Case of the Silent Partner

Chapter 2

An expression of bitter disillusion on Esther Dilmeyer’s features made her seem suddenly old.

All about her was the gaiety of the nightclub, a forced, hectic hilarity which needed the constant flow of alcohol to keep it at the high level which would declare dividends for the management.

The orchestra ground out melodies with swinging rhythm. A master of ceremonies radiated synthetic enthusiasm as he announced the numbers of a floorshow through a microphone. Waiters, moving back and forth among the tables, carefully followed instructions that food must not be brought too soon after cocktails. Those who had drunk too much were being served watered drinks; those who seemed “sourpuss” were having a special visit from the head waiter with the virtues of the wine list extolled.

For those who were properly vouched for, there was a more quiet but sinister activity in the thickly carpeted suite of rooms above the nightclub.

The management was extremely careful about the list of patrons who were permitted to pass through the door marked PRIVATE in the rear of the hat-check room, climb the flight of stairs to the rooms where the whir of the roulette wheel mingled with the hum of well-modulated conversation.

On the lower floor the management encouraged laughter and drinking. On the upper floor, all this was changed. The management let it be known that it much preferred to have the patrons of the tables in formal evening attire. Everywhere the subtle suggestion of quiet refinement was impressed upon those who wooed the Goddess of Fortune. Thick carpets muffled the sound of footfalls. Heavy drapes, subdued indirect lighting, and a drawing-room atmosphere of sumptuous richness encouraged well-bred quiet.

A man who has lost more than he can afford in a place where alcoholic beverages flow freely and there is boisterous excitement, is quite apt to make what is known, in the parlance of the game, as a “beef.” A man who feels just a little out of his element, who is forced to don formal attire, who is surrounded by external evidences of wealth, will be inclined to accept his losses with dignity and make a quiet exit. Not until he has divested himself of his formal attire, and seen his environment in the pitiless glare of daylight, will remorse and self-condemnation make him realize that a loss is a loss. Then he is quite apt to realize that taking losses “like a gentleman” is a racket fostered by those who profit — but by then it is too late.

Esther Dilmeyer didn’t understand the full significance of the psychology, but she knew enough to realize that when she was called on to perform in the nightclub as a part of the floorshow or to pinch-hit for some entertainer who hadn’t shown up, she was expected to sway her body in syncopated rhythm, to make a direct personal appeal to the audience, get them out of themselves and “in the mood.”

On those occasions when she moved among the tables on the upper floor, she comported herself in the dignified manner of a lady. Here there was no loud laughter, no swaying of the shoulders, no swinging of the hips.

As a rule, women regarded Esther Dilmeyer with cool suspicion. Men could always be counted on to give her a second look, to make a play for her whenever she gave them the least encouragement. Esther understood men with the familiarity which engendered contempt. She realized that she knew women hardly at all.

Esther Dilmeyer, her thoughts carefully masked, sat at a table alone, toying with a glass which contained ginger ale and charged water, designed to make it appear to the uninitiated as a champagne cocktail. Habit twisted her lips into a mechanical half smile. At sharp variance with the implied invitation of her attractive appearance was her mood of black depression.

How many hours had she sat like this waiting for suckers? Always it was the same story. Men would drift past. Those who were with their wives would look at her enviously, make a mental resolution to come back some other night when they were alone. Men who were unescorted would try any one of the five standard brands of pick-up technique which Esther had learned to know and to classify just as a chess player can tell what opening his opponent is going to use as soon as the first pawn is advanced on the board.

Well, she thought, it served her right. She could have made something of her life. Instead, she’d dropped into this, capitalizing on her appearance, on her youth. Men fell for her. She let them buy her drinks. If they were interested only in pawing, she would casually look at her watch, mention that her husband would join her in ten or fifteen minutes; or tip a wink to one of the waiters, and be summoned to the telephone, returning after a few minutes with the same message.

If the men had money to spend, she encouraged them to spend it, and if they seemed to be just the proper type, she would make tentative references to the activities which went on upstairs. If the man still seemed interested, she arranged for a card and would escort him up to the roulette table.

The croupiers could place a man in the first few plays; the plunger, the cautious man, the tightwad, the seasoned gambler, and, occasionally, best of all, the man who hated to lose, who would figure that the game owed him money after the few losses.

There was a code system of signals between Esther Dilmeyer and the croupier. If the sheep had lots of wool to be cut, she stayed around and supervised the shearing. Otherwise, she would drift back to the nightclub, looking for more prospects.

