“Nothing much. He was an actor, if you want to call it that—I guess he still is. Helene, you know, wasn’t top billing until she made that picture where she played the part of the Korean newspaper correspondent.”

  Mason nodded.

  “Why, what’s the pitch?” Drake asked.

  Mason said, “Evelyn Bagby was arrested for theft of jewels from Irene Keith’s car. She was acquitted yesterday.”

  “That’s right,” Drake said. “Tried up in one of the cow counties, wasn’t she? I read about it in the paper.”

  “Make it an orange county,” Mason said, grinning. “She was tried in Riverside.”

  Drake nodded.

  “Now then,” Mason went on, “I’d like to get some sort of a settlement for Evelyn Bagby.”

  “Does she have a case?”

  “Not at present. She can’t prove malice. There probably wasn’t any. Irene Keith swore to the complaint but she did so on the advice of the deputy district attorney.”

  Drake nodded.

  “But,” Mason went on, “if I know more about the facts in the case I might find there was a frame-up. Then Evelyn Bagby would be in a different position. If the girl was guilty that’s one thing. If she was innocent, and the evidence so indicates, then someone deliberately tried to frame her. The person who planted the bracelet in her motel room certainly tried to frame her, and Harry Boles, the man who identified her as having opened the suitcase taken from Irene Keith’s automobile, may have been the victim of an honest mistake or he may have been in on the frame-up.”

  Drake nodded.

  “Find out,” Mason said.

  “How soon?”

  “Fast.”

  Drake heaved himself out of the chair. “You’re so good to me,” he complained, as he turned the knob on the exit door.

  “And here’s another thing,” Mason called as Drake opened the door, “find out about Steve Merrill. See if he ever went under the name of Staunton Vester Gladden.”

  Drake turned back to the office. “What name?”

  “Staunton Vester Gladden.”

  Drake jotted the name in his notebook. “I suppose you want that information within thirty minutes.”

  Mason grinned.“Tomorrow night will do on that one, Paul.”

  Chapter 6

  At four-forty-five that afternoon Mason’s unlisted telephone rang sharply. Mason nodded to Della Street to answer it.

  Della said, “Hello … Okay, just a minute, Paul.”

  She turned to Mason. “Paul Drake says one of his men has information from Corona.”

  Mason took the phone, said, “Hello, Paul.”

  Drake said, “Hi, Perry. One of my men has uncovered pay dirt at Corona. The 3D Motel, right across from the tavern, rented a unit at 11:30 a.m. on the day the jewels were stolen to a young woman wearing dark glasses, who seems to have given a phony name and address. A maid says she saw this woman coming out of Evelyn Bagby’s unit at the motel. The maid wouldn’t have paid any attention to it only the woman seemed so self-conscious. She explained she’d made a mistake and walked into the wrong place. She was just taking her stuff in from her car.”

  “What time?” Mason asked sharply.

  “It must have been when this woman rented the place, around eleven-thirty. Some time between then and eleven-forty-five. The manager can’t be absolutely certain. She remembers that the unit had just been made up. The checking out time is ten o’clock. The maids come to work at ten o’clock and it takes them until about two to get things finished. So when this person showed up at eleven-thirty in the morning the manager had to find one unit that was already made up so that she could rent it to her. She remembers the time from that.”

  “How about a description?” Mason asked.

  “I’m coming to that,” Drake said. “She was tall. About five feet six. She wore dark glasses, good clothes, and was driving an expensive make of automobile. The manager can’t be sure which. The tenant listed the car on the registration slip as a Cadillac, but the manager is inclined to think it was a Lincoln. She’s just not sure.”

  “What about the license number?”

  “I’ve checked it,” Drake said. “It’s a phony.”

  “And the address?”

  “Fictitious.”

  “What else about the description of the girl?”

