The Case of the Blonde Bonanza

CHAPTER THREE

It was nine o'clock the next morning when Mason's phone rang.

"Are you decent?" Della Street asked.

"Fully clothed and in my right mind," Mason said. "Where are you?"

"I'm down in the lobby."

"What gives?"

"The contract."

"What contract? Oh, you mean with Dianne Alder?"

"Yes."

"You know what it's all about?"

"I've done better than that. I have her copy with me."

"Good," Mason said. "Come on up. I'll meet you at the elevator."

Mason met Della and asked, "Have you had breakfast?"

"No. You?"

Mason shook his head.

"I'm famished," she said.

"Come on in," Mason told her, "and we'll have some sent up to the suite and eat it out on the balcony overlooking the ocean."

The lawyer called room service and placed an order for a ham steak, two orders of fried eggs, a big pot of coffee and toast.

Della Street, walking over to the full-length mirror, surveyed herself critically. "I'm afraid," she said, "I'm being inspired by the example of Dianne Alder and am about to go overboard."

"That breakfast won't be fattening," Mason said.

"Hush," she told him. "I've been at the point where I've even been counting the calories in a glass of drinking water. And now, inspired by the example of Dianne getting paid for putting on weight, I feel that you should supplement that order with sweet rolls and hashbrown potatoes."

"Shall I?" Mason asked, reaching for the phone.

"Heavens, no!" she exclaimed. "Here, read this contract and prepare to lose a secretary. Why didn't someone tell me about this sooner?"

"Inspired?" Mason asked.

"To quote a famous phrase," Della Street said, "it's nice work if you can get it. I'm thinking of getting it. Eat all you want and get paid for it. Have a guaranteed income. Be free from worries so you can put on weight in the right places."

"What," Mason asked, "are the right places?"

"The places that meet the masculine eye," she said. Mason settled in his chair, glanced through the contract, frowned, started reading it more carefully.

By the time the room service waiter arrived with the table and the breakfast order, Mason had completed a study of the contract.

Della Street waited until after the table had been set on the balcony, the waiter had left the room, and Mason had taken the first sip of his coffee.

"Well?" she asked.

Mason said, "That's the damnedest contract I've ever read."

"I thought you'd be interested in it."

"The strange thing," Mason said, "is that on its face the contract seems so completely reasonable; in fact, so utterly benevolent. The party of the first part agrees that Dianne may fear she will have trouble getting secretarial employment if she puts on weight, and recognizes the fact that as of the time the contract is signed she is gainfully employed as a secretary in a law office at a salary of five thousand, two hundred dollars a year.

"Since the party of the first part desires that she shall give up that employment and devote herself exclusively to her work as a model, it is guaranteed that she will receive an income of one hundred dollars a week, payable each Saturday morning.

"On the other hand, Dianne, as party of the second part, agrees to put on twelve pounds within a period of ten weeks, to resign her position immediately on the signing of the contract, and loaf on the beach, getting as much of a sun tan as possible.

"It is agreed that she will pose in bikini bathing suits as the party of the first part may desire, but she shall not be required to pose in the nude. And if she wishes, at the time of posing in a bikini bathing suit, she may have a woman companion present as her chaperon.

"Now," Mason went on, "comes the peculiar part of the contract. It is stated that the parties contemplate that Dianne's total income may greatly exceed the sum of fifty-two hundred dollars a year; that the fifty-two hundred dollars is a minimum guarantee made by the party of the first part; and Dianne is entitled to have that and to keep that income without dividing it. If, however, her income exceeds that amount, she is to share it fifty-fifty with the party of the first part. And, since the party of the first part is taking a calculated risk, it is agreed that Dianne's gross income shall be computed for the purposes of the division as any money she may receive from any source whatever during the life of the contract.

"The contract is to exist for two years, and the party of the first part has the right of renewing it for an additional two years. And, at the expiration of that time, a further right of renewal for another two years.

"During all of the time the contract is in effect any and all monies received from any source whatever by the party of the second part other than the hundred-aweek guarantee are deemed to be gross income which shall be divided equally, whether such income comes from modeling, lecturing on health, posing, television, movies or from any other source whatever, including prizes in beauty contests, gifts from admirers or otherwise; inheritances, bequests, devices or otherwise; and it is recited that the party of the first part having guaranteed her income for the life of the contract, and having made plans to put her in the public eye, and to give her opportunities to greatly increase her income, is entitled to one-half of her gross income regardless of the source, and/or whether it is directly or indirectly the result of his efforts on her behalf or of the publicity resulting from his efforts under the contract."

