“So then what?”

  “Then,” she said, “I looked up the address of Billings and Compton Detective Agency and decided to go up there and ask for a showdown. I didn’t know just what I was getting into.”

  “And what happened?” Mason asked.

  “I never went in,” she said. “I – Well, something happened and I thought I saw the picture.”

  “What was it that happened?”

  “I drove my car up there. There’s a parking lot right next door to the building. I put my car in the parking lot and was just getting out when I saw my double.”

  “Your what?”

  “My double.”

  “Now,” Mason said, “I’m beginning to get the picture. Just what did your double look like?”

  “She looked exactly like me. She was dressed exactly the same way, and there was more than a superficial resemblance. It was really startling. She was my height, my build, my complexion, and of course since we were wearing identical clothes – well, I had to stop and do a double take. I thought I was looking at myself in the mirror.”

  “And what was your double doing?”

  “Standing in line, waiting for her car to be brought to her.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I kept on doing detective work. I stopped my car and continued to sit in it and when the man gave me a parking ticket I just kept on sitting there until I saw her car being delivered and I got the licence number of her car, WBL 873.”

  “So then you looked up the registration?” Mason asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “And the registration was Minerva Minden?”

  “Right.”

  “And then?” Mason asked.

  “Well, then I reported for work the next day and I was told to go to another locality. This time it was Sunset and La Brea and I was to cross the street fifty times.”

  “You did that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the photographer was there?”

  “Part of the time the photographer was there, part of the time he drove by in an automobile. Once I’m certain that he had a motion-picture camera in the automobile when he stopped and parked the car and took motion pictures of me.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I called the unlisted number again and was told that my work was done for the day, that I could relax, have cocktails and dinner and that there would be no more calls on my time.”

  “So what did you do?”

  She said, “I came to the conclusion that I was being groomed for something and that I was going to be what you called a Patsy.”

  “Perhaps Minerva Minden wants an alibi for something,” Mason said.

  “I’ve thought of all that,” she said. “We’re not twins but there certainly is a startling resemblance. But wait until you hear what happened the next day.”

  “Okay, what did happen?”

  “So,” she said, “the next day I was told to go to Hollywood Boulevard and Western, that I was to cross the street, walk one block along Hollywood Boulevard, wait ten minutes, walk back, cross Western, then cross Hollywood Boulevard and go up the other side of the street; wait ten minutes, then come back down and retrace my steps. I was to keep that up at ten-minute intervals for two hours.”

  “You did it?” Mason asked.

  “I only did part of it.”

  “What part?”

  “About the third time – I think it was the third time I was making the trip up Hollywood Boulevard I passed a store and a little girl cried out, ‘Momma, there she is now!’”

  “Then what happened?”

  “A woman ran to the door and took a look at me and then suddenly dashed out of the store and started following me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked up Hollywood Boulevard just as I had been instructed, and the photographer was there at the corner and took a picture of me, and I think of the woman following me. Then suddenly I got frightened. I jumped in my car which I’d left parked on the side street and drove away as fast as I could.”

  “That was when?”

  “That was yesterday.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I made it a point to look up Minerva Minden, and the more I saw of the thing the more I was satisfied that I was being groomed as a double for some sinister purpose. So I made up my mind that I’d just bring matters to a head.”

  “By shooting up the airport?”

  “I decided I’d do something so darned spectacular that the whole business would be brought out into the open.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I rang up the number for instructions. They told me I didn’t need to do anything today. I learned that Miss Minden was taking a plane for New York. I checked her reservation. So I got all prepared and went to the airport.

  “She was wearing the same clothes that I was and – well, I got the pistol, loaded it with blank cartridges, had you inspect my appendicitis operation scar so there could be no question – Oh, it’s terribly mixed up, Mr Mason, but it was the best way I could think of, of–”

  “Never mind all that,” Mason said. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, I went down to the airport. I waited until Minerva showed up and went into the women’s room, then I jumped up, grabbed the gun, yelled ‘This isn’t a stick-up’ and shot into the air. Then I dashed into the women’s room. There are several stalls in there for showers where a person can put in a coin, get a shower, towels and all of that. Those stalls insure complete privacy. So I ran into the rest room, skidded the gun along the floor, put the coin in the slot and went into the shower.

  “I felt sure that Minerva would walk into the trap, and of course she did.”

  “You mean she came out of the rest room and was identified?”

  “She came out of the rest room and was promptly identified. People came crowding around her and the cops started questioning her and of course that gave her a pretty good background of what had happened.”

  “And at that time you thought she’d say that she hadn’t done it at all, that it was someone else and the officers would look in the rest room and find you.”

  “Well, I wasn’t certain that it would go that far. I thought that I would have an opportunity to get out of the rest room in the excitement before the officers came in and searched, but what I was totally unprepared for was to have her realize what had happened and with diabolical coolness say that she had been the one who had fired the shots.”

