Case of the Silent Partner

Chapter 4

Perry Mason latchkeyed the door of his private office. Della Street was sitting over by a corner of the desk, Mason’s desk telephone pulled over close to her.

“Hello,” Mason said. “I’m about ten minutes late. Heard anything from our client?”

“No.”

Mason said, “I guess it was a stand-up after all. That cures me of night appointments at the office.”

“How is Esther Dilmeyer?” Della asked.

“She’s at the Hastings Memorial Hospital. I got hold of Dr. Willmont on the telephone. He’s rushing right out to meet her when she’s unloaded from the ambulance. Looks like some drug, but it’s too early to tell. Sometimes a drug which will induce sleep is given to cover the effects of some other poison. However, I’d say we got her in time, and she’ll pull through.”

“Did you,” she asked, “throw a scare into Magard?”

“I’ll say we did — that is, Lieutenant Tragg did.”

“He sounded thoroughly subdued.”

“Did he ring up?”

“Yes. He called, said that he understood you had been at the Golden Horn with an officer looking for information, said he’d given the officer the information he wanted, and inquired if there was anything else he could do for you.”

Mason chuckled. “What did you tell him?”

“I thanked him and told him it would be all right.”

Mason looked at his watch. “Well, I guess we’ll be on our way and charge this to experience... Wait a minute. Here’s someone coming.”

They could hear the rapid click-clack... click-clack... click-clack of heels in the corridor.

Mason opened the door.

Mildreth Faulkner said, “Thank you so much for waiting, Mr. Mason. I’m sorry I was late. I just couldn’t make it any sooner.”

Mason looked her over carefully, said, “Come in. Miss Faulkner, my secretary, Miss Street. This chair please. You’re breathless and excited. How about a cigarette?”

“No, thanks. I have to work fast, Mr. Mason.”

“What’s wrong?”

She said, “It’s a long story. I hardly know where to begin.”

“Well, begin right in the middle,” Mason said, “and keep moving.”

She laughed. “It’s this way: My sister Carlotta and I started the Faulkner Flower Shops. That was before Carla was married. We each had half of the stock except a small block of five shares which we gave to one of our employees to qualify her so there’d be three on the board of directors.

“Harry Peavis is a big competitor. He controls the bulk of the retail flower business here. I’ve always liked him. He’s rather naïve in some respects, but a shrewd businessman, hard-boiled, occasionally somewhat tactless, and with a great deal of native ability.”

“Where does he come into the picture?” Mason asked.

“He managed to pick up the five shares of stock which had been given to our employee.”

Mason frowned. “Why? Does he want to pry into your business?”

“I thought so at the time. When he handed over the stock for transfer, he joked about being a silent partner, but I think there’s something far more sinister back of it.”

“Go ahead.”

“My sister married a little over a year ago — about eighteen months ago.”

“Whom did she marry?”

“Robert C. Lawley.”

“What does he do?” Mason asked.

She made a little gesture which was more expressive than words, and said, “He manages my sister’s money.”

“Is that enough to keep him busy?”

“It was when there was more of it.”

Mason smiled. “I take it things haven’t gone so well under his management.”

“No.”

“What does your sister say to that?”

She said, “Carla developed heart trouble about a year ago. She didn’t go to a doctor as soon as she should have. She kept on in a mad round of activity, and by the time she had to give in to it, she was pretty far gone. The doctor says it will take a long time before he can bring her back to normal. In the meantime, she isn’t to be excited, or worried.”

“She knows the true state of her finances?” Mason asked.

Mildreth Faulkner said, with feeling, “I hope to God she does.”

“But you’ve never asked her?”

“We don’t talk about her husband,” she said. “I never did like him. Carla thought I was prejudiced.”

“She loves him?”

“Crazy about him. He’s smart enough to keep her that way. A little flattery and those little attentions which women crave are all that’s necessary. You know how it is with a man when the wife has the money. It’s a shame more men can’t learn that lesson, but it seems that only the ones who are in a position to profit financially ever do it.”

“I take it you didn’t approve of the match in the first place.”

“I certainly did not. I always thought Bob was a weak sister, a fortune hunter, and a four-flusher.”

“And I take it he knows that?”

“He does. Oh, we’ve tried to be civilized about the thing. We’ve gotten along all right. Occasionally, before Carla’s heart got bad, we’d go on week-end trips together, and Bob would be so nice to me that butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Then Carla would look at me as much as to say, ‘Can’t you see how perfectly swell he is, Millie?’ ”

“And what would you do?” Mason asked.