Mason picked up his knife and fork, divided the ham steak in half, put a piece on Della Street 's plate, one on his own, and gave his attention to the ham and eggs.

"Well?" Della Street asked.

"Dianne is a nice girl," Mason said.

"She has a striking figure," Della Street said.

Mason nodded.

"She might be described as whistle bait," Della Street went on.

"Well?" Mason asked.

"Do you suppose the party of the first part is completely unaware of these things?"

Mason said, "In the course of my legal career I've seen quite a few approaches. I've never seen one quite like this, if that's what the party of the first part has in mind."

"In the course of my secretarial career," Della Street said demurely, "I've seen them all, but this is a new one.",

"According to the letter of that contract," Mason said, "if Dianne Alder should meet a millionaire, receive a gift of a hundred thousand dollars and should then marry, or if her husband should die and leave her the million dollars, the party of the first part would be entitled to fifty per cent."

"Marrying a million dollars is not one of the normal occupational hazards of a legal secretary in a relatively small beach town," Della Street said.

Suddenly Mason snapped his fingers.

"You've got it?" Della Street asked.

"I have an explanation," Mason said. "I don't know whether it's the explanation but it's quite an explanation."

"What?" Della Street asked. "This thing has me completely baffled."

Mason said, "Let us suppose that the party of the first part, this Harrison T. Boring, whoever he may be, is acquainted with some very wealthy and rather eccentric person-some person who is quite impressionable as far as a certain type of voluptuous blonde beauty is concerned.

"Let us further suppose Boring has been scouting around, looking for just the girl he wants. He's been spending the summer on the beaches, looking them over in bathing suits. He's picked Dianne as being nearest to type, but she is perhaps slightly lacking in curves."

"Wait a minute," Della Street interjected. "If Dianne's lacking in curves, I'm a reincarnated beanpole."

"I know, I know," Mason said, brushing her levity aside. "But this individual has particular and rather peculiar tastes. He's very wealthy and he likes young women with lots of corn-fed beauty, not fat but, as Dianne expressed it, "firm fleshed."

"Probably some old goat," Della Street said, her eyes narrowing.

"Sure, why not?" Mason said. "Perhaps some rich old codger who is trying to turn back the hands of the clock. Perhaps he had a love affair with a blonde who was exceptionally voluptuous and yet at the same time had the frank, blue-eyed gaze that characterizes Dianne.

"So Boring makes a contract with Dianne. He gets her to put on weight. He gets her to follow his instructions to the letter. At the proper time he introduces her to this pigeon he has all picked out, and from there on Boring takes charge.

"Any one of several things can happen. Either the pigeon becomes involved with Dianne, in which event Boring acts as the blackmailing mastermind who manipulates the shakedown, or the man lavishes Dianne with gifts, or perhaps, if Boring manipulates it right, the parties commit matrimony."

"And then," Della Street asked, "Boring would be getting fifty per cent of Dianne's housekeeping allowance? After all, marriage can be rather disillusioning under certain circumstances."

"Then," Mason said, "comes the proviso that any money she receives within the time limit of the contract, whether by inheritance, descent, bequest or devise, is considered part of her gross income. Boring arranges that the wealthy husband leads a short but happy life, and Dianne comes into her inheritance with Boring standing around with a carving knife ready to slice off his share."

Della Street thought that over for a moment. "Well, what do you know," she said.

"And that," Mason said, "explains the peculiar optional extension provisions of the contract. It can run for two years, four years or six years at the option of the party of the first part. Quite evidently he hopes that the matter will be all concluded with the two-year period, but in the event it isn't and the husband should be more resistant than he anticipates, he can renew the contract for another two years, and if the husband still manages to survive the perils of existence for that fouryear period, he can still renew for another two years."

"And where," Della Street asked, "would that leave Dianne Alder? Do you suppose he would plan to have her convicted of the murder?"

"No, no, not that," Mason said. "He couldn't afford to."

"Why not?"

"Because," Mason pointed out, "a murderer can't inherit from his victim. Therefore Boring has to manipulate things in such a way that the wealthy husband dies what seems to be a natural death. Or, if murdered, that some other person has to be the murderer. Dianne, as the bereaved widow, steps into an inheritance of a few million dollars, and Boring, as the person who brought Dianne into the public eye and thereby arranged for the meeting with her future husband, produces his contract and wants a fifty-fifty split."

"With that much involved, wouldn't the contract be contested on the grounds of public policy, undue influence and a lot of other things?"

"Sure it would," Mason said, "but with that much involved and with a contract of this sort in the background, Dianne would make a settlement. If she became a wealthy widow with social possibilities ahead of her, she would hardly want to have this chapter of her career brought into the open; the diet, the putting on weight, the deliberate entrapment of her husband, and all the rest of it."

