Case of the Silent Partner

Chapter 1

Mildreth Faulkner, seated at her desk in the glass-enclosed office of the Faulkner Flower Shops, selected a blue crayon of exactly the light shade. Clever at sketching, she use d crayons to help her visualize just how flower groupings would appear. Now, with a rough sketch of the Ellsworth dining room at her left, she was trying to get something that would go nicely with the dull green candles Mrs. Ellsworth intended to use for illumination.

Someone tapped on the glass, and she looked up to see Harry Peavis.

She pushed her sketches to one side and nodded for him to come in.

Peavis accepted the invitation as he did everything else, without any outward indication of what his thoughts might be, without any change in pace. A big-boned man of hard muscle, his shoulders and hands showed the effects of hard toil on a farm in his early youth. Now that he had achieved wealth and a virtual monopoly on the city’s retail flower business, he went to great pains to fit into the rôle of successful businessman. His suits were well tailored, and his nails carefully manicured and polished, striking a note of incongruity with the labor-twisted fingers.

“Workin’ kinda late?” he asked Mildreth.

She smiled. “I nearly always work late. If it isn’t one thing, it’s another. Reports on the payroll, income tax, estimates, and a hundred things. Anyhow, it’s only seven o’clock.”

“You’ve been having it pretty hard since your sister’s heart went bad, haven’t you?”

“Oh, I’m getting along all right.”

“How is she?”

“Carlotta?”

“Yes.”

“She’s a lot better.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“She’s still in bed most of the time, but she’s improving every day.”

“You have three stores, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing that he was thoroughly familiar, not only with the stores and their locations but generally with the amount of business they did.

“Uh huh,” Peavis said. “Well, I sort of thought it might be a good plan to invest a little money with you girls.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some stock in your corporation.”

Mildreth Faulkner smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, Mr. Peavis, but we’re getting along all right. This is a very small, very close corporation.”

“Perhaps it ain’t as close as you think it is.”

“Close enough,” she smiled. “Carlotta and I have all of the stock between us.”

His grayish-green eyes twinkled out at her from under shaggy brows. “You’ll have to think again.”

She frowned for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, that’s right. There’s a certificate of five shares which was given Corinne Dell when we incorporated — we needed three on the board of directors. That stock was just to qualify her as a director.”

“Uh huh,” Peavis said, pulling a folded stock certificate from his pocket. “Well, Corinne Dell married one of my men, you know, and — well, I took over the stock. You can transfer this certificate on the books, and issue me a new one.”

Mildreth Faulkner frowned as she turned the certificate over in her hands.

“Reckon you’ll find it all in order,” Peavis said, “endorsement all okay an’ everything.”

She put the stock certificate down on the desk, looked up at him frankly. “Look here, Mr. Peavis, I don’t like this. It isn’t fair. I don’t know just what you have in mind. You’re a competitor. We don’t want you snooping in our business. Corinne shouldn’t have sold that stock. I suppose she couldn’t very well have helped herself under the circumstances, but I just want you to know where we stand.”

Peavis said, “I know — business is business. You overlooked a bet on that stock, and I didn’t. I like you. I want you to like me. But any time you make a business mistake an’ I can cash in on it, I aim to do it. That’s business. You know we could work out a deal on the rest of that stock. You could stay on here and manage the business. I’d take fifty-one per cent and...”

She shook her head.

“You could make just as much money as you’re doing now,” he said, “and have unlimited capital back of you for expansion. I’d make a good partner.”

“No, thank you. We’re doing fine as it is.”

“Well, just enter the stock transfer of those five shares.”

“Just what are you trying to do?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said, with a guilelessness which was patently assumed. “I won’t interfere with your work. I’ll be sort of a silent partner. Go ahead and make a lot of money. Now that I have an interest, I like to see the executives workin’ late.”

He chuckled and raised his gaunt frame from the chair. Mildreth, watching him lumber down the aisle of the flower shop, knew that his keen eyes, under those shaggy brows, missed no detail.

For some minutes she sat in deep thought, then, putting away her sketches, said to Lois Carling, who was on duty at the front of the shop, “Close up at nine-thirty, Lois. I won’t be back.”

She paused for a moment to survey herself in the full-length mirror near the front of the store. At thirty-two, she had the figure of twenty-two, and the experience acquired through seven years of building up a remunerative business had made her alert mentally and physically, given her a certain aura of dynamic efficiency which kept her muscles hard, firm, and free of excess flesh. Only a worker could have had her alert efficiency and trim lines.