  Mason looked at his client steadily.

  “She was the one who fired the shots, wasn’t she, Dorrie? And you’re working some part of a carefully rehearsed scheme?”

  “On my honour, Mr Mason, I was the one who fired those shots. Minerva was the one who tried to take the blame – and I can tell you how you can prove it in case you absolutely have to. I was afraid that if I said ‘This is a stick-up,’ that even if the gun had blank cartridges in it I might be guilty of some sort of a felony, of trying to get money by brandishing a firearm or something, so I played it safe by shouting at the top of my voice, ‘This isn’t a stick-up.’

  “Now, I know that most of the witnesses heard what they thought they should have heard, and claim the person brandishing the gun said this is a stick-up. But if you should ever have to cross-examine them and should ask them if it wasn’t a fact that the woman said this isn’t a stick-up, I’ll bet you they would admit that that’s what they really heard – but you know how it is. No one wants to come forward and be the first to say the woman said this isn’t a stick-up. It would make them sound sort of foolish and – well, that’s the way it is. No one would want to be the first, but once someone tells the real truth the others will fall in line.”

  “Just what did you have in mind?” Mason asked. “What do you want me to do now?”

  She said, “I want you to protect my interests. I would like to find out what it is that happened on the sixth of September that would have caused someone to go to all this trouble.”

  “You feel that you were built up as a fall guy, a substitute, a Patsy.”

  She said, “I’m quite satisfied that I have been built up as a double and am going to be called on to take the blame for something I didn’t do. And if you had detectives follow me to the airport, you know I was the one who fired those shots and then the woman who came out – this Minerva Minden, did some quick thinking and decided to take the blame rather than let it be known I was her double.”

  “Would you mind letting me see your driving licence again?” Mason asked.

  “Certainly not.”

  She opened her purse, took out her driving licence and handed it to Mason.

  Mason checked the licence, then said, “Let me have your thumb. I’m going to make a comparison.”

  “Good heavens, but you’re suspicious!”

  “I’m a lawyer,” Mason said. “I hate to have anything slipped over on me.”

  She immediately extended her thumb.

  Mason said, “I know your aversion to fingerprints so I’ll try making a check from the thumb itself.”

  He took a magnifying glass from his desk, studied the thumb and the print on the driving licence.

  “Satisfied?” she asked.

  Mason nodded.

  “Now I’ll show you the scar.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mason said. “I’m convinced.”

  “Very well,” she said. “Now will you try and find out what it is I’m being framed for? In other words, what sort of a racket I’m mixed up in?”

  Mason nodded.

  “Now look,” she told him, “this is going to take some money. I don’t have very much but–”

  “Suppose we skip that for the moment,” Mason said. “I’ll give the case a once-over and then get in touch with you.”

  “I’m so … so frightened,” she said.

  “I don’t think you need to be,” Mason told her.

  “But I’m fighting someone who has unlimited money, someone who is ruthless and unbelievably clever, Mr Mason. I’m afraid that even with your help I – Well, I’m afraid they may pin something on me.”

  Mason said, “Call that unlisted number right now and ask the person who answers what your duties are for tomorrow.”

  Mason caught Della Street’s eye. “You can call him from this phone,” he said, “and I want to listen in and see what the man says.”

  She hesitated a moment.

  “Any objections?” Mason asked.

  “I’m not supposed to call until later on.”

  “Well, let’s try it now,” Mason said. “Let’s see if there’s an answer. Miss Street will fix the telephone connection so you’re connected with an outside line and you can go right ahead and dial the number.”

  Della Street smiled, picked up the telephone, pressed the button and a moment later when a light flashed on the phone, handed the instrument to Dorrie Ambler.

  “Go right ahead,” Mason said. “Dial the number.” Dorrie seated herself at Della Street’s desk and dialled the number. When she had finished dialling, Mason picked up the telephone to listen.

  A man’s voice said, “Yes? Hello.”

  “Who is this?” Dorrie Ambler asked.

  “Who are you calling?”

  Dorrie Ambler gave the number.

  “All right, what do you want?”

  “This is Miss Ambler – Dorrie. I wanted to know what instructions there were for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” the man’s voice said, “you simply sit tight. Do nothing. Take it easy. Go to a beauty shop. Have a good time.”

  “I do nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “And my salary?”

  “Goes on just the same,” the man said, and hung up.

  Dorrie Ambler looked over at Mason as though for instructions and slowly dropped the telephone receiver into its cradle.

  “All right,” Mason said cheerfully, looking at his watch, “we’ve got to close up the office and go home, Miss Ambler, and I guess the best thing for you to do is the same.”

  “Suppose something should happen – there should be some developments. Where can I reach you?”

  “I don’t have a night number where you can reach me,” Mason said, “but if you want to call the Drake Detective Agency which is on this floor and leave a message for me, they’ll see that I get it within an hour or so at the latest … You feel something may be going to happen?”

