The Case of the Daring Divorcee

Chapter Five

Mason entered his office at ten o’clock in the morning and stood in the door thoughtfully regarding Della Street.

“Della,” he said, “when you have been up half the night working, why the devil don’t you sleep late in the morning?”

She smiled and said, “Because I can’t. I wake up and start thinking of the things that have piled up here at the office and the first thing I know I’m wide awake and up out of bed, taking a shower, cooking breakfast and catching the same old bus.”

He grinned and said, “I woke up at the usual time this morning too and started to get up and take a shower, then relaxed and the first thing I knew it was eight-thirty. What’s new, Della, anything?”

“Not at the moment. The—”

The phone rang. Della Street picked it up, said, “Yes, Gertie,” then after a moment said, “Just a moment. I’ll find out.

“Your on-again-off-again client has called the office, asking Gertie if it would be possible to have an appointment with you this morning.”

“You mean Adelle Hastings?“

“Yes.”

“Let me talk with her,” Mason said.

Della Street said, “Just a minute, Gertie. Put her on Mr. Mason’s line, will you?”

Mason picked up the phone, said, “Hello?”

Adelle Hastings’ voice held a note of urgency.

“Mr. Mason, I simply must see you.”

“You’re here in Los Angeles?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I couldn’t get to sleep last night. The more I thought of it the more I began to think your idea might be the right one, and if it is... I want to see you, if possible before... before...”

“Before what?” Mason asked.

“Before anything happens.”

“What do you mean, happens?”

“Well, if Garvin doesn’t keep that ten o’clock appointment this morning Simley Beason will— Well, it will mean something very serious is wrong.”

“Probably he’s keeping that appointment right now,” Mason said.

“That’s just the point,“ she said. “He hasn’t shown up at the office as of two or three minutes ago.”

“You mean you’ve been on the phone talking with Mr. Beason?”

“Yes.”

“That might not be too good,” Mason said thoughtfully. “Where are you with reference to my office?”

“I’m in the parking lot adjoining the building.”

“All right,” Mason said, “now here’s what I want you to do. Come up here right away but don’t go to the entrance office. Now, understand that definitely. Don’t go to the entrance office. Go to the door marked PERRY MASON — PRIVATE. Knock on that door and Della Street will let you in.”

“I’m not to go through the reception room?”

“No.”

“And I’m to come right up?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right up,” she promised.

Mason hung up the phone and turned to Della Street. “This thing bothers me, Della.”

Della, who had been monitoring the telephone conversation, nodded.

“Of course,” Mason said, “Adelle Hastings could be right about her purse having been stolen.”

“And again,” Della Street said, as Mason hesitated.

“And again,” Mason said, grinning, “she could have come to the office, left her purse and walked away, knowing that someone in the office would find the purse and that the contents would arouse a great deal of interest.

“She had left enough money in the purse so that she could be certain we’d take steps to get in touch with her — even without the gun in the purse we’d have done that.”

Della Street waited silently as Mason paused.

“Well?” Mason asked.

She smiled and said, “Go ahead. You’re thinking out loud, just using my ears to bounce words off of so you can clarify your own thinking”

Mason might not have heard her. Abruptly he said, “Get Paul Drake on the phone right away, Della. I want to talk with him before Adelle Hastings gets up here.”

Della Street’s nimble fingers twisted the dial of the telephone with swift efficiency. A moment later she said, “Here’s Paul Drake, Chief.”

Mason picked up the phone and said, “Paul, this is an emergency matter and I want some fast action.”

“You always do,” Drake said.

“Hold it,” Mason said, “there’s no time for kidding. I want you to get as many young women as you can, up to six or seven — no more than that — but six or seven, if possible.

“I want them between twenty-seven to thirty-two. I want them all with good figures, weighing not more than a hundred and seventeen pounds, and not less than a hundred and ten pounds. I want them all to put on heavy dark glasses. You can send one of your operatives down to a drugstore and get a bunch of dark glasses, the biggest and darkest lenses you can find.”

“How soon?” Drake asked.