She looked up as Mildreth Faulkner approached her table.

Mildreth met her eyes and smiled.

Esther Dilmeyer braced herself. Did this have to come now on top of everything else? Probably some woman whose husband had broken down and told about meeting the blonde at the nightclub, the visit upstairs to the gambling place, the resulting loss of money. She hated men like that, men who were eager for adventure, then ran whimpering home, who confessed with a great show of repentance, shed crocodile tears, berated themselves — and who promptly repeated the experience at the first available opportunity.

Mildreth pulled out a chair and sat down. “Hello,” she said.

One of the waiters hovered cautiously in the distance, waiting for a signal from Esther Dilmeyer. The place didn’t encourage scenes.

“Good evening,” Esther Dilmeyer said with chilling formality.

Mildreth sighed. “I saw you sitting here alone,” she said, “and I’m alone. What’s more, I’m lonely, and I’m completely, absolutely, and entirely washed up with men. I sat down and tried a cocktail, and three men smirked at me before I’d finished. How about letting me buy you a drink, and then I’ll go?”

Esther Dilmeyer felt a surge of relief. It wasn’t a beef then after all. She beckoned to the waiter.

“Another champagne cocktail?” Mildreth asked.

The blonde nodded.

“Make it two,” Mildreth said.

“Take this one away,” Esther told the waiter. “It’s stale,” and with a laugh at Mildreth, “I was brooding too much to drink, I guess.”

It was a situation which called for a little tact. Esther couldn’t make any profitable connections sitting there with Mildreth Faulkner at her table. On the other hand, there was no harm in letting Mildreth buy one drink.

Esther looked at her watch. “My boy friend,” she said, “is late.”

“Oh, you have a date. I should have known it. Well, I won’t detain you.”

“It’s all right. Sit down. We’ve loads of time for that drink. He keeps me waiting lots of times... damn him!”

Mildreth said, “Haven’t I met you somewhere before? Your face is familiar.”

Esther Dilmeyer shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember you.”

“I saw you somewhere... Oh, wait a minute. Weren’t you in an automobile accident, a Buick sedan? Yes, you were. I remember now. I remember seeing you in the car.”

“Did you see that smash?”

“Yes. I was walking along the street. If your boy friend was the one who was driving that car, he’s worth waiting for.”

“Him?” Esther Dilmeyer asked contemptuously. “He’s good looking, but he’s a sap. The other one was my boy friend. His name’s Sindler. He certainly is good looking, and he knows it, damn him. What do you do, or is it any of my business?”

“Oh, I have a little business of my own, running some stores. I have three of them.”

Esther Dilmeyer said wistfully, “God, it must be nice to be in business for yourself and be independent. If I’d started in working and got some real business experience, I might have had something to look forward to instead of this racket.”

“Racket?” Mildreth asked.

“I’m a hostess.”

“Oh, I see.”

“No, you don’t. You couldn’t unless you’d tried it. It’s a lousy business.”

“Why don’t you leave it and get into something else?”

“How can I? I don’t know shorthand or typing, haven’t any business experience, and am damned if I’ll go out and scrub floors and do housework for some woman who wants to keep her hands pretty so she can waste the afternoon playing bridge.”

“There are lots of jobs open to a woman who has a pleasing personality and good looks.”

“Yeah, I know. You see the want ads in the paper every once in a while. I followed up a couple of those leads. That’s a worse racket than this.”

Mildreth studied her and noticed the bitterness, the first faint lines about the eyes and lips. “I didn’t mean that,” she said. “There are jobs that are on the square. I hire girls every once in a while, girls who are attractive, pleasing, are able to keep their tempers, and know how to handle the public.”

There was sudden hope in Esther Dilmeyer’s eyes as she looked up at the woman across the table, then the hope faded. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “Some people buy tickets on the sweepstakes and get their pictures in the paper. It happens every little while.”

“That’s a beautiful gown you have,” Mildreth said.

“Like it?”

“Very much.”

“It isn’t so expensive. When you’re in this game, you have to keep looking well, but you don’t have a fortune to throw away on clothes. After a while, you learn how to shop.”

“An orchid corsage would go wonderfully well with that color.”

“Yes, probably it would. However, people don’t send me corsages very often, and I’m not buying any orchids.”

“I’ve got some I’m going to send over for you,” Mildreth said.

“You have?”

“Yes. Some orchids I ordered for a customer who came down with the flu and couldn’t use them. Are you going to be here for a while? If you are, I’ll send them up.”