"In other words," Della Street said, "Harrison T. Boring walked down the beaches looking for a precise type of feminine beauty. When his eyes lit on Dianne, he recognized her as a potential bonanza."

"Bear in mind," Mason said thoughtfully, "that there are certain other things. Dianne has the build of a striptease dancer but essentially has the background of a darn nice girl. Those are the things on which Harrison T. Boring wants to capitalize, and I may point out that the combination is not very easy to come by.

"Usually a girl with Dianne's physical attributes has developed an attitude of sophistication, a certain degree of worldly wisdom, and the unmistakable earmarks of experience, whereas Dianne is essentially shy, selfconscious, easily embarrassed, slightly naive and delightfully easy on the eyes."

"I see that Dianne has impressed you by her good points," Della Street said.

Mason's eyes were level-lidded with concentration. "What has Dianne told you about Boring, anything?"

"Very little. She knows very little.

"Dianne was a legal secretary. She was, of course, conscious of her figure. She was also conscious of the fact that if her waist should expand, the rest of her figure would be damaged. So she did a lot of swimming and walking. She would quit work at five o'clock during the summer afternoons, then, taking advantage of daylight saving time, get into her swimming suit, come down on the beach and walk and swim."

"Unescorted?" Mason asked.

"She tried to be. She wanted exercise. The average man who wanted to swim with her wasn't particularly keen on that sort of exercise; in fact, very few of them could keep up with her. She walked and ran and swam and, of course, acquired a delightful sun tan.

"Since women of that build like to admire themselves in the nude in front of mirrors, and are painfully conscious of the white streaks which mar the smooth sun tan where convention decrees a minimum of clothing should be worn, Dianne supplemented her weekday swimming parties by lying in the nude in a sun bath she had constructed in the privacy of the back yard.

"About three weeks before this contract was signed she noticed that she was being stared at rather persistently and finally followed by a man whom she describes as being in his thirties, with keen eyes and a dignified, distinguished manner. He looked like an actor."

"And what happened?"

"Nothing at first. Dianne is accustomed to attracting attention. She's accustomed to having men try to make passes at her and she takes all of that in her stride.

"Then one day Boring approached her and said he had a business proposition he'd like to discuss with her and she told him to get lost. He said that this was purely legitimate; that it had to do with the possibility of her getting gainful employment in Hollywood and was sh interested.

"Naturally, Dianne was interested. So Boring gave her this story about a new trend in fashion, about the fact that women were becoming neurotic by paying too much attention to slim figures; that one of the most popular actresses, with women, was Mae West; that if Mae West had only started a new type of dress style it would have gone over like a house afire; that nature didn't intend women to have thin figures after they had reached maturity as women.

"Dianne said he was very convincing and of course the offer he made was quite attractive.

"All Dianne had to do was to put on weight and put in a lot of time training so that the flesh she put on was firm flesh and not fat. Boring was very insistent about that."

"All right," Mason said, "she signed the contract. Did she get any advice on it? She was working for lawyers and-"

"No, she didn't," Della Street interjected. "Boring was particularly insistent that she keep the entire matter completely confidential, that no one should know about it; that under no circumstances was she to mention the reason why she was resigning from her secretarial position.

"Boring explained that he wanted to have this new style of his so highly personalized that women would become aware of Dianne's beauty before they realized that they were being given a new style. Boring said that women were very resistant to new styles until they became a vogue and then they fell all over themselves falling in line.

"Boring has ideas for Dianne to attract a lot of public attention and then he is going to have her put on a series of health lectures. He's going to give her scripts that she is to follow, speeches she is to make, explaining that nature intended a woman to have curves and that men really like women with curves; that the slim, neurotic models are an artificial by-product of the dress designer's art.

"Boring told her that he could set the country afire with the right kind of approach to this thing and that all women would throw diets out of the window, start putting on weight and would only be anxious to have the weight firm flesh instead of bulging fat; that he intended to open up a series of Dianne Alder studios for healthful figures and charming curves."

Mason said, "Hang it! The guy could be right at that, Della."

"It would be a job," Della said. "Something you wouldn't want to gamble a hundred dollars a week on."

"It depends," Mason said. "The stakes are big enough… All right, now what happened after the contract was signed? Did Boring insist that she become cuddly with him?"

"That is the strange part," Della Street said. "Dianne rather felt that that would be a part of the contract and was rather hesitant about it until finally Boring, discovering the reason for her hesitancy, told her that once she signed the contract she would see very little of him; that he was going to be busy in Hollywood, New York and Paris, laying the foundations for this new type of promotion. So finally Dianne signed the contract.