  “I don’t know. I just have that feeling of dread, of apprehension, of something hanging over my head. Minerva Minden knows what happened, of course, and she’s apt to do almost anything. You see, she’ll know I’ve found out she’s the one I’m doubling for.”

  Mason said, “We’ll try to find out what it’s all about, and don’t worry.”

  “I feel better now that the situation is in your hands – but I do have a definite feeling that I’m being jockeyed into position for a very devastating experience.”

  “Well, we can’t do very much until we know more of the facts,” Mason said.

  “And remember, Mr Mason, I want to pay you. I can get some money. I can raise some. Would five hundred dollars be enough?”

  “When can you raise five hundred dollars?” Mason asked.

  “I think I could have it by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “You’re going to borrow it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who from?”

  “A friend.”

  “A boy friend?”

  She hesitated a moment, then slowly nodded.

  “And does he know anything about all of this?” Mason asked.

  “No. He knows that I have a rather peculiar job. He’s been asking questions but I’ve been sort of – well, giving indefinite answers. I think any young woman who has training in the business world should learn to keep her mouth tightly closed about the things she observes on the job. I think she should keep them entirely removed from her social life.”

  “That’s very commendable,” Mason said. “You go on home and I’ll try and find out something more about all this and then get in touch with you.”

  “Thank you so much,” Dorrie Ambler said, and then acting on a sudden impulse, gave him her hand. “Thank you again, Mr Mason. You’ve taken a tremendous load off my shoulders. Good night. Good night, Miss Street.”

  She slipped out of the door into the corridor.

  “Well?” Della Street asked.

  “Now,” Mason said, “we find out what happened at Western and Hollywood Boulevard on September sixth. Unless I’m very much mistaken, Minerva Minden was driving while intoxicated and became involved in a hit-and-run, and now she wants to confuse the witnesses so they’ll make a wrong identification.

  “Telephone the traffic department at Headquarters, Della, and see what they have on file for hit-and-run on the sixth.”

  Della Street busied herself on the phone, made shorthand notes, thanked the person at the other end of the line, hung up and turned to Perry Mason.

  “On the night of the sixth,” she said, “a pedestrian, Horace Emmett, was struck in the crosswalk at Hollywood Boulevard and Western Avenue. He is suffering from a broken hip. The car which struck him was driven by a young woman. It was a light-coloured Cadillac. The woman stopped, sized up the situation, got out of the car, then changed her mind, jumped into the car and drove away. She apparently was intoxicated.”

  Mason grinned. “Okay, Della. We close up the place and I’ll buy you a dinner. Tomorrow we’ll see about Minerva Minden. By tomorrow night we’ll have a very nice cash settlement for our client, Dorrie Ambler, and a very, very handsome cash settlement for Horace Emmett.

  “And we’ll let Paul have his man, Jerry Nelson, cover Minerva Minden’s hearing tomorrow and see what the judge does to her – and better tell Paul to get all the dope on that Horace Emmett accident.”

  Chapter Four

  At ten o’clock the next morning Paul Drake’s code knock sounded on the door of Mason’s private office.

  Mason nodded to Della Street, who opened the door for the detective.

  “Hi, Beautiful,” Paul said. “It does you good to get out and dance. Your eyes look like the depths of a deep pool in the moonlight.”

  Della Street smiled, said, “And it does you good to sit in an office and drink cold coffee and eat soggy hamburgers. Your mind is filled with matters of romance.”

  Drake made a wry face. “I can taste that cold coffee yet.”

  He turned to Perry Mason. “I sent Jerry Nelson down to the hearing on the report for probation and the fixing of sentence in Minerva Minden’s case, Perry. I gave him your number and told him to report to me here. I felt that you’d want to know just as soon as I heard from him.”

  Mason nodded.

  “I held him up a little while,” Drake said, “because it wasn’t certain that Minerva Minden was going to be in court personally. She might have appeared through an attorney.”

  “She’s there?” Mason asked.

  “In person, with all her charm,” Drake said. “She is adept at showing just enough leg to win the judge over to her side and stop just short of indecent exposure. That’s quite a gal.”

  Drake looked at his watch. “We should be hearing from Nelson any minute now.”

  “Wasn’t there some litigation over the Minden inheritance?” Della asked.

  Drake grinned. “There was some and there could have been a hell of a lot more. Old Harper Minden left a whale of a fortune and not a single heir in the world that anybody could find until finally some enterprising investigator dug up Minerva.

  “Minerva at the time was slinging hash and was something of a problem. She was supposed to be wild in those days. Now that she’s got a whole flock of money, she’s a quote madcap unquote.”

  “But Harper Minden wasn’t her grandfather, was he?” Mason asked.

  “Hell, no. He was related to her through some sort of a collateral relationship, and actually the bulk of the estate is still tied up. Minerva has received a partial distribution of five or six million, but–”