  “Well-dressed, smartly tailored, well-modulated voice, and kept dark glasses on all the time. The manager thinks she was about twenty-nine or thirty. She remembers one thing about her. The woman wore a distinctive pair of alligator-skin shoes. The manager noticed those. They were expensive shoes. The girl had pretty feet and ankles and the manager noticed the shoes because she was trying to size this woman up. You know they don’t like to rent motel units at that hour in the morning to an unescorted, attractive young woman who might get the place into trouble.”

  “But she did rent a unit to this one?”

  “That’s right. The woman said she’d been driving most of the night, that she was going on into Hollywood and she wanted to get two or three hours’ sleep, that she was perfectly willing to pay for a full day on the unit, even though she would only be there a few hours. She said she wanted to rest her eyes and relax for an hour or so.”

  “And how long was she there?”

  “That’s the significant thing,” Drake said. “She evidently had checked out by one o’clock.”

  “How come?”

  “At twelve-thirty one of the maids noticed that this unit was vacant, that the key was on the outside of the door. Someone had taken a shower and left towels on the floor. But the bed hadn’t been disturbed at all and there wasn’t any baggage in the place.”

  “And this woman did go in Evelyn Bagby’s cabin?”

  “Apparently so. The maid saw her coming out. She thinks it was this same woman who rented the cabin at such an unusually early hour.”

  Mason said, “Of course, Paul, at that time the jewelry hadn’t been stolen.”

  “I know. I thought you’d be interested.”

  “I am. Where was Evelyn?”

  “Apparently out to breakfast. She slept late while she was there, told the maid she’d had to get up by an alarm clock for years and was going to enjoy life while she had the chance.”

  Mason said, “Get pictures of Irene Keith, Paul. See if the maid can identify this mysterious tenant as Irene. If she can we’re off to the races.”

  “Remember this woman was wearing dark glasses, Perry.”

  “Well, keep after it.”

  “I will,” Drake promised. “You going to be there for a while?”

  “I’ll let you know when I leave,” Mason told him. “In fact, I’ll drop by your office on my way out. You keep working on this angle.”

  “What’s new?” Della Street asked as Mason hung up.

  Mason relayed Drake’s information on to her, said, “Try getting Evelyn Bagby on the phone, Della.”

  “Do you want to talk with her personally?”

  “No. Tell her there are some new and very interesting developments in her case. Tell her that Irene Keith may approach her personally and try to dazzle her with an offer of settlement. Tell her that no matter what happens or how extravagant the offer may seem, she isn’t to make any settlement.”

  Della Street nodded, started for the outer office. “I’ll put through the call out there, Chief, so it won’t disturb you.”

  “Then get Frank Neely at Riverside,” Mason said. ““Tell him that we’re working on a hot lead.”

  Della Street went into the other room to put through the call. Mason started pacing the floor, his eyes narrowed in thought.

  A few minutes later Della Street returned. “Chief, I got Joe Padena on the phone. Evelyn isn’t there.”

  “No?” Mason asked, pausing in his pacing.

  “No. Evelyn worked from twelve until three. She goes on again at eight and works until one in the morning. You can figure what happened. You gave her a hundred dollars and got her a job. She’s out getting new clothes.”

  Mason grinned. “That, Della, we could regard as elemental.”

  “Here’s another bit of information Padena gave me. I asked if anyone else had been asking for Evelyn—if there were any messages. He said a man called and left word that S.M. was willing to settle and would they please see that Evelyn got the message.”

  “S.M.?” Mason asked.

  “Yes, just those two initials.”

  “Steve Merrill,” Mason said. “How the devil did he know where he could reach her?”

  “Perhaps she called him again.”

  “She could have.”

  “Or,” Mason said, “that message about settling could have related to the matter of the arrest—and if we can identify that woman who went to Evelyn’s cabin in Corona as Irene Keith I wouldn’t settle for twenty-thousand dollars.”

  “Shall we leave a message for Evelyn Bagby?” Della Street asked.

