The Case of the Black-Eyed Blonde

4

At three-thirty in the afternoon a special delivery letter was received by Mason. The envelope contained a check for one thousand dollars signed by Jason Bartsler, and a scribbled memo in pencil saying, “You win.”

At four forty-five p.m. a frantically worried Diana Regis telephoned begging to be connected with Perry Mason upon a matter of great importance. Mason took the call and heard Diana’s excited voice. “Mr. Mason! Something terrible has happened. Someone has stolen my purse, and — well, everything was in it. You know, everything!”

“What,” Mason asked, “do you mean by everything?”

“The money.”

“The money you received as settlement from Jason Bartsler?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Suppose,” Mason said, “you tell me exactly what happened. Where did this take place?”

“In my apartment. I was dog tired and it didn’t seem as though I could get enough sleep. I got up this morning and had breakfast, went out and bought a few groceries, came back and listened to the radio, felt sleepy, took off my dress, got on the bed and simply went dead to the world. I woke up about half an hour ago and my purse was gone.”

“Where had you left it?”

She said apologetically, “I think I left it on the table in the front room.”

“You were rather careless with a purse containing fifteen hundred dollars in cash.”

“I realize that now. But it happened in a peculiar way. I was carrying in some groceries, and wanted to put them in the little pantry we have here, so I dropped the purse on the table and put away the groceries and did a few chores, and started dozing and became so utterly sleepy I didn’t think about the money or anything else.”

“Is there any indication that anyone has forced the lock on your door?”

“No, Mr. Mason. I... I would have thought that it was my roommate, Mildred Danville — you know, the girl who shares the apartment with me, only... only there’s the stub of a cigar in an ash tray here on the table by the purse.”

“Where’s your roommate now?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Mason. It’s rather strange. There’s no word from her. She’s a radio actress, too, although she isn’t on the air in anything right now, but she usually keeps in touch with the studio, and she hasn’t been there for two or three days. I’ve been trying to locate her...”

“How about your automobile?” Mason asked.

“What about it?”

“Where do you keep it?”

“In a private garage.”

“Anyone else have a key to that garage?”

“Well, yes... Mildred does.”

Mason said, “Go down. Take a look in the garage. See if your car is there. Don’t touch anything on the table, in case you decide to call the police.”

“Call the police? Oh, Mr. Mason, I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Well, there are... ah, complicating factors. I wouldn’t want the police at all.”

“Then why did you call me?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Mason, only you seem so resourceful and...”

Mason said, “Go take a look in the garage where you keep your car. See if it’s gone, then come on up here. I’m leaving the office, but Miss Street will be here and she’ll take you down the hall to the Drake Detective Agency. I’ll ask Paul Drake, the head of the agency, to assign some good operative to go over to your place and make an investigation.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Mr. Mason. I... Oh!”

“What’s the matter?”

“All of my keys are in my purse. I haven’t a key to the garage — and I’ll have to leave the apartment unlocked so I can get back in. There isn’t any duplicate key... Wait a minute! Yes, there is too. I remember now, there’s a third key. That will be in the bureau drawer.”

“Can you tell whether the car is in the garage if the door’s locked?” Mason asked. “Is there any way you can peek through a window, or...”

“Yes, there’s a window in back. I never thought of that. How stupid of me! All right, Mr. Mason, I’ll be right up just as soon as I get some clothes on.”

“Della Street will be here until five-thirty,” Mason said. “She’ll wait.”

Mason hung up the telephone, said, “Della, you’ll have to wait here until five-thirty. Go down to Paul Drake’s office and tell him a client of mine has a purse missing. Tell him I’d appreciate it if he’d put a good man on the job. See if he can find anything in the line of a clue. If he can, he’d better check on this Mildred Danville. If Diana is flat broke, stake her to some pocket money.”

“How much?”

“Depending upon what she needs, fifty or a hundred. Okay, Della, I’m on my way.”

Mason took the elevator, noticed as he emerged on the street that the heavy clouds seemed more ominous than ever. He dropped in at his club for a cocktail, went to his apartment, bathed, changed his clothes and was just starting out for dinner when the phone rang.

Mason picked up the receiver and heard Della Street’s voice saying, “Hello, Chief. I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t think it’s anything you’ll want. I told Diana I couldn’t do it, but afterward I got to thinking it over and thought I’d better give you a call.”

“What is it?” Mason asked. “Something about the purse?”

“No, she’s got that located.”

“Who had it?”

“Mildred Danville. That seems to have been a tempest in a teapot.”

“And what’s this other about?”

“Mildred wants Diana to meet her at the home of Mrs. Robert Bartsler. It’s at sixty-seven fifty San Felipe Boulevard. That’s out in the San Fernando Valley, and she wants Diana to try to get you to come along. It seems there’s going to be some legal fireworks.”

“Over what?”

“Over the matter that Mr. Bartsler outlined to you.”

“What does Mildred Danville have to do with that?”

“I don’t know.”

Mason said, “I don’t want to mix in it.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Tell me about the purse.”

“Oh, Diana came up. I took her into Paul Drake’s place, and Drake had an operative there. He went down to Diana’s apartment with her, and I guess the phone was ringing about as soon as they stepped in the door. The telephone call was from Mildred Danville, and I guess Drake’s operative had quite a time. He sat and waited while they talked some ten or fifteen minutes on the telephone. Diana poured out a list of her troubles, and there was a lot of laughter about the purse, and Diana told all about her job at Bartsler’s, and getting a black eye. Drake’s operative finally got weary of waiting and broke in on the conversation to tell Diana that since she’d located her purse he was on his way. She told Mildred to call back in ten or fifteen minutes and hung up on her to thank the detective effusively, and promised to pay him as soon as she got her money back.

“Well, apparently when Mildred called Diana back, something had happened. Anyway, Diana showed up here all excited. It seems Diana’s black eye has something to do with it, but if you can tell what, it’s more than I can. Anyway, Mildred wants Diana to persuade you, if she possibly can, to come and meet her out at Helen Bartsler’s place in San Fernando.”

“What time?” Mason asked.

“Ten o’clock tonight.”

“Where’s Diana now?”

“She just left here. She’s going to be back here at nine-thirty to see if you’ll go. I suppose you noticed it’s starting to rain. I can hear the drops on the roof.”

Mason said, “I was just going out to dinner. Want to go get a bite?”

“Thanks, Chief, I’ve eaten.”

“Okay. I’m glad Diana found her purse.”

Della Street said, “I gave her twenty-five dollars for get-by money. She told me she’d be in tomorrow and pay it back. Sorry I bothered you, Chief, but I began to worry about it, thinking perhaps you’d like to know.”

“Good girl,” Mason said. “Sure you won’t come along and have a little coffee, or a brandy?”

“No thanks. I’m going to see Diana again at nine-thirty, and...”

“Oh, come along,” Mason urged. “I’ll have you back at your place at nine-thirty.”

Della Street hesitated.

“Come on. Don’t bother to change your clothes. Just come as you are, and we’ll go to that little place where they make the Hungarian goulash, have some wine and...”

“It’s a date,” Della said laughing. “But I’m still in my office clothes, and the way it’s starting to rain, I’m certainly not going to doll up.”

“Okay — be there in ten minutes,” Mason said and hung up.

As he dropped the receiver into place he heard the heavy patter of rain drops on the roof of the balcony turn into a sullen deep- throated roar.