Case of the Beautiful Beggar

Chapter 7

The Goodwill Sanitarium and Rest Home at El Mirar was apparently the combination of a reconverted motel and a large old fashioned three-story dwelling on an adjoining lot.

The properties had been united, a board fence put around the property, and on the windows of the motel units as well as on the windows on the lower floor of the big building were unobtrusive iron work — either ornamental grillwork or straight rectangular bars.

Perry Mason sized up the property, then made no effort to be surreptitious but walked through the gate, up the wide driveway and through the front door where a sign said OFFICE.

The lawyer noticed a sign on the gate reading, “Wanted Young, well-adjusted woman with agreeable personality for general work.” There was a similar sign in a frame on the side of the office door. Since these signs had been hand lettered by a professional, it was apparent that the institution had quite a turnover in domestic help and experienced considerable trouble in getting replacements.

Mason entered the office.

There was a long counter across the room dividing it into two parts. Behind this counter was a switchboard and a chair to one side, a desk littered with papers, a tilting swivel chair, two straight-backed swivel chairs and a shelf of square cubbyholes, with room numbers over each partition.

A light was on at the switchboard and there was the customary loud buzzing sound indicating an incoming call.

Mason walked to the counter.

A middle-aged woman came hurrying through a door which opened from the back of the office. She hardly looked at Mason but went to the switchboard, picked up the headset and said, “Yes, Hello. This is the Goodwill Sanitarium.”

She listened for a minute, then said, “Well, he isn’t in now. I’ve left word with his secretary. He’ll call as soon as he gets back... No, I don’t know just when he’ll be back... Yes, I hope so. Yes, sometime today... Yes, he’ll call you, Doctor. As soon as he gets back, he’ll call... Goodbye.”

She pulled out the plug, turned wearily and somewhat truculently to the counter.

“What can I do for you?” she asked Mason.

“You have a Horace Shelby here,” Mason said.

Instantly, the woman stiffened. Her eyes grew wary.

“What about it?” she asked.

“I want to see him,” Mason said.

“You a relative?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“You representing him?”

“I’m representing a relative.”

“It’s past visiting hours today,” she said.

“But it’s rather important that I see him,” Mason said.

She shook her head firmly. “You have to come during visiting hours.”

“And when are they?”

“Two to three in the afternoon.”

“You mean I can’t see him until tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’m not certain you can see him then. You’re going to have to talk to Doctor. He’s been having a little trouble. There’s been a ‘No Visitors’ sign on his door... What did you say your name was?”

“Mason. Perry Mason.”

“I’ll tell Doctor you called.”

“Doctor who?” Mason asked.

“Doctor Baxter,” she said. “Tillman Baxter. He runs the place.”

“He’s a medical doctor?” Mason asked.

“He has a license to run the place,” she said. “That’s all I know and I don’t think it’s going to do you any good to come back. I don’t think Horace Shelby is going to be in any condition to receive visitors.”

She abruptly turned her back on him and walked through the door leading from the office into the back room.

Mason turned away, made a quick survey of the place, and walked back to where he had parked his car.

A man was standing by the car. “You’re the Court appointed doctor?” the man asked.

Mason regarded the man thoughtfully. “What Court-appointed doctor?” he asked.

“The Shelby case.”

“Why?” Mason asked.

“I want to talk with you,” the man said.

“May I ask what about?”

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you the Court-appointed doctor?”

“No,” Mason said. “I’m Perry Mason, an attorney. Now, why did you want to talk with the—”

The man didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, but walked rapidly to a car which was parked ahead of Mason’s, jumped in, said something to the driver of the car, and the car took off down the street.

Mason tried to make out the license number but the car had been parked too far ahead. He could see that it was a Nevada license and that was all.

The lawyer pretended to return to the sanitarium, but doubled back and, pulling the key for his own car from his pocket, hurried around to the street side to jump in behind the wheel. He started the motor and drove rapidly down the street.

He didn’t see the car with the Nevada license plates. It had evidently turned off on one of the side streets.

The lawyer drove around several blocks trying to spot the car so he could get the license number but was unable to find it.

He drove back to his office.

“There’s a call from Dr. Alma,” Della Street told him.

