The Case of the Long-Legged Models

Chapter Five

Promptly at eight o’clock Mason parked his car across the street from the Ambrose Apartments and walked over to the entrance.

To the right of the door was a long row of push-buttons. To the right of each push-button was a name and an apartment number, and to the right of the card was the end of an old-fashioned speaking tube.

Apartment 211 had the name Casselman opposite it.

Mason pressed the call button.

Almost immediately there was an answer. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Mason.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you.”

“What about?”

“About some stock.”

A moment later the buzzer which released the electric catch on the front door sounded.

Mason pushed the front door open, climbed a flight of stairs to the second floor, walked down a corridor to where a figure was standing in a lighted doorway.

“You’re Mason?” the man asked.

“Yes. Casselman?”

“That’s right.”

“I wanted to talk with you about some stock. I’m representing Homer Garvin. Does the name mean anything to you?”

The man who had been silhouetted in the lighted doorway suddenly stepped back. The light from the inside illuminated sharp, thin features. The man was slender, alert and about thirty-five years of age. He was smiling broadly.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Mason. It means a good deal to me. Won’t you come in, please?”

Casselman flashed a glance at a wristwatch. “May I ask how you located me here?”

Mason said curtly, “I’m a lawyer,” as though that explained everything.

“Oh yes, I see. The question still remains that... Good heavens! You aren’t Perry Mason?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, well! This is indeed a pleasure.”

Casselman extended his hand. Mason shook hands. Casselman’s fingers were wiry and strong. “Sit down, Mr. Mason. Sit down. Can I get you a drink?”

“No thanks,” Mason said, “I haven’t much time.”

Again Casselman looked at his watch. “I’m rather pressed for time myself, Counselor. I have another appointment. Shall we get down to business?”

Mason nodded, sat down and took a cigarette from his case.

“I take it you’re familiar with the outstanding stock in the corporation?”

“That’s right.

“I control forty-five per cent of the stock. Your client has fifteen per cent and Stephanie Falkner has forty per cent.”

“Uh-huh,” Mason said, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke, crossing his long legs, and settling back in the chair comfortably.

“These Nevada corporations are different from some of the others,” Casselman said. “Gambling is legalized in Nevada, and of course that makes a difference.”

“Naturally,” Mason said.

“Gambling attracts gamblers,” Casselman said.

“Exactly,” Mason observed.

“And since gambling is not legalized in other states, the activities of gamblers are quite frequently associated with illegalities.”

“Naturally.”

“That is something many people don’t appreciate in dealing with situations of this sort.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks. What will Garvin take for his stock?”

“What will you give?”

“I am prepared to make one final definite offer.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll give thirty thousand dollars for that fifteen per cent of the stock.”

“It’s worth more.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. You are entitled to yours, I am entitled to mine. It’s worth thirty thousand to me only because it would represent the controlling interest.”

“I’ll pass the offer on to my client, but I don’t think it’s going to be satisfactory.”

“Well, that’s as high as we’ll go and I can point out one other thing to you, Mr. Mason.”

“What?”

“If by any chance we should get control of the corporation, that offer will of course be withdrawn. Once we get control we’ll buy out Garvin at our own price.”

“I don’t think so,” Mason said.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think you realize how much trouble a minority stockholder can be in a corporation of this nature.”

“Perhaps you don’t realize the type of person you’d be dealing with,” Casselman said.

“That’s entirely possible,” Mason told him. “Perhaps the others don’t realize the type of person they’d be dealing with.”

Casselman said, “Now, look, Mason, let’s keep this on a business basis. Let’s not get personal. You might get hurt.”

Mason said, “I’m not a damned bit afraid of getting hurt. I don’t frighten easily. Glenn Falkner was murdered. You went out and bought up three blocks of stock because the stockholders were frightened. Garvin isn’t frightened and I’m not frightened.”

“I don’t want any trouble, Mason,” Casselman said at length.

“Then don’t ask for it,” Mason told him. “For your information, Garvin won’t sell you his stock so you can get control of the corporation and then buy out the Falkner stock at your own price. We’ll offer you Garvin’s holdings as a part of a unit transaction with Stephanie Falkner.”

Casselman said suddenly, “All right. I’ll give her the same price. If you can...”