Lois Carling watched her out of the door, her eyes somewhat bitter and slightly wistful. Lois Carling represented dynamic youth, the explosive forces of new wine. Mildreth Faulkner had the mature individuality of a vintage wine. It was, perhaps, only natural that Lois Carling, possessed only of beauty, impatient of the “slow-but-sure” recipe for success, should ask herself the question, “What’s she got that I haven’t?” — only Lois asked it not as a query which carried its own answer, but as a groping attempt to define personality. But because matters philosophical were far removed from Lois Carling’s mental environment, she opened a drawer in the counter, took out a box of candy which had been slipped her by Harry Peavis as he came in, and bit into a chocolate.

There was a telephone booth in the front of the garage where Mildreth Faulkner kept her car. While she was waiting for an attendant to bring it down, she acted on an impulse, and looked up the number of Perry Mason the lawyer.

There was an office number, and below it a notation, “After office hours, call Glenwood 6-8345.”

Mildreth Faulkner dialed the number, found that it was a telephone service which made a specialty of handling and sorting telephone calls for professional men. She explained that she wished to make an appointment with Mr. Mason on a matter of important business, and asked if it would be possible to see him that evening. The woman who was taking the call asked Mildreth for the number of the phone from which she was calling, told her to hang up, and she’d be called back within a couple of minutes.

Mildreth saw the attendant bringing her car up, opened the door of the telephone booth to motion him that she would be out in a minute. He nodded, swung the car off to the left by the gasoline pumps, and Mildreth stepped back into the booth just as the phone rang. She picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.”

“Is this Miss Faulkner?”

“Yes.”

“This is Della Street, Miss Faulkner, Mr. Mason’s secretary. Could you tell me something of the nature of your business?”

“Yes. I have the Faulkner Flower Shops. It’s a corporation. I have a business competitor who’s managed to buy a few shares of stock, the only ones not controlled by my family. I think he’s going to make trouble. I want to know what to do about it.”

“Won’t an appointment tomorrow be all right?”

“I presume so. I — well, to tell you the truth, I acted on impulse in calling just now. I’ve been worried ever since I learned about the transaction a few minutes ago.”

“Will ten-thirty tomorrow morning be convenient?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Mr. Mason will see you then. Good night.”

“Good night,” Mildreth Faulkner said, and, feeling somewhat relieved, got into her car, and drove at once to Carlotta’s house out on Chervis Road.

Chervis Road wound around the contours near the summit of the mountains which looked down on Hollywood from the north. Carlotta and Bob lived in a stucco hillside house which gleamed white by day, but now appeared as a grayish oblong of mysterious shadows, silhouetted against the twinkling cluster of city lights which lay far below.

Mildreth inserted her latchkey, clicked back the lock, and entered the living room where Bob Lawley was sprawled out in a chair reading a newspaper. A small, leather-backed memorandum book was in his left hand. A pencil was behind his right ear. He looked up, frowning at the interruption, then, as he saw Mildreth, managed a smile of welcome. She noticed that he hastily shoved the notebook into the side pocket of his coat. “Hello, Millie. I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“Where’s Carla?”

“Upstairs.”

“Asleep?”

“No. She’s lying there reading.”

“I’ll go up for a few minutes,” Mildreth said. “You aren’t going out, are you, Bob?”

“No. Gosh, no. What gave you that idea?”

“I want to see you.”

“Okay.”

She paused in the doorway, turned, and said, “When you’re figuring the race horses, Bob, don’t think you have to fall all over yourself putting things out of sight just because I happen to walk in unannounced.”

For a moment he flushed, then laughed, and said, somewhat sheepishly, “You startled me, that’s all.”

Mildreth climbed the stairs to where her sister lay in bed. Pillows propped against her back elevated her shoulders to a comfortable position. A rose-shaded reading lamp was fastened to the head of the bed, threw light over her left shoulder to the pages of the book she was reading.

She turned the shade of the light down so that the room was filled with a soft, rosy glow, and said, “I’d about given you up, Millie.”

“I was detained. How’s everything today?”

“Getting better day by day, in every way,” Carlotta said with a smile.

She was older than Mildreth, and her flesh had a bluish-white appearance. While she wasn’t fat, the tissues seemed soft and flaccid.

“How’s the heart?”