“Right now,” Mason told him.

“Have a heart, Perry. I can’t—”

“I don’t care what you have to pay,” Mason said, “I want them. I’m mixed into something that bothers me personally and professionally and I want those women. Probably your receptionist knows some of the girls who are working here in the building who can get away for half an hour or so. Send an operative down to the restaurant. Pick up some of the girls who are having a coffee break. Send someone over to the parking lot. Pick out young women who have parked their cars. Ask them if they want to get twenty dollars for an hour’s work. Then give me a ring as soon as you’ve got them.”

“Twenty dollars for an hour’s work?” Drake asked.

“Fifty, if you have to,” Mason said. “I want results.”

“I’m on the job,” Drake said. “I’ll start with my receptionist. I have a couple of operatives here that are on the loose, and a young chap who can skip down to the drugstore and get dark glasses. You want them big and dark.”

“That’s right. Big lenses and very dark,” Mason said. “We’ll give you a ring as soon as we’re ready. Now, get this straight, Paul. You have these girls in your office all ready to go, with dark glasses on.

“At the proper time, Della will ring your office and say, ‘Paul, this is Della.’ That’s all she’ll say. The minute she says that, you push those girls out into the corridor and have them walk down to the door of my reception room, but tell them not to go in until I come out of my private office with a young woman of that general description, who will also be wearing dark glasses. I’ll walk down to the group and we’ll all go in together. Got that?”

“Got it,” Drake said.

Mason hung up.

Della Street looked at Mason and smiled. “That,” she said, “is the advantage of having a detective agency on the same floor of the building in which you have a law office.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully.

“The idea is to have something of a line-up?” Della Street asked.

“Exactly,” Mason said. “You know Gertie. If I bring Adelle Hastings out into the outer office with dark glasses on and say, ‘Gertie, have you ever seen this young woman before?’ Gertie will pipe up and say, ‘Oh, yes. That’s the woman who left her purse here yesterday — Mrs. Hastings. Mr. Mason has your purse in the office, Mrs. Hastings.’

“Human nature being what it is, Gertie by this time remembers only the fact that a well-shaped woman, around twenty-seven or thirty, wearing heavy dark glasses, was in the office and left a purse.

“Now, if anything has happened, and Gertie makes that offhand identification, we might be in trouble.”

“What do you think has happened?” Della Street asked.

“If someone has stolen Adelle Hastings’ bag and fired two shots from the revolver that was in that bag, almost anything could have happened. And if, on the other hand, Adelle Hastings fired two shots from that revolver and then went to all this trouble to set the stage so that I’d be drawn into the case, you can be pretty damn certain that something has happened. She—”

Mason broke off as there was a tapping on the door to his private office.

Mason nodded to Della Street.

Della Street opened the door.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hastings,” Mason said. “You must have got up early and had quite a drive.”

“I did.”

“Where are your dark glasses?”

“Heavens, I don’t wear dark glasses except when I’m crossing the desert in the glare of daylight. I never wear them around the city.”

“But you do have a pair of dark glasses?”

“Certainly. A person can’t drive across the desert between here and Las Vegas without having dark glasses to protect the eyes.”

“Quite a glare?”

“A terrific glare.”

“What do you do with your dark glasses after you take them off?”

“I put them in my handbag, in a case.”

“Were your dark glasses in the handbag that I turned over to you?”

“No.”

“Then someone was wearing them.”

“Of course.”

“You found the empty leather case in your handbag? It was in there when I gave it to you.”

“Yes, it’s there.”

“You now have another pair?”

“Yes. I stopped at a drugstore on the road home yesterday and picked up another pair.”

“And you have your purse and handbag with you this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Everything was in it, just as I gave it to you?”

“Yes. Why are you asking these questions, Mr. Mason?”

“Let’s see your dark glasses,” the lawyer said.

She opened her purse, took out a leather case and took out a pair of dark glasses.

“How does it happen those glasses fit the case as though they had been made for it?” Mason asked.