“He says he’ll talk with you any time that you come in. I told him I expected you shortly.”

Mason nodded.

“Gertie’s closed up the office and gone home,” Della Street said. “I’ll put the call through,”

Her fingers were a blur of motion over the dial on the telephone and she said, “Dr. Alma, please. Mr. Mason calling.”

She nodded to Perry Mason.

Mason picked up the telephone. “Hello,” he said, “Perry Mason talking.”

“Dr. Grantland Alma, Mason. You wanted to talk with me?”

“Yes. I understand you’ve been appointed by Judge Ballinger to talk with Horace Shelby and make an appraisal of his physical and mental condition.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you expect to see Horace Shelby soon?”

“I can’t see him before tomorrow morning,” Dr. Alma said, “but I have told the sanitarium I’ll be there at ten o’clock in the morning.”

“Is it wise to let them know exactly when you’ll be there?” Mason asked.

“I think so,” Dr. Alma said, “because I’ve told them that I want him to have no sedation after eight o’clock tonight that I want a complete chart showing every bit of medication that has been given and that I don’t want anyone from the sanitarium present when I examine him, that I’ll have my own nurse with me.”

Mason grinned and said, “Thank you, Doctor. I can see why the Court decided to appoint you as the examining physician... I just wanted to ask you if ample precautions would be taken to see that the patient had a fair chance.”

Dr. Alma said, “I know what you’re thinking. I may also tell you that there are certain sedatives which, when given intravenously, put a patient into a deep sleep, but in some cases the individual becomes disoriented and a little erratic for several days. There are also other drugs which, when given to a person who has arteriosclerosis, can cause quite a bit of mental impairment.”

“Can you test for those drugs?”

“Yes and no. I can make a blood test which will be of some help if I think they have been administered, but I can pretty well tell whether a person is his normal self or whether he is recuperating from the influence of drugs.

“I know all about you and your reputation Mr. Mason. I understand you’re representing the niece or the young woman who thought she was the niece — in any event, the young woman who’s been taking care of the patient and who has been devoted to him. I can also tell you in confidence that the sanitarium gave me an argument when I said I didn’t want any medication after eight tonight. They told me the patient was restless, highly irritable, unable to sleep, and that he would have to be given heavy sedation.

“I asked what they meant by heavy sedation and we had an argument over that. I finally gave them a limit of a sleeping medicine that could be given the patient tonight.

“I don’t mind telling you. Mr. Mason, that I’m going to check this thing carefully. That’s what I was told to do and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Thanks a lot,” Mason said. “I just wanted to find out what you had in mind.”

“And I think I know what you have in mind.” Dr. Alma said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, Mason, I’m going to be fair but I’m going to be very, very thorough.”

“Thanks a lot,” Mason said. “And I certainly appreciate your cooperation.”

The lawyer hung up and said to Della Street, “I guess there’s no reason we can’t close the office and go home. I think everything is taken care of. Dr. Alma knows what he’s doing. He evidently knows all of the angles. Daphne is out of circulation. The sanitarium is on the defensive and I wouldn’t be too surprised if tomorrow wasn’t a day with plenty of action, as far as the sanitarium is concerned.”

“How did it impress you?” she asked.

Mason made a gesture with his hand. “It’s one of those things,” he said. “I think the man they call ‘Doctor’ who is in charge of it, is not a licensed physician although he probably has a license to run a nursing home.

“Some of those places are all right some of them aren’t. In fact, in some of them — heaven help the poor guy who gets put in there! All too frequently, relatives don’t want to be bothered with an old man who is getting a little forgetful and a little unsanitary in his habits, so they bundle him off to a nursing home, wash their hands of him, and practically forget about him.

“The nursing home doesn’t care just as long as they get a regular monthly check.

“Then there are some of those nursing homes which are pretty foxy. They know when the old man is supposed to be incompetent and when they know the patient hates them but the person who has been appointed guardian or conservator of the estate is making the check every month, it doesn’t take long for them to decide which side of the bread has the butter.”

“And you think this sanitarium is one of those places?”

Mason said, “I wouldn’t be the least surprised, Della. However, I think things are working all right now. Let’s call it a day and go home.”