the arm of the leather chair, got to his feet and moved toward the door.

  "Bradbury," he said, "is almost certain to call me."

  "Tell him what I told you," Mason said, and, turning to Della Street, he jerked his head toward the outer office.

  "Tell Dr. Doray to come in," he said.

  Paul Drake slipped out through the door into the corridor. Della Street held open the door to the outer office.

  "You may come in, Doctor," she said.

  Dr. Doray was tall, with dark hair, black eyes, high cheekbones, a mouth which was shapeless and a jaw which was thrust aggressively forward. He seemed oddly uncertain of himself as he stood in the doorway.

  "Come in," said Perry Mason.

  Dr. Doray entered the room, and Perry Mason indicated the big leather chair.

  As Della Street closed the door of the outer office behind her, Perry Mason let his eyes sweep over Dr. Doray in
frank appraisal.

  "What was it?" he asked.

  "You're the attorney who's been engaged to locate Marjorie Clune," said Dr. Doray without preliminaries.

  "Who told you?" asked Perry Mason.

  "That is something that I can't tell you," Dr. Doray said, fidgeting uneasily.

  Perry Mason stared at him.

  "Well?" he asked.

  "I wanted," said Dr. Doray, "to have you give me some information. I thought that perhaps I could arrange to have you represent Margy—Miss Clune—in the matter. I don't know just what Bradbury has hired you to do."

  "Unfortunately," said Perry Mason, "I can't accept any employment from you. I am, however, interested to learn how you knew that I had been employed, and what made you think it was Mr. Bradbury who had employed me."

  Dr. Doray smiled with his mouth. His eyes remained black, glittering and unsmiling.

  "You're not going to answer the question?" asked Perry Mason.

  Dr. Doray shook his head.

  "Under those circumstances," said Perry Mason slowly, "I would say that you had purchased a box of candy for Miss Maude Elton, the secretary in the district attorney's office."

  Dr. Doray flushed and hastily averted his eyes.

  Perry Mason nodded. "I think, Doctor," he said, "we understand each other perfectly."

  "I'm not certain that we do," said Dr. Doray. "What I am particularly anxious to find out is —"

  "Nothing that I can tell you," Perry Mason said.

  The telephone rang twice. Perry Mason picked up the receiver.

  "Excuse me a moment," he said to Dr. Doray, and then said into the transmitter, "Hello."

  Bradbury's voice came over the wire.

  "Have you learned anything?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Perry Mason in a guarded voice, "I think that I am going to have some important information for you around eight o'clock tonight. I want you to be at my office by eight fifteen at the latest. I want you to bring with you the file of newspapers that you have."

  "Have you located Patton?" asked Bradbury eagerly.

  "I have not," Mason said.

  "You've talked with Mr. Drake?"

  "Yes."

  "Has Drake located him?"

  "No," said the lawyer. "He reports, however, that he is making progress."

  "Can't you tell me anything more than that?"

  "That's all. I want you to be at my office by eight fifteen, and I want you to have those newspapers with you."

  "Can I see you before that?" asked Bradbury.

  "No," said Perry Mason, "I'm busy. I'll see you tonight."

  "Will you be there when I arrive?"

  "I don't know. If not, you are to wait until I telephone for you to join me, or until I return to the office."

  "I want to talk with you," Bradbury said.

  "You can talk with me tonight," Mason told him. "Goodby." He pushed the receiver back into position.

  Doray's black eyes were glittering as though with a fever.

  "Was that Bradbury?" he asked hoarsely.

  Perry Mason smiled at him.

  "As I was saying, Doctor," he said, "I think we understand each other perfectly. There is nothing that I can tell you. You might, however, leave your address with my secretary."

  "I have already done that," Dr. Doray said. "I had to do it before she would announce me. I'm staying at the Midwick Hotel. The telephone number is Grove 36921."

  "Thank you," said Perry Mason, arising and indicating the exit door to the outer corridor. "You can go out through that door."

  Dr. Doray got to his feet, hesitated a moment, took a quick breath as though about to say something, then changed his mind, turned and walked to the door.

  "Good afternoon, Counselor," he said.

  "Good afternoon, Doctor."

  The door slammed shut. Perry Mason picked up the receiver of his telephone.

  "Della," he said, "I want you to be at the office by eight fifteen tonight, perhaps a little bit before that. Have plenty of freshly sharpened pencils and a clean notebook. I may want you to take a statement."

  "A confession?" she asked.

  "It may amount to that," he told her, and smiled grimly as he dropped the receiver back into position.

  Chapter 4

  Perry Mason latchkeyed the outer door of his office and switched on the lights. He looked at his wristwatch. The time was precisely seven fifty. He pushed off the latch of his office door, crossed the outer office, opened the door of his private office and pushed on the light. He sat on the edge of the desk and picked up the telephone receiver. A buzzing sound announced that Della Street had left the instrument plugged in on the outer line through the switchboard in the other office. Perry Mason dialed the telephone number which he had seen on Della Street 's memorandum in the file of the case of the girl with the lucky legs. His memory for telephone numbers was almost photographic, and his fingers moved swiftly and unhesitatingly.