“That’d be swell. Thanks a million... You’re sure it wouldn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. I’ll be glad to. What name do I put on them?”

“Esther.”

“Simply Esther?”

“They know me here. Well, you could make it Esther Dilmeyer. What’s your name?”

“Mildreth.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.”

The waiter brought their drinks. “Here’s luck,” Mildreth said over the rim of the glass.

“I’m going to need it.”

Abruptly Mildreth said, “How badly do you want to get out of here, Esther?”

“You mean out of this racket?”

“Yes.”

“Plenty bad. Oh, I’ll give you the low-down. I’ve played it for what it was worth. I’ve been at it five years. I sit up nearly all night, drinking too much, smoking too much, and not getting enough fresh air. I’m beginning to show it. That’s when it hurts.”

Mildreth nodded.

“You look at other people and you can see that they are showing signs of age, but you just don’t think that could ever happen to you. Then, all of a sudden, the boy friend throws you over for someone a little younger... Nuts! I’d chuck this racket in a minute if I could get a decent opportunity.”

“You seem pretty bitter about it.”

Esther Dilmeyer sipped her cocktail. “Know why?”

“No.”

“My boy friend, the one you saw me riding with in the car, is friendly with the boss. Lately, he’s picked up someone else. He tried to keep me from finding out about it, but I finally took a tumble just this afternoon. He’s trying to get this new girl into my job, and ease me out of the picture.

“They think I don’t know about it. I’m sitting here working while they’re going around behind my back. Sindler Coll’s out with her right now. Harvey Lynk, one of the men who runs the place, has gone out to a little cabin he has in Lilac Canyon. By one or two o’clock in the morning, it’ll all be fixed up. Can you blame me for feeling bitter?”

Mildreth Faulkner shook her head.

“Show me a chance to make an honest living so that I can beat ’em to the punch, and I’d walk out of here so fast it would make your head swim,” Esther said vehemently.

“How would you like to work in a flower shop?”

“Gosh, that would be swell. Is that what you do?”

“Yes. I run the Faulkner Flower Shops.”

Esther Dilmeyer had been raising her glass to her lips. She lowered it again to the table. “Then you’re — you’re Bob’s sister-in-law. You knew him all the time... that accident.”

Mildreth met her eyes and said, “Yes. I came here to try and find out something about what was going on. I intended to try and pump you, but after I saw you, I realized that you weren’t an enemy of mine — just a woman trying to get along in the world.”

“Then you were stringing me along about that offer?”

“Don’t be silly, Esther.”

“How do I know it isn’t just a scheme to try and pump me?”

“Because, you goose, I told you my name. Otherwise, I’d have handed you a line and tried to get what I could.”

Esther Dilmeyer fumbled with a cigarette.

“Yes,” she admitted, “that’s right.”

“Do you want to work for me?”

“What do I have to do in order to get the job?”

“Just give the business the best that’s in you, try and get along with the customers, build up good will and...”

“No, I mean how much do I have to tell you?”

“Not a thing unless you want to.”

Esther Dilmeyer thought that over for a few seconds, then said, “No, that wouldn’t work. I’ve been mixed up in giving you a double cross. I could never work for you unless I told you the whole thing and you said it was all right after you knew what had happened.”

“Do you want to do that?”

“I’m not particularly crazy about doing it, but it’s the only way I could ever go to work for you.”

“Well, if you want to do it, you can have the job. You can have it without that.”

“No. I’d come clean.”

“Do you know where Lynk is right now?” Mildreth asked abruptly.

“Yes, at his cabin waiting for that little trollop to...”

“But do you know where the cabin is?”

“Sure,” she said, and laughed bitterly. “I’ve been there. All of the girls who worked here went there.”

Mildreth said, “I have to go telephone. While I’m gone, make a note of the address of the cabin and give it to me, will you?”

Esther nodded.

Mildreth went over to the telephone booth and once more put in a call for Mason’s night number.

“I think you can get him at his office if you call right now,” she was advised. “He said he was going to be there for a couple of hours, and that was only about an hour ago.”

Mildreth dialed Mason’s office, heard Della Street’s voice on the other end of the line. “This is Miss Faulkner again, Miss Street. I’m in a very precarious position. I have to see Mr. Mason tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Mr. Mason is working on an important brief right now, and won’t finish the dictation until midnight. He simply can’t see anyone.”

“Could he see me after midnight?”