“I have a particular brand of dark glasses that I buy, and I was able to pick up a pair that were the same brand and the same size lenses as those I’d lost.”

“So they fitted in the leather case?”

“Yes.”

“Suppose there’s any chance the clerk who sold you the glasses would remember you?”

“I doubt it. No one sold them to me. I walked into the drugstore, picked out the type of glasses that I wanted, the price was on the glasses and I simply caught the attention of the clerk who was busy waiting on someone else, put the money on the counter, held up the dark glasses and he nodded and waved his hand, indicating it was all right, so I just left the money and walked out. I was in a hurry and he was busy.”

“All right,” Mason said, “could you find the drugstore again?”

She frowned and said, “I don’t know whether I could or not. It was — I think I could. I’d know it if I saw it again. That is, I think I would. It was just another drugstore as far as I was concerned.”

“Now, where did you get the money that you used in paying for these dark glasses?”

“I told you my husband gave me five hundred dollars. I told him about someone stealing my purse and he gave me five hundred dollars and told me to get another purse and that would see me home, that probably I’d get all the contents of my purse back except the money. He said that thieves were usually considerate in the matter of driving licenses and things of that sort. He said they didn’t like to have incriminating things in their possession. He said there was nothing distinctive about money that could be identified, so they’d take out the money, then put the other things in a big envelope and mail it back to me. He said I’d probably have it by the time I got home.”

“All right,” Mason said, “let’s hear all of your story. What brings you here?”

She said, “You’re responsible. I kept thinking over what you said last night. I think something’s happened. I’ll never feel relaxed again until I know definitely one way or the other.”

Mason said, “Would you mind putting on your dark glasses and letting me take a look at you with them on?”

She picked up the glasses and put them on.

Mason regarded her thoughtfully. “Those have very big lenses.”

“The biggest they make,” she said. “When you’re out in the desert, particularly during the summer months, the glare can be absolutely intolerable. You want to shut out as much of it as possible. I’d use goggles, only they are so hot on your eyes. So I’ve compromised on these glasses. They’re the Willikens Glasses, Number 24-X. That’s the code number indicating the large lenses and the heavy coloring. They cost ten dollars.”

“And tax?” Mason asked.

“No, they’re priced at an odd figure so that the ten dollars includes the sales tax. That’s true everywhere. No matter what the tax is, the glasses cost ten dollars. The Willikens line is standard. They do a lot of advertising in the slick magazines.”

Mason nodded, said, “All right. You called Simley Beason this morning?”

“Yes. It was just before I called you. Simley was worried. He said he had called the house two or three times and that the tape-recording answering service was still on. He said my husband had that important appointment at the office, that when my husband had an appointment of that sort he nearly always arrived ten or fifteen minutes early.”

“The appointment hadn’t been canceled?” Mason asked.

“No, the man whom my husband was to meet was there in the office waiting. Simley said that if Garvin didn’t show up within the next five or ten minutes he was going to drive out to the house to see what the trouble was.”

“Would he have a key to the house?” Mason asked.

“He could get one,” she said. “There’s a key to the house which my husband keeps at the office so that if he’s out of town and telephones and wants anyone to go out to the house and get something, the person he sends can pick up the key, and let himself in.”

Mason looked at his watch, said, “Then we should know something within the next few minutes. If your husband was called out somewhere he would have left a note and—”

“If he’d been called out,” she interrupted, “he would have called the office immediately. I’m afraid he’s sick or...”

“Or?” Mason prompted, as her voice trailed into silence.

“Or what you thought last night,” she said.

Mason consulted his watch, said to Della Street, “Let’s give Paul Drake a ring.”

Della Street dialed Drake’s number.

Mason got on the line and as soon as he heard Drake’s voice said, “Perry, Paul. How are you coming with that assignment?”

“I’ve got two girls that meet the requirements. One of them is a friend of my receptionist. Another one came from the secretarial agency on the third floor. There’s also a secretarial agency on the top floor and I think we can get one or two girls from there. I have an operative up there now.”

“The parking lot?” Mason asked.

