Mason was thoughtful for several seconds. “Why should all this cause Diana to leave her brother, critically ill, come to Los Angeles, and start putting ads in the paper?”

  Drake shrugged his shoulders and said, “If you want us to keep on we’ll find out. Probably it’s some form of blackmail which involves the family in some way.”

  “You say there are no other members of the family?” Mason asked.

  “That’s all. The parents are dead. Diana and her brother, Edgar, are the only survivors at the present time. Diana has never been married. Edgar is a bachelor, but the rumor is he’s going to announce an engagement to a wealthy heiress—although that’s just rumor.”

  “How old?” Mason asked.

  “Diana?”

  “No, Edgar.”

  “A little over twenty-one.”

  “Younger than Diana,” Mason said thoughtfully.

  “A couple of years.”

  “She could try to mother him a little,” Mason said.

  “It has been done,” Drake conceded. … “How about you giving a helping hand?”

  “To whom?”

  “To me, and, incidentally, to yourself,” Drake said. “If you can tell me about Diana’s case and why you’re interested I may be able to help both of you. At least I can save you a little money.”

  Mason shook his head. “I can’t, Paul. I’m bound by professional ethics.”

  “Do you want me to keep on the job?” Drake asked.

  “For a while,” Mason said.

  “Want me to put a tail on her?”

  Mason said, “I’d like to know where she goes and who she sees, but that’s a pretty ticklish job because I don’t want her to feel that she’s being shadowed. If that happened it might alarm her and cause her to take steps which would be against her own best interests.”

  Drake said, “Then you’d better let me make a very casual shadow job of it, because on a tight shadow job the subject is quite frequently aware of the tail. It’s a pretty difficult job to put on a real shadow and guarantee that the subject is completely unaware of it.”

  “Then make it a loose shadow job,” Mason said.

  “Of course,” Drake went on, “where money is no object, we can use enough operatives to—”

  “We haven’t an unlimited expense account here, Paul, and I don’t know that it’s absolutely imperative that we know where this young woman goes and what she does, but I would like to keep in touch with her and I would dislike very, very much to have her become alarmed and take a powder.”

  “Okay,” Drake said, “I’ll see what can be done. We’ll make a loose tail job of it. When do you want a report?”

  “Whenever you have anything worthwhile,” Mason said, put his hand briefly on Paul Drake’s shoulder, and walked down to his own office.

  5

  THE WILLATSON HOTEL was a commercial hotel which operated on a basis of live-and-let-live. Very little attention was paid to people who came through the doors, crossed the lobby, and walked directly to the elevator.

  Perry Mason, however, felt it better to follow the procedure of being a total stranger.

  He went to the desk, caught the eye of the clerk, and said, “Do you have a Miss Diana Deering registered here?”

  “Just a moment.”

  The clerk looked through a file and said, “Seven-sixty-seven.”

  “Will you announce me, please?”

  The clerk seemed bored. “What name?”

  “She won’t know the name,” Mason said. “It’s in connection with a social-security inquiry. Tell her it has to do with thirty-six, dash, twenty-four, dash, thirty-six.”

  The clerk said, “Very well,” picked up the phone, rang Room 767 and said, “A gentleman is here to see you in connection with an inquiry about a number. I believe it’s a social-security number. … What’s that? … Very well, I’ll tell him if that’s your message.”

  He turned to Mason, said, “She is having no social-security problems. You’ll have to give me a name or—”

  Mason raised his voice and said, “You didn’t give her the number: thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six.”

  The receiver suddenly made squawking sounds.

  The clerk said, “It’s quite all right. She wants to see you. She heard you give the number over the telephone. You may go on up.”

  The clerk hung up the telephone and returned to the task of bookkeeping with a manner of bored indifference.

  Mason took the elevator to the seventh floor and knocked on the door of Room 767.

  The young woman who had been in his office earlier in the week opened the door quickly, then fell back in amazement. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “You!”

  “Why not?” Mason asked.

  “How … how did you know where I was? … How did you know who I—”

  Mason pushed his way into the room as she fell back, closed the door, walked over to a chair, and seated himself.

  “Now, let’s talk a little sense for a change,” he said. “Your real name is Diana?”

  “Yes.”

  “Diana what?”

  “Diana Deering.”

  “Let’s try doing better than that,” Mason said.

  “That’s my name, Mr. Mason. You ask down at the desk if you don’t believe it. That’s—”

  “That’s the name you’re registered under,” Mason interrupted. “But that’s not your name. How about Diana Douglas of San Francisco? Would that do any better?”

  For a moment her eyes showed dismay, then her face flushed. “I retained you as my attorney,” she said. “You’re supposed to help me, not to go chasing around trying to uncover things about my past, trying to cooperate with …”

  Her voice trailed into silence.