Abruptly the telephone rang. Casselman jumped nervously, said, “Excuse me a moment.” He walked into another room, picked up the telephone, and Mason heard him say, “Hello... You can’t — not now!” There was a moment’s silence, then Casselman said something in a low voice which Mason could not hear. After that he said, “Okay, give me two minutes,” and hung up without saying good-bye.

Casselman returned to the room, plainly uneasy and impatient, and said, “Mr. Mason, I’m going to have to ask you to excuse me. I have an appointment at eight-thirty, and a very important matter has come up which I have to dispose of between now and then.”

“Very well,” Mason said, moving toward the door. “How about giving me your telephone number?”

“I’m sorry. It’s an unlisted number.”

Mason stood with his hand on the knob, waiting.

Casselman said hurriedly, “All right, it’s Belding 6-9754.”

“Thank you,” Mason said, and moved out into the corridor. Casselman made no move to shake hands but hurriedly pulled the door closed. Mason noticed the door did not have a spring lock.

Mason left the apartment house, then sat in his car waiting. After a few minutes he saw Homer Garvin, Sr. drive up, jump from his car and hurry to the door of the apartment house.

Mason started to press his horn button, then something in Garvin’s manner caused him to change his mind. He sat watching, an interested spectator.

Garvin opened the outer door of the apartment house with a key and went in.

Three or four minutes later Garvin came back out, got in his car and had some trouble extricating himself from his parking place because of another car which had moved in ahead of him.

Mason pressed the button on his horn twice but Garvin, wrestling with the steering wheel, seemed too preoccupied to hear Mason’s signal.

It was just as Garvin moved out of the parking place that Stephanie Falkner drove up. She evidently saw Garvin as he drove out ahead of her car but did nothing to attract his attention. She did not see Mason but parked her car and went at once to the door of the apartment house.

Just as she was on the point of pressing Casselman’s bell, the door opened and a rather portly woman in the late forties emerged, then obligingly paused to hold the door open for Stephanie.

During the interval Mason had been waiting, only Homer Garvin and Stephanie Falkner had passed through the front door of the apartment house, and except for Garvin, the portly woman had been the only one to leave.

Mason waited a minute or two longer, then started his car and slowly circled the block.

It was quite dark. The only street illumination came from the lights at the corner. As Mason reached the front of the house again, he saw that Stephanie Falkner’s car was still parked in the place where she had left it.

The fourth time, Mason was halfway around when he saw the figure of a woman running down the service stairs at the back of the apartment house.

The lawyer slowed his car.

The woman ran to the alley, emerged on the lighted street and reluctantly slowed her pace to a walk.

Mason brought his car to a stop. “Want a ride, Miss Falkner?” She jumped back with a short half scream, then caught herself.

“Oh, you startled me!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Everything all right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Get in. I’ll drive you to your car. Did you get an offer?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Thirty thousand. He said it was all he could pay.”

“Cash?”

“Yes. How long have you been out here?”

“Oh, for a while.”

“What are you doing?”

“I saw Casselman.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He didn’t say anything about it. Did he make you an offer?”

“How much?”

“I’d prefer to have Homer Garvin tell you about that. As a lawyer I’m in a position to get information but not to give out any.”

“I see,” she said.

“Did you accept his offer?” Mason asked, slowing his car to a crawl.

“Certainly not. I told you I wouldn’t. I told him I’d call back and let him know.”

“Get along all right?” Mason asked.

“Certainly.”

“Any threats?”

“Of course not.”

“Any trouble?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then why didn’t you come out the front door?”

She caught her breath sharply. “Where were you?”

“Out back.”

She said, “I... he was talking over the telephone, and... well, I wanted to hear what he was saying. I sneaked out into the kitchen. It sounded as though the conversation might go on for a long time, then all of a sudden he hung up. I was trapped. He went back to the front room and, of course, saw I wasn’t there. So I sneaked out the back door and ran down the steps. In that way he won’t know I was listening. Later on I’ll tell him I got tired waiting and went out the front door while he was talking.”

“To whom was he talking?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know. The conversation wasn’t long enough for me to find out.”

Mason regarded her sharply. “You had some very compelling reason for trying to listen in on that conversation?”

She looked at him for a moment, then said, “Yes. I heard him use the name Garvin, and at first I thought it was... well, it might have been Homer Garvin calling.”

“Was it?”

“No. Apparently it was a woman.”

“You don’t know who this person was?”

“No.”

“Any idea?”