“No dice down there. At least, so far. I’ve had an operative down there who hasn’t had any luck. Women of that description who put their cars in there are very definitely intent on shopping and, moreover, they’re rather suspicious. Even when my operative shows them his identification and tells them that it’s a routine matter of just a few minutes’ work, they fight shy.”

“Even at fifty dollars for an hour’s work?” Mason asked.

“Even at that price, they fight shy.”

Mason looked at his watch again and said, “I’m fighting the second hand of the watch, Paul. Do the best you can.”

“Good Lord,” Drake said, “I’m doing the best I can... Here comes my man from the secretarial agency on the top floor. He’s got two young women with him who answer the description.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Stay with it. Let me know just as soon as you’re ready and remember the call that will trigger the thing. Della will just mention her name and hang up.”

“I wish I knew what the hell you were getting at,” Drake said.

Mason said, “It’s probably better that you don’t, Paul.”

“How soon will you want these girls?”

“Probably within a matter of five or ten minutes,” Mason said. “You’ll be bearing from me.”

Mason dropped the telephone into its cradle, frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s all this?” Adelle Hastings asked. “Does this have to do with my case?”

Mason looked at her thoughtfully. “What case?” he asked.

She seemed embarrassed. “Why, I— Well, of course I expect to pay you for your time, Mr. Mason. You’ll be compensated.”

Mason said to Della Street, “Get Homicide at police headquarters, Della. See if Lieutenant Tragg is in. I’ll talk with him, but if he isn’t in I’ll talk with whoever is in charge.”

Della Street nodded, asked for an outside line, then put through the call herself.

“Homicide, please,” she said. Then after a moment, “Is Lieutenant Tragg there? Perry Mason calling.”

She turned to the lawyer and said, “They’re calling him to the phone, Perry.”

Mason picked up his phone and nodded to Della Street that she was to monitor the conversation.

Tragg’s voice, dry, crisply efficient, came over the line. “Hello, Perry,” he said. “Haven’t found another body, have you?”

“Would it surprise you?” Mason asked.

“No.”

“I don’t know what I’ve found,” Mason said. “It’s something that bothers me.”

“That’s fine,” Tragg said. “Anything that bothers you is certain to bother me. What seems to be the trouble?”

“A client of mine living in Las Vegas, Nevada, lost her purse a couple of days ago; that is, her handbag — the big bag that a woman carries, including lipstick, coin purse, cigarettes and all the rest of the paraphernalia.”

“Go on,” Tragg said.

“This woman,” Mason said, “was Adelle Sterling Hastings, the wife of Garvin S. Hastings. At present Mrs. Hastings has separated from her husband and is residing in Nevada.”

“Come on,” Tragg said, “get to the point, Mason.”

“Yesterday noon while I was out at lunch, and while Della Street was also out at lunch, a woman came to my office — a woman wearing large dark glasses, who said her name was Mrs. Hastings and that she would wait until I returned from lunch. She waited in the outer office for a few minutes and then left rather hurriedly, saying she would return but she never returned.

“Sometime later in the afternoon we discovered a woman’s handbag or purse in the office and on making an inventory of that purse we found credit cards, driving licenses, etc., which established the ownership.”

“And it was Mrs. Hastings’ purse?”

“That’s right.”

“Then give it back to her,” Tragg said, “and— Oh-oh, now, wait a minute, Perry. You’re sneaking up on my blind side. Was there by any chance a gun in the purse?”

“There was.”

“A permit to carry it?” Tragg asked.

“No. Mrs. Hastings doesn’t carry the gun. The last time she saw it, it was in the drawer of a bedstand in her apartment.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Tragg interrupted. “Had that gun been fired?”

“Twice.”

“All right,” Tragg said, “come clean, Perry. Where’s the corpse that goes with the gun?”

“I don’t know that there is any. However, naturally, I’m worried.”

“You should be. Where can I find Mrs. Hastings? What’s her address in Las Vegas?”