  “With the police?” Mason asked.

  “No, not with the police,” she said. “Thank heavens, I haven’t done anything that violates the law.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Look here,” Mason said, “I’m an attorney. People come to me when they’re in trouble. I’m supposed to help them. You came to me and sneaked up on my blind side. I didn’t do a very good job of helping you. I’m sorry about that. That’s why I decided I’d better find you before it was too late.”

  “You’re mistaken, Mr. Mason. I’m not in any trouble. I’m trying to—to protect a friend.”

  “You’re in trouble,” Mason said. “Does the Escobar Import and Export Company know where you are?”

  “I don’t know. … They know that I’m away on personal business.”

  Mason reached across her lap, picked up the black handbag.

  “You leave that alone!” she screamed, grabbing his arm with both hands.

  Mason kept his grip on the bag.

  “Full of money?” he asked.

  “That’s none of your business. I want to fire you right now. I wanted an attorney to protect me. You’re worse than the police. Let go of that bag. You’re fired!”

  “Where did you get the money that’s in this bag?” Mason asked.

  “That’s none of your business!”

  “Did you, perhaps, embezzle it from the company where you worked?” the lawyer asked.

  “Good heavens, no!”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure!”

  Mason shook his head. “Would it surprise you to know that the Escobar Import and Export Company called in an auditor to go over its books?”

  Her face showed surprise, then consternation. Her grip on his arm weakened. “Why, why in the world—good heavens … they couldn’t.”

  “That’s the information I have,” Mason said. “Now, suppose you do a little talking and try telling the truth for a change. What’s your capacity with the Escobar Import and Export Company? What do you do?”

  “I’m a cashier and bookkeeper. I have charge of foreign exchange and foreign payments. I … Mr. Mason, there must be some mistake.”

  Mason said, “Let’s look at basic facts. You come to my office. You have a bag that’s loaded with money. You—”

  “How did you know about what’s in this bag?”

  “My receptionist had a chance to see the inside of it,” Mason said. “It was loaded with bills.”

  “Oh,” she said, and then was silent.

  Mason said, “You put an ad in the paper indicating that you were here to pay off a blackmail demand. So, let’s put two and two together. You take an assumed name. You come to Los Angeles. You put an ad in the paper. You are dealing with a blackmailer. You have a large sum of money with you in the form of cash. The company where you work evidently feels some money is missing. It calls in an auditor.”

  Diana sat silent. From the open window came noises of traffic from the street.

  “Well?” Mason asked, after a while.

  “It’s absolutely fantastic,” she said, removing her hands from Mason’s arm. “There’s—there’s nothing I can do.”

  “I’m trying to help you,” Mason reminded her. “You’ve made it rather difficult for me so far. Perhaps if you tried telling me the truth I could put in my time helping you instead of running around in circles trying to cut your back trail. … Now, did you embezzle that money?”

  “Heavens, no!”

  “How much money do you have in this bag in the form of cash?”

  “Five thousand dollars.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  She was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m going to tell you the truth.”

  Mason settled back in his chair, said, “You’re a little bit late with it and I don’t know how much time we have, but go ahead.”

  She said, “The whole thing happened when my brother was injured in an automobile accident. After they took him to the hospital I went to his room to get some things for him—shaving things and things of that sort that I thought he’d need in the hospital, and I found his bags all packed and a letter addressed simply ‘DEAR FUGITIVE.’ The letter said that the writer was fed up with waiting around; that either he should receive five thousand dollars by Tuesday night or other action would be taken.”

  “How was the letter written?” Mason asked.

  “In typing. It was all typed, even the signature.”

  “And the signature was 36-24-36?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And the postmark?”

  “Los Angeles.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “Mr. Mason, my brother was unconscious in the hospital. I couldn’t let him down. I arranged to put an ad in the paper, just as the letter said I was to do, and came down here.”

  “And the money?”

  “My brother had the money in a briefcase in his apartment. He was all ready to go. Apparently, he was going to drive down. He had the briefcase with the money, a suitcase and an overnight bag.”

  “And where did he get the money?”

  “Mr. Mason, I … I don’t know.”

  “Your brother works in the same company you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could he have embezzled the money from the company?”

  “Mr. Mason, in the first place Edgar wouldn’t ever do anything criminal. In the second place, he wouldn’t have had access to the money. The cash is kept in a money safe in the vault. Only the top executives have the combination.”

  “But you have it?”

  “Yes, it’s my job to check the books on the cash—not every day, but twice a month I have to add up the withdrawal slips and see that everything balances.”

  “Tell me a little more about Edgar,” Mason said.

  “He’s young. He’s a year and a half younger than I am. He … our parents were killed five years ago. I’ve tried to help Edgar every way I could. He’s a sensitive individual who—”

  “You’re both working for the Escobar Export and Import Company. Who got the job there first?”