"She hasn't seen Boring since but she hears from him on the telephone. Every once in a while he will call her and from the nature of the conversation Dianne knows that he is keeping a close watch on what she is doing."

"Now, that's interesting," Mason said.

"Dianne finds it rather disconcerting."

"How does she receive her hundred dollars, Della?" Mason asked.

"Every Saturday morning there is an envelope in the mail with a check. The checks are signed by the Hollywood Talent Scout Modeling Agency, per Harrison T. Boring, president."

"Well," Mason said, "I don't like to give up a good murder mystery before it's even got off the ground, Della, but there's just a chance this whole idea may be on the up-and-up. Boring's idea sounds pretty farfetched and fishy when it's written in the cold phraseology of a contract, but the more you think of his explanation, the more plausible it sounds.

"I was hoping that we were on the track of a potential murder before the potential corpse had really walked into the danger zone. I had visions of waiting until Harrison T. Boring had introduced Dianne to his millionaire pigeon and then stepping into the picture in a way that would cause Mr. Boring a maximum of embarrassment and perhaps feathering Dianne Alder's nest."

"As to the latter," Della Street said, "we have to remember that every time Dianne's nest gets two feathers, Boring gets one of them."

"That's what the contract says," Mason observed, "but sometimes things don't work out that way… Well, Della, I guess we'll have to give Mr. Harrison T. Boring the benefit of the doubt and you can return Dianne's contract to her. But we'll sort of keep an eye on her."

"Yes," Della Street said, "I thought you would want to do that."

Mason looked at her sharply but found nothing other than an expression of innocence on her face.

Abruptly the telephone rang. Della Street picked up the instrument.

"Hello," she said in a low voice. "This is Mr. Mason's suite."

Dianne Alder's voice came over the phone in a rush of words.

"Oh, Della, I'm glad I caught you!- Your Aunt told me where to find you.- Della, I have to have that contract back right away. I'm sorry I let you have it and I hope you didn't say anything about it to anybody."

"Why?" Della asked.

"Because… well, because I guess I shouldn't have let it out of my possession. There's a proviso in the contract that I'm to do everything I can to avoid premature publicity and- Gosh, Della, I guess I made a booboo even letting you have it or talking about the arrangement. You're the only one I've told anything at all about it. Mr. Boring impressed on me that if I started telling even my closest friends, the friends would tell their friends, the newspapers would get hold of it and make a feature story that would result in what he called premature publicity.

"He said that when they got ready to unveil the new models they'd give me a lot of publicity. That was when I was to go on television and they were going to arrange for a movie test, but nothing must be done until they were ready. They said they didn't want irresponsible reporters to skim the cream off their campaign."

"Do you want me to mail the contract?" Della Street asked.

"If it's all right with you, I'll run up and get it."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm at a drugstore only about three blocks from the hotel."

"Come on up," Della Street said.

She cradled the phone, turned to Perry Mason and caught the interest in his eye.

"Dianne?" Mason asked.

"That's right."

"Wants the contract back?"

"Yes."

Mason resumed his contemplative study of the ceiling. "Is she coming up to get the contract, Della?"

"Yes."

"What caused her sudden concern, Della?"

"She didn't say."

"When she comes," Mason said, "invite her in. I want to talk with her."

Mason lit a cigarette, watched the smoke curl upward.

At length he said, "I have become more than a little curious about Harrison T. Boring. He may be smarter than I thought."

The lawyer lapsed into silence, remained thoughtful until the chimes sounded and Della Street opened the door.

Dianne Alder said, "I won't come in, Della, thanks. Just hand me the papers and I'll be on my way."

"Come on in," Mason invited.

She stood on the threshold as Della Street opened the door wide. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Mason. Thank you so much, but I won't disturb you, I'll just run on."

"Come in, I'd like to talk with you."

"I…"

Mason indicated a chair.

Reluctantly, apparently qot knowing how to avoid the lawyer's invitation without giving offense, Dianne Alder came in and said, "Actually I'm in a hurry and I… I didn't want to disturb you. I let Della look over my contract. She was interested and… well, I wanted to be sure that it was good. You see, I'm depending a lot on that contract."

"You have dependents?" Mason asked.

"No longer. Mother died over six months ago."

"Leave you any estate?" Mason asked casually.

"Heavens, no. She left a will leaving everything to me, but there wasn't anything to leave. I was supporting her. That's why I had to keep on with a steady job. I had thought some of-well, moving to the city but Mother liked it here and I didn't want to leave her, and it's too far to commute."