“Her address is 721 Northwest Firston Avenue, but as it happens, she is in my office at the present time. We have been discussing the situation and she feels that something should be done. I felt it would be advisable to notify you, in case you wanted to take a look at the evidence or—”

Tragg’s voice was as crisp as a cold lettuce leaf. “All right, Mason, what does she say about the gun having been fired?”

“She knows nothing about it,” Mason said. “Her handbag and her keys were stolen, and then the gun was stolen. Moreover, she was not the woman who left the handbag in my office. It was some other woman using her name.”

Tragg said, “Why not call the Las Vegas police in case those bullets found a mark in human anatomy somewhere? The body is probably in Nevada.”

“That’s my thinking,” Perry Mason said, “but I thought I should notify you because so many times you complain that I have concealed evidence and that has hampered your investigation.”

“It’s a crime to conceal evidence,” Tragg commented.

“I realize that.”

“And that,” Tragg said, “is why you’re calling me up now. You wanted to clear your own skirts.”

“I thought you should know.”

“Well, why not call the Las Vegas police?”

“Perhaps I should,” Mason said, “but since they’re in an entirely different jurisdiction I felt that I would first discharge my responsibility by notifying you.”

“All right,” Tragg said, “you’ve notified me. Thanks a lot. I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks for calling, Mason. Good-by.”

Mason dropped the receiver into the cradle, turned to Adelle Hastings and said, “Tragg will probably be up here just as quick as a siren and the red light on an automobile can get him here. Now, you’re going to have to answer questions. If you have told me the truth, answer Tragg’s questions fully, fairly and frankly. If you haven’t told me the truth, just say that you have no statement to make. Don’t, under any circumstances, try to lie to Lieutenant Tragg.”

“I understand.”

“You weren’t the woman who was in this office yesterday?”

“No.”

“You didn’t leave that handbag here?”

“No.”

“You didn’t fire that gun?”

“No.”

“You left your revolver in your apartment and last saw it there?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re lying to me,” Mason said, “it could very well mean a life sentence or perhaps the death penalty.”

“I’m not lying to you.”

Mason nodded to Della Street. “Call Paul Drake.”

Della Street put through the call, nodded to Perry Mason.

Mason picked up the telephone. “How are you coming, Paul?”

“I’ve got six women,” Drake said, “and as of now they’re getting pretty impatient.”

“You won’t have to hold them much longer. You have dark glasses for them?”

“Yes.”

“Big ones?”

“I’ll say they’re big.”

“All right,” Mason said, “sit tight. You’ll have action within five to ten minutes.”

“How long will it take?” Drake asked. “They want to know.”

“It won’t take over a couple of minutes,” Mason said. “Within twenty minutes from now they can go home. stick around and wait for the signal, Paul. When you get it, act promptly.”

Mason hung up and turned to Adelle Hastings. “Put your dark glasses in the case in your handbag. Have them so you can get them at a moment’s notice. Now, when Lieutenant Tragg comes here, don’t pay the slightest attention to anything that I say. That is, don’t let it confuse you.”

“What makes you think this officer is going to come here, Mr. Mason? From what I gathered in listening to your end of the telephone conversation there was nothing that he considered very urgent.”

Mason said, “I’m putting two sets of two and two together and making two fours, Mrs. Hastings. Then I’m putting those two fours together and making eight.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Did you tell Simley Beason that you were going to be here?” Mason asked.

“Yes. I told him I’d call him later but that I was trying to get an appointment with you and he could reach me at your office in case there was anything real important.”

“Did you tell him—”

Mason broke off as the telephone rang.

Della Street picked up the instrument, said, “Yes, Gertie... Just a moment, please.”

Della Street turned to Mason and said, “A Mr. Beason is calling Adelle Hastings.”

Mason indicated the telephone instrument to Adelle Hastings. “Want to take the call here,” he asked, “or in the law library?”

“Why, I’ll take it here,” she said.