“I’m afraid not. He has to sleep, you know.”

“Listen, this is very important. I’m willing to pay any amount within reason. I’m afraid that tomorrow morning may be too late.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“I’ve just learned that my sister, who’s an invalid, has turned over all of her securities to her husband. Apparently he’s put those up as security on some gambling debts. Among these securities is a block of stock in the flower stores I operate. I’ll know a lot more about it by midnight, and... Oh, couldn’t you please persuade Mr. Mason...”

“Just a minute,” Della Street said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She came back on the line after a thirty-second interval. “Mr. Mason won’t finish dictating until around midnight, then he’ll go out for a cup of coffee. If you want to be here at one o’clock, he’ll meet you.”

“Thank you ever so much! Now listen, I’m working on a witness. Her name is Esther Dilmeyer. Please make a note of that. I’m going to try and get her to come in. If she does, please hold her there and be nice to her. She knows all the facts. I doubt if I can get anywhere without her.”

Della Street said, “I’ll have to bill you for this appointment whether you keep it or not. If you’ll give me your name and address...”

“Mildreth Faulkner. I run the Faulkner Flower Shops. My address is 819 Whiteley Pines Drive. I have a telephone. If you wish, I can send you some money before midnight.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Della Street said. “Mr. Mason will see you at one o’clock.”

Mildreth Faulkner hung up the telephone. Her face was resolute as she walked back to the table where Esther Dilmeyer slipped her a folded piece of paper.

She said, “What time do you get off work here, Esther?”

“Oh, I can leave any time after one o’clock.”

“I want you to do something.”

“What?”

“Go to the office of Perry Mason. He’s my lawyer.”

“When?”

“At one o’clock.”

“You mean Perry Mason, the lawyer who solved the Tidings murder case?”[1]

“That’s the one.”

“Gosh, he’s — he’s a big shot. I always said that if I ever committed a murder, I was going to hold up a bank at the same time and get enough money to have Mr. Mason get me off.” She laughed.

Mildreth said, “Then how about meeting me at Mr. Mason’s office at one o’clock?”

“He won’t be at his office then.”

“Yes, I’ve made an appointment.”

“Why do you want me there?”

“Because I want to get Bob Lawley out of my business. I’ll need our help to do that — and if you’re going to be working for me, you won’t need to mind what any of these people think.”

“Okay, I’ll do that little thing. Listen, it may be about five or ten minutes after one.”

“All right, and I’m going to send you some orchids.”

“Oh, don’t bother.”

“It isn’t any bother. I really do have some orchids that were left over on an order. They’d go fine with that dress, and I’m going to send them up.”

Esther Dilmeyer leaned toward Mildreth. “Listen,” she said, “if you talk with Lynk, watch your step. And don’t mention that I spilled anything. I swore I’d never rat, but you caught me when I was pretty low and that offer of a job — well, that’s one of the few times anyone ever offered to give me a break. How did you know about Lawley getting milked dry and about me?”

“I tried to get him to bring up some securities... Oh, well, never mind. Now you’ll have to forget all about this, Esther. You mustn’t ever mention to anyone that I was talking to you.”

“I’ll say. And don’t you let on to Lynk that I know he has the skids greased for me. I want him to think I’m walking out under my own power. He won’t want visitors tonight, either. You’ll have to watch your step with him. And as for Sindler Coll and that baby-faced little bitch he’s bringing in...”

She blinked her eyes again, then forced a laugh, and said, “Oh, well, what do I care?”

Mildreth looked at her watch. “You don’t. I’ll have to be moving now. I have lots to do between now and one o’clock. I want to see Lynk.”

“Watch Lynk,” Esther said. “He’s bad if you try to crowd him. He has a nasty temper. If he isn’t ready to talk turkey, don’t crowd him — and don’t threaten him with Perry Mason.”

Mildreth smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be tactful.”

Suddenly Esther called her back. “Listen, I want to play fair with you. When I work for anyone, I give them all I have, but...”

“Yes?” Mildreth prompted.

“Look, Lynk thinks he’s going to double-cross me on some private stuff, but I’m going to see that I don’t get gypped here.”

Mildreth said, “Fair enough, but let me return your own advice: Be careful and watch Lynk.”

Esther smiled. That smile changed her whole face. “Don’t think I don’t know how dangerous a game I’m playing — and don’t think Lynk won’t suspect me, but I’ve got a way around all that... Nuts! What do you care about my grief? See you at one o’clock — perhaps just a shade later.”