She said, “I’d try to be just as oily and smooth as he was, but I was burning up inside. I don’t mind a man who’s frankly on the make, but I do hate mealy-mouthed hypocrisy.”

Mason said, “Well, that’s the background. What comes next?”

“Bob has Carla’s complete confidence. When her heart went bad, Bob started managing all of her affairs. When she’d ask questions, he told her it was no time to bother with business details, that things were going simply grand.”

“And you didn’t believe that?”

“I knew it wasn’t true.”

“How?”

“Well, about a week ago, Bob was in an automobile accident. No one would have thought anything of it if it hadn’t been for the way he started making glib explanations. When you get to know Bob, he’s like an open book. If he’s going to lie, he’ll rehearse it so carefully that the pieces all fit together so smoothly that — well, it’s just too good to be true. It’s like a gilded lily or a painted rose.”

“So he lied about the automobile accident?”

“Yes... when I asked him about it.”

“And you started checking up on him?”

She flushed slightly, and said, “When Peavis came in and asked to have that stock transferred on the books of the corporation, I began to do a lot of thinking. I realized suddenly that if someone controlled that five shares of stock and then could get Carla’s block of stock, he’d have complete control of the corporation. I suppose it was very foolish of us, but we never thought of anything like that because it was all a family affair. I’d even forgotten about those five shares of stock, because we just went ahead with the business and did what we wanted. We never do have a directors’ meeting, and there hasn’t been a stockholders’ meeting for three years. Well, anyway, that five shares of stock represents the balance of power.”

“I presume,” Mason said, “you’re leading up to telling me that your brother-in-law has managed to get control of the stock your sister held.”

“That’s exactly it, only it’s worse than that. Bob evidently has been plunging pretty heavily. Carla has unlimited confidence in him. She gave him a complete power of attorney, and endorsed all of her securities in blank when she got sick. The doctor said she wasn’t to be bothered with business affairs. I always did think that Bob had a finger in that pie somewhere, and got the doctor to say that. It would have been rather easy to do, telling the doctor that Carla worried a lot about business.”

Mason nodded. “Any idea where the stock is?” he asked.

She said, “It’s apparently in the hands of a man by the name of Lynk who is one of the owners of the Golden Horn. The girl with whom my brother-in-law was riding at the time of the accident is a glamour girl who acts as decoy for— She’s supposed to be here. She’s the one I telephoned about. I’m expecting her any minute.”

Mason said, “She isn’t coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone sent her a box of poisoned candy. She rang me up about eleven-thirty, and could hardly talk. She apparently collapsed while she was talking over the telephone.”

“Sent her poisoned candy!” Mildreth Faulkner exclaimed.

Mason nodded.

“But who on earth could have done that?”

Mason said, “There was a card on the candy box. It said, ‘These will make you feel better,’ and was signed simply with the initials ‘M.F.’ Do you know anything about that?”

She looked at him, her eyes getting round. “Why, Mr. Mason— That card— Why, I sent it!”

“With the candy?” Mason asked.

“Good heavens, no! Understand, Mr. Mason, I started doing a little detective work. That automobile accident was my clue. I realized after Peavis called on me what an awful fix I’d be in if Bob had done something with that stock. I knew Carla had endorsed it and given him a power of attorney.”

“But I thought it was Lynk who had the stock.”

“I think Peavis either put him up to it, or Lynk is in touch with Peavis.”

“I see. Tell me about that card.”

“Well, as soon as Bob started talking about the accident with all those glib explanations, I realized at once that if there was anything wrong, that automobile accident would have something to do with it. I knew that there was something about that accident he didn’t want me to find out. So I investigated. I could do that very easily because the other party had reported it to the Traffic Department. It seems that at the time of the accident, Bob had just left the Golden Horn and had a man named Sindler Coll, who I think is a gambler, and Esther Dilmeyer in the car with him.

“I don’t think Bob would deliberately surrender the stock in order to get money to gamble, but I think they’d persuaded him his credit was good, and he’d plunged pretty deeply and had some bad luck. They’d given him something that was supposed to be a sure thing, and he wanted to collect a lot of winnings before he had to pay out his losses.”

“All right, what about the card?”