  “She might call S.M. first,” Mason said.

  “So what do we do?”

  Mason looked at his watch, reached a quick decision.

  “Della, take my car. Hop out there. Take the short cut. The minute Evelyn Bagby shows up give her my message. Be sure she gets that message before she sees anyone else or gets any message. Call me when you’ve talked with her and we’ll meet for dinner out in Hollywood—or are you free?”

  “Yes, I’m free. I’m also hungry. I’m on my way. I’ll be calling you, probably within an hour.”

  She adjusted her hat and coat, opened the exit door, flashed him a smile, then said, “Heavens, I didn’t call Neely. I got this report from Joe Padena, and—”

  Mason motioned her on her way. “Gertie can get Neely. You get going, Della.”

  Mason stood for a moment looking at the closing door, then crossed over to his desk, picked up the phone and said to Gertie at the switchboard, “Get Frank Neely at Riverside for me. I’ll hang on to the line.”

  Mason advised Neely that because of “certain developments” it would be unwise to even discuss a settlement at the present time.

  “That’s okay,” Neely told him, laughing. “I’m leaving everything in your hands, Counselor. If they asked me I wouldn’t even tell them what time it was. I’m just tagging along as associate counsel as a matter of courtesy.”

  “You’re tagging along in this,” Mason said, “because you’re going to get some cash to compensate you for the work you did in defending Evelyn Bagby.”

  “You think things look promising?”

  “Oh, it’s difficult to tell,” Mason said noncommittally, “but we may be on a lead that will enable us to get a fair settlement.”

  “Well, I hope so on account of the girl. She needs the money,” Neely said. “But you must know some law that I don’t. I’m darned if I see how you can bring an action for malicious prosecution when the complainant in the case acted under instructions from the deputy D.A.”

  “I don’t know any law you don’t,” Mason replied, “but I’ve been in the practice long enough to realize that it’s advisable to get all the facts, and then apply the law.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Neely said.

  Mason laughed. “It takes a long time to learn that. It isn’t in the law books. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He hung up, settled back in his chair, locked his hands behind his head, and concentrated. After a while he lit a cigarette, smoked contemplatively, his mind probing the various facets of the situation that had been uncovered.

  Gertie tapped on the door of Mason’s private office, entered and said, “Irene Keith is in the office. She wants to see you about something she says she’ll have to explain personally.”

  “Is she alone?” Mason asked, flicking the switch which turned on the hidden tape recorder.

  Gertie nodded.

  “Send her in,” Mason said, grinding out the cigarette he was smoking, “and Gertie—”

  “Yes, Mr. Mason.”

  “If, within a few minutes, a Mervyn Aldrich should come in, stating that he was to meet Irene Keith, just tell him I’m in conference and left word that I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

  Gertie nodded.

  “The same holds true for anyone else,” Mason went on. “I’m about to have a conference with a young woman whose conscience is probably giving her twinges of remorse, and this time I want to be damn certain I’m not interrupted by someone who has a mental callus where his conscience should be. Do you get me?”

  Gertie smiled and turned toward the door. “Very definitely.”

  There was a cool, long-legged efficiency about the manner in which Irene Keith came striding into Mason’s private office, which indicated she had a carefully thought out plan of campaign.

  “Hello, Mr. Mason,” she said, coming forward to give him her hand. “I’m terribly sorry about what happened.”

  Mason raised his eyebrows.

  “About Merv. Mervyn Aldrich, you know.”

  “What about him?” Mason asked.

  “That manner of his, that way of looking at the thing with such a completely detached, dehydrated viewpoint. He squeezed every bit of human relationship out of the situation and regarded it as a dry problem in detached economics.”

  “Do sit down,” Mason said.

  “Mr. Mason, I want to do something for that girl.”

  “I think,” Mason told her, looking down at the alligator-skin shoes she was wearing, “that you’d better let me talk with your attorney.”