She picked up the telephone, said, “Hello, Simley. This is Adelle. You... What! WHAT!!.. Oh, my God!.. No... You’ve... you’ve notified the police?... Good heavens... There’s nothing I can say. This is a terrific shock!.. Look, Simley, I’ll be in touch with you later. I— Oh, I just can’t adjust myself to— Well, thanks for letting me know... Yes, of course you can tell the police where I am, but if it’s all right with Mr. Mason I want to go out there right away... I— Well, yes... yes, you can tell them. Perhaps that will be best, after all. Thanks for letting me know, Simley.”

She hung up and turned to Mason. “My husband,” she said, “has been murdered!”

“Surprised?” Mason asked.

“I... I guess subconsciously I’ve been fearing it, Mr. Mason, but the— This information has knocked me for a loop.”

Mason said, “You may not have much time. You’d better tell me what he told you.”

“He went out there and let himself into the house. My husband was in bed. He’d been shot twice in the head, apparently while he was asleep. He’s — .. he’d been dead for some time.”

Adelle Hastings started to cry.

Again the telephone rang.

Della Street answered and said to Mason, “Huntley Banner is calling. Do you want to talk with him?”

“Right now,” Mason said.

He picked up the telephone, said, “Hello, Banner. This is Mason. What’s on your mind this morning?”

“About that property settlement,” Banner said. “I wanted to check with you and see what the situation was.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” Mason said, “Mrs. Hastings is in my office right now. I’m not much of a horse trader, Banner, and I’d like to know just how high you’re prepared to go.”

“I gave you the figure yesterday.”

Mason said, “Look, Banner, when I’m negotiating a settlement of a lawsuit or property matters between husband and wife, I make it an inflexible rule to reject the first offer that is made by opposing counsel.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Banner said, “Well, what about the second offer?”

“That,” Mason said, “depends on the counsel, the amount of the offer, the tone of voice in which it’s made and a few other considerations. Now, let’s forget this business about what you are prepared to advise your client to do and tell me the most he’s willing to do. Make your top offer and make it now. I’ll either give you an acceptance or a rejection within thirty minutes. If it’s a rejection we won’t do any more negotiating. We’ll go to court. I want your top figure.”

“You had it yesterday,” Banner said.

“No, I didn’t,” Mason told him. “Give me your top figure now.”

“I gave you my top figure yesterday,” Banner said. “That is, that was all I was authorized to offer. I would have to call my client and get authorization if I’m to go any higher.”

“Call your client then,” Mason said.

“You’re going to be there in your office for a while?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call you right back,” Banner said.

Mason hung up, looked at his watch and said, “We can expect Tragg in about three to five minutes. Mr. Banner is going to call me back as soon as he has conferred with his client.”

“You didn’t tell him that Garvin was... had been...?”

“No,” Mason said. “Let’s put Mr. Huntley L. Banner to the test and see just how he works.”

There was a period of tense, expectant silence. Then the telephone rang and Della Street, picking it up, said, “Mr. Banner again.”

Mason picked up his own telephone, said, “Yes, Banner.”

“I got my client on the phone, Mason. I put the situation up to him just as you had put it up to me. I told him that you weren’t satisfied with the best offer he had authorized me to make, that you were a fighter and you didn’t want to do any horse trading. I told him that if that was his top offer to let me know and we’d prepare to go ahead and fight, that if he wanted to make any higher offer under the circumstances to tell me what it was and to give me his top figure.”

“And what happened?” Mason asked.

“Well, when he found that you were going to be representing his wife he thought the matter over and told me that he’d been giving the whole thing quite a bit of consideration, that he was prepared to make a figure that would be his top figure and that you could either accept it or reject it, that it was as high as he was going to go.”

“How much was it?” Mason asked.

“It was a rather substantial increase,” Banner said. “Frankly, I was very much surprised, Mr. Mason.”

“How much was it?” Mason asked.

“One hundred thousand dollars, payable at the rate of ten thousand dollars a year for ten years plus fifty thousand in his will,” Banner said. “And that really knocked me off the Christmas tree because he had told me yesterday that fifty thousand dollars was as high as he would go, no matter what happened.”