She laughed. “I do seem to be getting all involved in explanations, don’t I? Well, anyway, I went to the Golden Horn and managed to get acquainted with Esther Dilmeyer. She was feeling pretty low tonight. I gathered that she and Sindler Coll had been — well, pretty sweet on each other, and apparently he’d...”

Mason said, “All right. How about the card?”

She said, “I sent her some orchids.”

“When?”

“When I left. She was feeling blue, and I told her I was in the flower business.”

“She told you about the stock?” Mason asked.

“Not about the stock, but generally what was going on.”

“Would Peavis surrender that stock if you threatened to sue?”

“Not Peavis,” she said. “When he once gets his hands on anything, he hangs on until the last ditch. We might get the stock back, but we’d have five years of litigation doing it — and we might as well sell him control of the company as do that. But tell me, Mr. Mason, how did it happen that you thought my card was in the candy? That card was on the orchids.”

Mason said, “Someone got it from the orchids and put it in the candy. How did you send the orchids?”

“By Western Union messenger.”

“Were they wrapped?”

“Yes, they were in a box.”

“About the size of a candy box?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you send it?”

“To the Golden Horn.”

“And it was addressed to her?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“Pencil, pen and ink, typewriting, or...”

“Oh, pen and ink. I wrote her name on the outside of the box — that is, on the wrapper, you know.”

“The box was about the size of a three-pound candy box?”

“I guess it was.”

“Someone,” Mason said, “could very readily have taken that box at the Golden Horn, promised to take it to Esther Dilmeyer, then taken out the orchids and put in the drugged candy.”

“I suppose so.”

Mason said, “That could have been done all the more readily in case the person who received it was in a position of some responsibility.”

Mildreth Faulkner studied the tips of her gloved fingers. She said, “I remember telling the boy he didn’t need to make a personal delivery, but to be certain they would reach her... I can’t imagine...”

“He probably delivered ’em to the doorman,” Mason said. “The doorman’s rather officious.”

“That may have happened.”

“How much is that stock of yours worth?” Mason asked.

“A great deal — more than the real intrinsic value. You know how it is. I have three shops. They’re all making money. I’m my own boss. I control the business policies. I’m making a good living out of the business, and the business is building up all the time. That’s worth a great deal more to me than the book value of the stock. In other words, every thousand dollars’ income that I’m making out of the place on a setup like that, I figure is the equivalent of a twenty-five thousand dollar capital investment. But, of course, I couldn’t sell out on that basis.”

Mason said, “I may have to pay out a little money. How high can I go?”

She said, without hesitation, “Go to ten thousand dollars if you have to.”

“But not more than that?”

“N-n-no. Well, not without consulting me anyway.”

Mason said, “I don’t think I’ll have to pay out a cent. If I do, it won’t be very much, but — well, I’ll do the best I can. Della, call up the Golden Horn. See if Magard will give us the address of Lynk’s hide-out.”

Mildreth Faulkner opened her purse, took out a folded slip of paper, hesitated, started to put it back, realized the lawyer’s eyes were on her, and said, “I have it here — the address of the Lilac Canyon cabin.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“From Esther Dilmeyer — but don’t give her away.”

“All right, I won’t. Della, you take a taxi home and get some sleep. I’ll call you in an hour or an hour and a half, Miss Faulkner.”

Mason walked over to the hat closet, put on his hat and coat, grinned cheerfully at his worried client. “Now, take it easy,” he said, “and don’t worry. Things are going to be all right. Those men are running a gambling place in connection with the Golden Horn, and there are half a dozen weak points in their armor. One of them is Mr. Magard, Mr. Lynk’s partner. I was at the Golden Horn with Lieutenant Tragg of the Homicide Squad. The doorman started getting officious, and Tragg put him in his place. By the time Magard got back, he knew that the police had been there. He’ll fall all over himself trying to square things up.”

Mildreth Faulkner said, getting to her feet, “I feel better now than I have at any time in the last few hours. This thing hit me an awful blow.”

“Well, we’ll do the best we can,” Mason promised.

“You’re — you’re so thoroughly capable,” she said with a little laugh. “I feel that everything is all settled right now. You’re going out to the Golden Horn personally?”

“No, I’m going to Lilac Canyon, if Lynk hasn’t returned to the Golden Horn.”

“Well, no matter what happens, win, lose, or a draw, you’ll call me just as soon as... well, call me by three o’clock anyway. I’ll be waiting.”

Mason said, reassuringly, “Sure, I’ll call you. Close up the shop, Della, and put out the lights. I’m on my way.”