  She settled herself in the clients’ big chair, crossed her knees, smiled at Mason and said, “Why? Are you afraid of me, Mr. Mason?”

  “No, but the situation may be a little more complicated than I had at first supposed and—well, I think you should have an attorney.”

  “I don’t. I handle my own business affairs very nicely. I go to an attorney if I get in trouble.”

  “You’re in trouble now.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I think it is only fair to tell you, Miss Keith, that since my last talk with you I have uncovered some evidence that would make it seem that Evelyn Bagby has a very good cause of action for defamation of character, malicious prosecution, false arrest and imprisonment.”

  “My, you sound formidable.”

  “I intend to.”

  “And whom would the action be against, Mr. Mason?”

  “I believe you signed the complaint.”

  “Oh, if you want to get stuffy and technical,” she said, smiling, “I signed the complaint on the advice of a public official. The deputy district attorney told me to sign. In fact he made out the complaint and then pushed it across to me and said, ‘Sign here,’ and I signed there.”

  Mason nodded.

  “Doesn’t that completely eliminate any question of malice, Mr. Mason?”

  Mason said, “You seem to have an unusually clear concept of the law relating to prosecution for malicious arrest.

  “Oh,” she said, laughing, “I know the law.”

  “You do?”

  “Oh yes, I’ve been to my attorney on that.”

  “I see,” Mason said dryly.

  “I don’t think you do. You see, I retain an attorney to tell me what the law is. As far as deciding what to do, I think my business judgment is better than that of my attorney. I have made more money for myself than he has made for himself.”

  “Money, of course, isn’t everything,” Mason said.

  “It’s a dam good yardstick.”

  “Financial success depends on a lot of things. People may have initiative, judgment and skill and still be unsuccessful so far as money is concerned. There’s an element of daring and of luck in financial success.”

  “That’s exactly right, Mr. Mason. I’m glad to hear you say so. I have more initiative, more judgment, more skill than my attorney, and I have a darn sight more daring, and so far I’ve done all right on luck.”

  “So you saw your lawyer and asked him about the law.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “And he advised you?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What did he say?”

  She laughed and said, “Do you want to know exactly what he said?”

  “If you wish to tell me.”

  “He said I was to tell you and your client, Evelyn Bagby, to go to hell.”

  “So then you decided to come over here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “To make a settlement.”

  “It may be a little more difficult than you think.”

  “Oh, stuff and nonsense, Mr. Mason. I’m going to give that girl a thousand dollars. That will compensate her for all the annoyance and trouble she’s had. It will make my conscience feel a lot better and it will give you a fee. Here’s the check. I’ve made it out to you as attorney for Evelyn Bagby, and I’ve endorsed on the back of it that by acceptance, endorsement and cashing of this check you, as Evelyn Bagby’s attorney, warrant that I will be held forever harmless from any action by or on behalf of Evelyn Bagby because of false arrest, slander, malicious prosecution, false imprisonment, or anything else growing out of the events in connection with a loss of jewels in the County of Riverside, and that she will and does release any and all claims she may have against me from the beginning of the world to date.”

  Mason laughed and said, “That endorsement I take it, was dictated by your attorney.”

  “Oh certainly.”

  “Yet you preferred to handle negotiations yourself.”

  She nodded.

  “I think,” Mason said, “you’d better let your attorney tell me to go to hell personally.”

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Mason? Aren’t you going to accept this thousand dollars?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She looked at him with every semblance of complete stupefied surprise. “Good Lord, Mr. Mason, there’s a thousand dollars for your client! I’m handing it to you on a silver platter.”

  “I don’t see the platter,” Mason said.

  “I was speaking figuratively of course.”

  “I was.”

  Her eyes met his. “Are you bluffing, or do you have an ace in the hole?”

  “I have an ace in the hole.”

  “And you’re going to refuse to accept this check on behalf of your client? Are you going to turn down a settlement without even consulting your client?”