  “I did.”

  “What about the company?”

  “It engages in exports and imports just as the name indicates.”

  “What kind of a company?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A big company, a little company, a—”

  “No, it’s pretty much of a one-man concern.”

  “Who’s the big wheel?”

  “Mr. Gage—Franklin T. Gage.”

  “How many employees?”

  “Oh, perhaps ten or fifteen altogether. There are five working full time in the office and an auditor and tax man.”

  “Do I understand then there are others who work outside of the office?”

  “Yes, there are scouts and buyers.”

  “But nevertheless they are employees?”

  “In a sense, yes.”

  “How old a man is Franklin Gage?”

  “Forty-something or other. Perhaps forty-five.”

  “He runs the company?”

  “Yes. He’s the big shot.”

  “Who’s next in command?”

  “Homer.”

  “Homer Gage?”

  “Yes.”

  “His son?”

  “His nephew.”

  Mason’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How long after you started work there did your brother, Edgar, start work?”

  “About six months.”

  “And what was he doing during those six months?”

  “He was doing nothing. He had been let out at the place where he was working. He became involved in a lot of office intrigue and—It’s too long a story to tell you.”

  “Who supported him?”

  “I did.”

  “So then after six months, you got a job for him there at the company where you work. … Who gave him the job, Franklin Gage or Homer?”

  “Franklin.”

  Mason regarded her shrewdly. “You didn’t talk to Homer about it?”

  “I talked to Mr. Gage. Mr. Franklin Gage.”

  “At the office?”

  “No, I worked late one night and he said that I’d missed my dinner on account of working and that the company was going to buy my dinner.”

  “So in the intimacy of that little dinner party you took occasion to tell him about your brother and asked him if Edgar could have a job?”

  “Yes. Only you make it sound so very … so very calculating.”

  Mason brushed her remark aside with a wave of his hand. “How did Homer react to that?”

  “I didn’t ask Homer.”

  “That wasn’t my question,” Mason answered. “I wanted to know how Homer reacted to it.”

  “Well,” she said, “I think that Homer felt that we really didn’t need to take on Edgar at the time.”

  “And what are Edgar’s duties? What does he do?”

  “He’s a liaison man.”

  “Now then,” Mason went on, “Edgar had been out of work for six months and you had been supporting him?”

  “I’d been helping out. He had unemployment insurance and—”

  “So where,” Mason interrupted, “did he get five thousand dollars in cash?”

  “I—I just don’t know.”

  “Not from you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have five thousand dollars?”

  “I … yes, I do.”

  “More than that?”

  “A very little more.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In savings banks.”

  Mason took mental inventory of the situation, then said abruptly, “This Homer Gage, what’s his attitude toward you?”

  “Friendly.”

  “Very friendly?” Mason asked.

  “I think he’d like to be.”

  “Married or single?”

  “Married.”

  “Ever met his wife?”

  “Not formally. She’s been at the office a couple of times to get checks cashed or something like that. She’s smart-looking … you know, very much on the ball. They say she’s a bitch.”

  “Her husband steps out?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I do know his married life isn’t happy.”

  “You see him looking at the other girls in the office. Doubtless you’ve discussed him with the other girls. Does he keep them after hours?”

  “I don’t know. I think perhaps … well, I just don’t know.”

  “Does he step out?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t know.”

  “Does he step out?”

  “All right, if you’re going to be insistent about it, I think he does, but I wouldn’t know.”

  “And Homer’s had you stay after hours more than once?”

  She hesitated, then said, in a low voice, “Yes.” Then added quickly, “You see the business is very, very unconventional. It’s a complicated deal of buying and selling in large lots, and quite frequently the deals are made on a spot-cash basis.

  “This is particularly true in connection with Oriental goods. You see, we have to have a Certificate of Origin on goods which are taken out of Hong Kong, for instance, and … well, sometimes matters have to be handled with a great deal of diplomacy.”

  “So sometimes you work late?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Homer has had you work late?”

  “Yes.”

  “And taken you out to dinner?”

  “Twice.”

  “And propositioned you?”

  “What do you mean by that, Mr. Mason?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “If you mean has he ever come out cold turkey with a proposition, the answer is ‘no’, but all men proposition you. They size you up. They look you over. They make a remark occasionally with a double meaning. They tell a story that’s a little broad. They are quick to follow up any opening. … Mr. Mason, I don’t need to tell you how men are. They’re always on the lookout in an aggressive way, and if they get an opening they follow up and just keep pushing.”

  “And Homer Gage has been like that?”

  “He’s been like that. He isn’t going to come right out in the open and make any proposition and get rebuffed and perhaps have his uncle know what is happening and—”

  “The uncle likes you?” Mason said.

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Married or single?”