“It could have been Junior’s new wife. He was married in Chicago.”

“Could you gather from his tone whether it was a business deal or perhaps something involving a romantic attachment?”

“No.”

“Yet you heard some of the conversation?”

“Not enough to do any good.”

“You could hear the tone of his voice?”

“Yes.”

“And couldn’t tell from that what the conversation was about?”

“No.”

Mason regarded her thoughtfully.

“Well, here’s my car,” she said. “I’m living at the Lodestar Apartments. You can call me there after you get in touch with Mr. Garvin.”

There was a definite note of dismissal in her voice. She jumped out of Mason’s car, slid in behind the wheel of her car, turned the ignition key. The motor throbbed to life.

“I probably don’t sound like it,” she said, “but I’m very grateful to you.”

The car eased away from the curb.

Mason drove back to his office.

“Did you see Casselman?” Della Street asked.

Mason nodded.

“How is he? Dangerous?”

“If you had your back turned.”

She said, “Homer Garvin phoned to say he’d be up here in about half an hour. He said he had just got in from Las Vegas.”

“When did he phone, Della?”

“Five minutes ago.”

Mason said, “Don’t let me forget to congratulate him on his new daughter-in-law, Della.”

Della Street laughed. “There was a certain urgency about his voice,” Della Street said. “I think perhaps he has other matters on his mind.”

They worked on letters until there was a tap at the door of Mason’s office. Della Street opened the door. Homer Garvin who, Mason’s records showed, was fifty-one years old yet who looked no older than forty, said, “Hello, Della,” surveyed her with pinpointed gray eyes and patted her shoulder. Then he came across to shake hands with Mason, looked at his watch and said, “We’re going to have to work fast, Perry. Have you seen Casselman?”

“Yes.”

“What did he offer?”

“Thirty thousand dollars for the fifteen per cent interest you own.”

“What did he offer Stephanie?”

“Thirty thousand dollars for the forty per cent interest.”

“That can’t be right, Mason! He surely wouldn’t offer the same price for fifteen per cent as for forty per cent.”

“Both represent a controlling interest.”

“Why... that just isn’t right. He... Let’s go see Stephanie. I have something to tell her. What did you think of Casselman, Mason?”

“He’s a cold-blooded crook, but I think he’d wilt in a face-to-face fight.”

Garvin said, “From information I have now acquired, I have every reason to believe he’s the man who murdered Glenn Falkner, Stephanie’s father.”

“Evidence you can take to the police?” Mason asked sharply.

“I think so, Perry. A few hours before his death, Glenn Falkner told a friend of his he had a business matter to discuss with Casselman. I have finally managed to track down the car Casselman was driving at the time of Glenn Falkner’s death. Casselman sold it within three days after the murder. He traded it in on a new car.

“Now you’ll remember Glenn Falkner was riding in a car with somebody at the time he was murdered. The car was seen to come down the street at pretty good speed. The door on the right-hand side was flung open, and a body was pushed out of the car. It hung half in and half out of the car for about half a block, then hit the pavement with a thud and rolled over and over. The car sped away.

“Horrified pedestrians ran up to the man and found that he was dead as a mackerel. He had been shot once in the head, twice through the body. One of the bullets was still in the body.

“The car Casselman was driving at that time, or at least the car that he owned at that time, had been pretty carefully cleaned up, but by looking with a magnifying glass I could still find several small spots down between the opening of the door and the side of the front seat. There is also a dent in the metal of the door frame which in all probability was made by a bullet.

“I got a detective over there in Las Vegas to make some tests for me. He’s a pretty good detective and understands something about scientific investigation. There’s a test for blood they can make with luminol, that brings out blood spots and causes them to glow in the dark. He treated this car with luminol and got a very strong blood reaction from folds in the leather upholstery in the front seat, from a spot down underneath the seat cushion, and from the spots I had found between the side of the seat and the door.”

“Of course,” Mason said, “that’s very interesting. It is a clue. It’s what we might call a suspicious circumstance. However, it’s not proof.”

“I know. When I confront Casselman with that proof he’s going to start explaining. Then I may get proof.”

“When you confront him with it?” Mason said.

“That’s right.”

“You’d better let the police do that.”

Garvin flipped back the lapel of his coat. “I’m not afraid of the cheap crook. I’d shoot the guy like a dog if he so much as lifted a finger against us.”