“Fine. The doctor said today that I can drive my car within a couple of weeks. It certainly will seem good to get out. I’ll bet my little coupe has forgotten how to run.”

“Don’t be in a hurry,” Mildreth cautioned. “Take it easy, particularly when you start moving around.”

“That’s what the doctor said.”

“What’s the book?”

“One of the new ones that’s supposed to have a deep social significance. I can’t see it.”

“Why not try something lighter?”

“No. I like these. The other stories get me excited, and I have difficulty sleeping. Another ten pages of this, and I’ll drop off to sleep without having to take a hypnotic.”

Mildreth laughed, a low, rippling laugh. “Well, I’m sorry I was late. I just ran in to see how you were getting along. I’ll run down and talk to Bob for a little while and be on my way.”

“Poor Bob,” Carlotta said softly. “I’m afraid it’s been pretty hard for him, having an invalid for a wife. He’s been just simply splendid, Millie.”

“That’s fine.”

“You don’t... you never have really warmed up to Bob, have you, Millie?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Let’s not talk about that now. We’ll get along all right.”

Carlotta’s eyes were wistful. “He feels it, Millie. I wish you’d try and get better acquainted with him.”

“I will,” Millie promised, her lips smiling but her eyes purposeful. “I’ll go down and begin right now. You take it easy, Carla, and be sure not to overdo as you start getting better.”

Carlotta watched Mildreth through the door. “It must be splendid to be so vibrantly healthy. I wish you could give me some of your health for about an hour.”

“I wish I could give it to you for longer than that, Carla, but you’ll be all right now. You’re over the worst of it.”

“I think so. I know I’m lots better now than I was.”

Carlotta picked up her book. Mildreth gently closed the door and walked quietly down the stairs.

Bob Lawley folded the newspaper. The pencil was no longer behind his ear. “Drink, Millie?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” She sat down in the chair opposite him, accepted one of his cigarettes, leaned forward for his match, sat back, and looked at him steadily. “Don’t you think it might be a good plan if we all three sat down and had a business chat?”

“Not yet, Millie.”

“Why?”

“Carla shouldn’t be bothered with business right now. I’ve talked with the doctor about it, and he says she’s doing fine, but it’s largely because she’s accustomed herself to washing her hands of business. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Harry Peavis was in tonight.”

“That big clod! What does he want?”

“He wants to buy the business — a controlling interest in it.”

“He would. Tell him to go peddle his papers.”

“I did, but it seems he’s a stockholder now.”

“A stockholder!” Bob exclaimed, and she saw swift alarm on his face. “Why, how the devil could he...” He hastily averted his eyes.

“Corinne Dell. You remember she married a man who works for Peavis. I suppose her husband got her to turn over the stock. I should have picked up that stock before she left. To tell you the truth, I’d entirely forgotten about it. It’s such a small block and...”

Bob seemed positively relieved. He laughed. “What can he do with that? It’s only five shares. That’s a drop in the bucket. Tell him to go to hell — put on assessments and freeze him out.”

She shook her head. “Harry Peavis won’t be pushed around. He wants something... I’m just a little afraid of him. He may be entitled to look over our books. Perhaps that’s what he wants. I don’t know. I’m going to see a lawyer in the morning.”

“Good idea. Whom are you going to see?”

“Perry Mason.”

“He doesn’t handle that stuff. It takes a murder case to get him even interested.”

She said, “If he gets enough for it, he’ll be interested. This needs someone who can do more than just look in a law book and tell you what the law is. It needs a lot of legal ingenuity.”

“Well, he’s the bird to handle Peavis all right if you can get him to handle it,” Bob Lawley admitted, “but you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“I thought it would be a good plan to take up all of the stock certificates and the stock book. He’ll want to see them.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Bob said hastily.

“Well, he might ask for them.”

Bob’s voice was harsh with nervous impatience. “Gosh, Millie, I’ve got an important appointment in the morning and that stock’s in the safety deposit box. Tell you what you do. If he wants to see the stock, I can take it in to him later on. I don’t think he’ll want to. I have an appointment with an insurance company adjuster in the morning — confounded nuisance. I could cancel it, of course, if I had to, but I’ve had a lot of trouble getting him on the job.”

“What was the accident, Bob? You never did tell me anything about it. I learned of it from Carla.”

“Oh, just one of those cases of where some guy comes down the street, crocked to the eyebrows. I wasn’t even in the car. I had it parked at the curb. I don’t know how in the world he managed to smash it up the way he did. He must have skidded into it from the side.”