"Father living?"

"No. He died when I was ten years old. Really, Mr. Mason, I don't like to intrude on your time, and I-well… someone is waiting for me."

"I see," Mason said, and nodded to Della Street. "Better give her the contract, Della."

Dianne took the contract, thanked Della Street, gave Mason a timid hand, said, "Thank you so much, Mr. Mason. It's been such a pleasure meeting you," and then, turning, walked rapidly out of the door and all but ran down the corridor.

"Well?" Della Street said, closing the door.

Mason shook his head. "That girl needs someone to look after her."

"Isn't the contract all right?"

"Is Boring all right?" Mason asked.

"I don't know."

"He's paying one hundred dollars a week," Mason said. "He agrees to pay fifty-two hundred dollars a year. Suppose he doesn't pay it. Then what?"

"Why, he'd be liable for it, wouldn't he?"

"If he has any property," Mason said. "It hasn't been determined that he has any property. No one seems to know very much about him.

"Dianne Alder has given up a job. She's putting on weight-that's like rowing out of a bay when the tide is running out. It's mighty easy to go out but when you turn around and try to come back, you have to fight every inch of the way.

"Suppose that some Saturday morning the hundred dollars isn't forthcoming. Suppose she rings the telephone of Harrison T. Boring at the modeling agency and finds the phone has been disconnected?"

"Yes," Della Street said, "I can see where that would put Dianne in an embarrassing predicament. But, of course, if she were working at a job, the boss could tell her that he was handing her two weeks" wages and had no further need for her services."

"He could," Mason said, "but if he hired her in the first place and her services were satisfactory, he would have no particular reason to dispense with them."

"Perhaps Boring would have no reason to dispense with her services," Della Street said.

"That depends on what he was looking for in the first place," Mason pointed out. "If Dianne marries a millionaire, she has to pay over half of what she gets during a six-year period. If Boring quits paying, Dianne may have nothing but an added twelve pounds of weight and a worthless piece of paper."

Abruptly the lawyer reached a decision. "Get Paul Drake at the Drake Detective Agency, Della."

Della Street said, "Here we go again."

"We do, for a fact," Mason said. "This thing has aroused my curiosity. As an attorney I don't like to stand with my hands in my pockets and watch Dianne being taken for a ride.

"I know I'm getting the cart before the horse, but I'll bet odds that before we get finished Dianne will be asking for our help. When she does, I want to be one jump ahead of Boring instead of one jump behind."

Della Street said archly, "Would you be so solicitous of her welfare if she were flat-chested?"

Mason grinned. "Frankly, Della, I don't know. But I think my motivation at the moment is one of extreme curiosity, plus a desire to give Boring a lesson about picking on credulous young women."

"All right," she said, "I'll call Paul. He usually comes into the office around this time on Sundays to check up on the reports made by his various operatives over Friday and Saturday."

Della Street put through the call. After a few moments she said, "Hello, Paul… The boss wants to talk with you."

Mason moved over to the telephone. "Hi, Paul. I have a job for you. A gentleman by the name of Harrison T. Boring. He has a business. It's called the Hollywood Talent Scout Modeling Agency. It's a Hollywood address and that's all I know for sure."

"What about him?" Drake asked.

"Get a line on him," Mason said, "and I'm particularly interested in knowing if he is cultivating some millionaire who has a penchant for young women. If you find any millionaires in the guy's background, I'd like to know about them.

"And it's very important that he has no inkling of the fact he's being investigated."

"Okay," Drake said, "I'll get a line on him."

"Here's another angle of the same picture," Mason said. "Dianne Alder, about twenty-four, with lots of this and that and these and those, blonde, blue-eyed, with lots and lots of figure. Living here at Bolero Beach. Mother died six months ago. Father died when she was ten years old. Worked as a secretary for a law firm. I'm interested in her. She's been living here for some time and it shouldn't be too difficult to get her background. What I am particularly interested in at the moment is finding out whether she's being kept under surveillance."

"May I ask who your client is?" Drake said. "I'd like to get the picture in proper perspective."

"I'm the client," Mason said. "Get your men started."

When Mason had hung up the telephone, Della Street said, "You think she's under surveillance, Perry?"

"I'm just wondering," Mason said. "I'd like to know if someone knew she'd been talking with us and had delivered a warning. She seemed rather disturbed about something. If anyone is playing games, I want to find out about it and if I'm going to be asked to sit in on the game I want to draw cards.

"Comment?"

Della Street smiled. "No comment, but I still wonder what would happen if she'd been flat-chested."