  "Mapleton Hotel," said a woman's voice.

  "I want to talk with Mr. J.R. Bradbury, of Cloverdale," Perry said.

  "Just a moment."

  There was a moment during which the receiver made singing noises, then the click of a connection, and a woman's voice said, "Yes?"

  "I wanted Mr. Bradbury," said Perry Mason.

  "Ring room 693," the woman's voice said irritably, and there was the sound of a receiver slamming on the hook at the other end of the line.

  At that moment, the door of the outer office opened and closed. Perry Mason looked up. The receiver was still making singing noises. A shadow formed where the ribbon of light came through the bottom of the door of Perry Mason's private office, then the door opened.

  Perry Mason dropped the receiver back into place.

  "Hello, Bradbury," he said, "I was just calling you."

  Bradbury entered the office, smilingly suave.

  "Are you going to tell me," he asked, "what you've got?"

  "I haven't got anything," Mason said.

  "Not yet?" asked Bradbury.

  "Not yet."

  "I called Paul Drake this evening," said Bradbury. "He told me that you had instructed him to give all of the information he uncovered to you and that you would be responsible to me."

  Perry Mason made little drumming motions with the fingers of his right hand on the top of the desk.

  "Let's get this straight once and for all, Bradbury," he said. "You hired me to represent your interests. I'm hired as an attorney, not as an employee. I occupy the same position that a surgeon would occupy. If you employed a surgeon to operate on you, you wouldn't try to tell him how to perform the operation."

  "I'm not kicking," Bradbury said smilingly. "You know your business. I looked you up thoroughly before I came here. Anything that you say is okay with me."

  Perry Mason heaved a sigh.

  "That," he said, "simplifies matters."

  He took a cigarette from the humidor, turned it toward Bradbury. Bradbury shook his head and reached for his waistcoat pocket.

  "No," he said, "I'll smoke one of my cigars."

  "You're early," Perry Mason said.

  Bradbury indicated a copy of Liberty which he held under his left arm.

  "I picked up one of the new Libertys," he said. "They're just on the stand. I don't need to bother you at all; I'll sit in the outer office and read. You go right ahead with whatever work you have in mind."

  Perry Mason moved away from the desk and toward the door to the outer office.

  "I was just going to suggest that," he said. "I've got some matters that I want to work on without being disturbed. I'll let you know just as soon as I'm ready for you."

  Bradbury nodded, his keen gray eyes surveying Perry Mason.

  "Do you think," he said, "that you're going to be able to get sufficient facts on which to base a criminal prosecution?"

  "I don't think," Perry Mason told him, "until I've got something to work on. You can't build up a case without facts. I haven't got all of the fac
ts yet."

  Bradbury walked back into the outer office. The door clicked shut behind him. Perry Mason read a copy of the Advance Decisions of the Supreme Court for ten minutes then softly tiptoed to the door which led to the outer office, opened it and looked out.

  J.R. Bradbury was seated in one of the chairs to the right of Della Street 's desk, immersed in the periodical he was reading. He did not even look up. Perry Mason turned the knob with his fingers as he closed the door, so that the latch slipped silently into place.

  He walked back to his desk, tossed the Advance Decisions to one side and smoked in silent contemplation.

  The telephone rang.

  Mason scooped the receiver to his ear with a hasty motion.

  "Mason talking," he said.

  Paul Drake's voice came to his ears:

  "Okay, Perry," he said. "I've heard from my man who was out at this woman's apartment, waiting for her to come back. He's got all the information."

  "Have you located Patton?" Mason asked.

  "Yes, we've located him, and we're pretty certain that he's in his apartment. We've got quite a bit of dope on the racket he runs, perhaps enough to make it look as though we could start a criminal prosecution.

  "He's living at the Holliday Apartments out on Maple Avenue, 3508 is the number. He's got apartment 302.

  "I've looked the place up. It's an apartment house that pretends to have a hotel service, but doesn't have very much. There's an automatic elevator and a desk in the lobby. Sometimes there's some one on duty at the desk, but not very often. I have an idea we won't have any trouble getting up there unannounced. We can give him a third degree, and we can probably get a confession out of him."

  "Okay," Mason said. "Where are you now?"

  "I'm telephoning from a drug store at Ninth and Olive. I'm ready to start whenever you are. I think you'd better take Della Street along. He'll probably make a statement."

  "No," Perry Mason said, "I don't want to take her right now. I don't want her to hear the way we work on him. I'll have her where she can grab a taxi and come out the minute we telephone."

  "You'll join me here, then?" asked Paul Drake.

  "Yes, you stay there. I'll be with you in ten or fifteen minutes, perhaps less."

  Perry Mason dropped the receiver into place, paused for a moment, frowning thoughtfully, then he strode across the office and opened the door which led to the outer office.