“Did you get his number?”

“No. I tell you I wasn’t there. The car was parked. A couple of people who saw it told me about it, but they were too dumb to get his license number.”

Mildreth said, “Well, I guess I’m not really going to need the stock, although I’d like to have it. Couldn’t you get down to the safety deposit box, Bob, and...”

“Absolutely not, Millie. I’ve got two or three appointments in the morning. I just can’t cancel them now, but if he needs the stock, I’ll bring it in later. You can get in touch with me. You don’t need to have it there when you’re talking with him. Don’t be silly! Next week would be okay.”

“Well, I guess it’s all right,” she said, and there was a note of weary dejection in her voice.

“You’re working too hard, Millie. Can’t you take it a little easier?”

“Oh, I’m all right. Business is pretty good, and there’s quite a bit of detail work... Well, I’ll run along, Bob.”

“Leave a message for me if you want that stock,” he said. “I could pick it up day after tomorrow — but I can’t imagine why he’d want to see the certificate.”

“Look, Bob, can’t you get into that box and...”

“Lord, no!” he interrupted, raising his voice. “You’re getting to be an old woman. Stop that damned worrying.”

“Bob... the stock’s there, isn’t it? It’s all right? You...”

He got up out of the chair. “For Christ’s sake, quit nagging! Don’t I have enough on my mind without you running around yapping about your damned stock? I know you don’t like me. You never did. You broke your fool neck trying to poison Carla’s mind against me. Now...”

“Stop it!” she interrupted. “You’re like a schoolboy... And you’re shouting. You don’t want Carla to think we’re quarreling, do you?”

He sat down wearily. “Oh, hell, what’s the use?... If Mason wants to see that stock, tell him to ring me up. You give me the willies. If you don’t want to quarrel, get the hell out of here.”

She stalked wordlessly into the door, out into the evening.

Gliding along Chervis Road, Mildreth Faulkner was entirely oblivious to the charm of the clear, star-lit night. Why had Bob been so glib with detailed explanations of that automobile accident? Why was it so important to meet the insurance adjuster? Why had he had so much trouble getting him on the job? Why did the idea of producing that stock throw him in such a panic? She had been tactless about it. She didn’t trust him. For weeks now she’d been trying to find some legitimate excuse for getting that stock certificate out of his hands. Carla had endorsed all her securities, turned them over to Bob... Of course it was absurd to doubt his loyalty to Carla, yet she couldn’t help being uneasy, and that story about the accident, with the front of the car smashed in.

“I suppose I’m an awful heel,” Mildreth said to herself, “but unfortunately I know my brother-in-law altogether too well.”

So she drove to the Traffic Department at police headquarters, made inquiries as to whether there had been any report on the accident, found that Bob’s Buick sedan had been in a collision with another car, that Bob had been in the wrong.

A telephone call to the man who had been driving the other car elicited the information that Bob had not been alone in the Buick at the time of the accident. A blond young woman, rather attractive, had been in the front seat with him. The man had taken her name as a witness. Just a minute, and he’d... Here it was. Esther Dilmeyer. The address she’d given him was the Golden Horn nightclub. He believed she’d said she worked there, but he couldn’t be certain. The man who was driving the car — Mr. Lawley — had been very nice. The accident was all his fault, and he was going to settle. There’d been another man in the back. No, the settlement hadn’t been made yet, but Mr. Lawley was to call at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Would you mind telling me who you are, Ma’am?

She said, quickly, “I’m with the Workman’s Compensation Fund. We understood Miss Dilmeyer was injured.”

Her informant said, “I was the only one that was hurt. I got shaken up pretty badly. There was another man in the car with Lawley. You could use him as a witness if you had to. His name was... wait a minute. Here it is. Sindler Coll.”

“Had they been drinking?” Mildreth asked.

“No, but they were going plenty fast.”

Mildreth said, “Thank you,” and hung up.

Why did Bob go to such elaborate means to mystify everyone concerning the traffic accident? The car was insured, and the insurance company would take charge... But the insurance company quite obviously hadn’t. Bob was meeting the other party at eleven o’clock in the morning to make an adjustment. Apparently, the insurance company knew nothing whatever about the accident.

Mildreth Faulkner wanted to get back to that floral design, but right now she felt something else was more important.

Evidently Bob had no intention of explaining the presence of the nightclub hostess in his car.