Mason said sharply. “Do you have a license to carry that?”

“Don’t be silly,” Garvin said. “I have something better than a license. I’m a deputy sheriff. I’m supposed to carry arms. I have several revolvers and I’m not foolish enough ever to be without one. If anybody ever tries to hold me up he’s going to have his hands full.”

Mason regarded Garvin thoughtfully. “Where do you keep those other guns?”

“Various places. Junior has one, there’s always one in my safe. I own a sporting goods store among my other investments. I always carry a gun. I’m never without one, day or night.

“It makes me sick to open the papers and read about thugs beating their victims to death, old women being robbed and clubbed.

“Someday one of those guys will tackle me and then there will be fireworks. Kill a few of those people off and it will be a good thing all around.

“The way it is now the honest citizen is disarmed by law. The crook carries a gun as a matter of habit. Arm the law-abiding citizens, kill off some of these crooks and we’d have a lot better law enforcement.”

Mason shook his head. “Police who have studied the situation don’t agree with you, Homer.”

“Sure,” Garvin said, “but their way isn’t working out so well, either.”

Della Street caught Perry Mason’s eye.

Mason got her signal, turned to Homer Garvin.

“By the way,” he said, “I see you’re to be congratulated on a new daughter-in-law.”

Garvin sighed. “Yes,” he said. “I haven’t seen her yet. I talked with her on the telephone and gave the couple my blessing.”

“She’s a nice-looking girl,” Della Street said.

“Leave it to Junior! He picks them nice-looking... The trouble with him is that he’s restless, no emotional stability. A year or so ago it was all Eva Elliott. He wanted to marry her. Then that blew up. I felt sorry for Eva and gave her a job in the office when Marie left. By that time, Junior was rushing Stephanie Falkner.

“You may not know it but that’s how I became interested in this Falkner corporation. Six months ago I thought that Stephanie Falkner was going to be one of the family — and, hang it, I wish she had been. There’s a fine, level-headed girl! She could have been a balance wheel for Junior.

“Well, I hope he settles down now. That was what he needed — to get married and settle down. He’s too darned impulsive.

“Mason, what the devil are we going to do about this situation with Casselman?”

“Let’s go have a talk with Stephanie Falkner,” Mason said.

“Do you suppose it’s too late?” Garvin asked.

“We can find out,” Mason told him. “Della, ring the Lodestar Apartments, and see if Stephanie can talk with me. You don’t need to tell her that Mr. Garvin is with me. Simply tell her that we’d like to come over.”

“You want me along?” Della Street asked.

Mason nodded. “There might be a stock pooling agreement to write up.”

Della Street went out to put through the telephone call.

“Gosh! What a pleasure it is to have a real dependable secretary,” Garvin said. “I can’t begin to tell you how I miss Marie Arden.”

“Marie Barlow now,” Mason said.

Garvin frowned. “There should be a law against secretaries committing matrimony,” he said. “Hang it, Mason! Do you know she’s never been in to see me since she got married. I just can’t understand it.”

“What makes you think she hasn’t been in to see you?” Mason asked.

“She hasn’t, that’s all. I’ve never heard a word from her, not even a telephone call.”

Mason said, “For your information, Homer, she was in twice to see you. She got such a cold shoulder from your new secretary that she made up her mind she wasn’t wanted.”

“You mean Eva Elliott kept her from coming in to see me?” Garvin asked incredulously.

“That’s right. She told her you were busy. She didn’t even offer to ring your telephone.”

“Why... why... Well, that makes me feel a lot better.”

“Better?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” Garvin said. “I fired Eva Elliott tonight. I got back and asked her what the devil she meant by not telling you where I was. She told me that I’d told her not to tell anyone and that she was simply following instructions.

“That girl is completely show crazy. She wants to dramatize everything she does in terms of what some actress has done on film somewhere. Believe me, Mason, she makes it a point to go to every movie she can find that features a secretary. She tunes in on every television program where there is a secretary playing a part. She studies the Hollywood concept of secretarial efficiency and then goes into the office and tries to act that part. It’s a case of a poor actress trying to take the part of a good actress who in turn is trying to follow the concept of a Hollywood director as to what a good secretary should be like. I got good and tired of it. I...”

Della Street returned from the switchboard, said, “Miss Falkner says to come right over.”

“Come on,” Mason said, “let’s go.”