“You’re sure your figures are correct now?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“You were talking with Hastings?”

“Yes.”

“No question about it?” Mason said. “There won’t be any backing up or any question that you didn’t recognize his voice or were talking with someone else?”

“Look here, Mason, I’m an ethical attorney. I don’t do business that way. I’ve been doing Mr. Hastings’ business for some time now. I know his voice and I was talking with Mr. Hastings personally, and that’s his top offer. Now, do you want it or not?”

Mason said, “Congratulations on the neatest trick of the week, Banner.”

“What do you mean?” Banner asked.

“Your client,” Mason said, “has been dead for more than twenty-four hours.”

During the silence at the other end of the line, Mason hung up.

Della Street’s telephone suddenly exploded into a series of short, sharp rings, Gertie’s signal that a police officer had entered the outer office and was on his way in without waiting to be announced.

Mason said to Adelle Hastings, “Here it comes. Get ready.”

The door of the inner office opened abruptly and Lt. Tragg stood in the doorway surveying the occupants of the office with skeptical eyes.

“I take it you’re Mrs. Garvin S. Hastings,” he said, tilting his black hat slightly, studying the shaken client.

“Come in and sit down, Lieutenant,” Mason said, “and there’s no need leading up to a dramatic period of questioning in which you try to get Mrs. Hastings to betray herself. She knows now that her husband is dead. She received a telephone call from her husband’s office manager just a few minutes ago. He advised her that her husband had been shot, and had evidently been dead for some time. He also advised her he was notifying the police. She told him to tell the police she was here.”

“So then you called me with this story about the gun and the lost bag?” Tragg asked, his shrewd eyes suddenly shifting from Adelle Hastings to Perry Mason.

“This call,” Mason said, “was after I had notified you about the bag.”

“How long after?”

“Several minutes.”

“And I take it you have witnesses to prove it.”

“I certainly do. I hope you kept a record of the time my call came in.”

“Pretty shrewd,” Tragg said thoughtfully, as though talking to himself. “Pretty damned shrewd!”

He suddenly shifted his eyes to Adelle Hastings. “All right, Mrs. Hastings, you now know your husband is dead. You know that he’s been shot. Do you know that the shots were fired from the gun that was in your purse?”

“No.”

“But you weren’t too surprised to learn he had been murdered?”

“I was... I was shocked.”

“Mr. Mason tells me that you lost your handbag or it was stolen.”

“It was stolen.”

“Where?”

“In Los Angeles. It was stolen from the seat of my automobile. I ran in to a drugstore just long enough to get a package of cigarettes and— Heavens, I didn’t have my back turned on the automobile for more than thirty seconds. Someone just grabbed my purse.”

“You’re certain it was done then?”

“That was the only time it could have been taken.”

“When did you miss it?”

“Not until I arrived at my house here. I wanted my key. The handbag, change purse and keys were gone. I had to ring the bell so my husband could let me in.”

“What else did you have in this bag of yours?”

“Quite a variety of things, such as a woman usually carries. Keys, identification cards, credit cards, lipstick, cigarettes—”

“I thought you said you were out of cigarettes,” Tragg interrupted harshly.

“I’m talking about what I usually carry in the bag.”

Tragg whirled abruptly to Perry Mason. “You found the bag in your office?”

“Yes.”

“Made an inventory of the contents?”

“Yes.”

“What about cigarettes?”

Mason kept his eyes steady on Tragg’s. “There was a half-filled package of cigarettes in the bag.”

Tragg’s eyes swiveled back to Adelle Hastings. “That pretty well disposes of your story about being out of cigarettes,” he said.

“It does nothing of the kind,” Mason interposed. “A thief could have put cigarettes in the bag without the slightest difficulty.”

“Then it’s your theory that the thief came here?” Tragg asked Mason.

Mason said, “It’s my theory that the thief came here. Mrs. Hastings said she wasn’t in the office.”

“When did you first talk with her?”

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.”

“You took quite an interest in this handbag, didn’t you?”

“There was a fairly good-sized sum of money in it,” Mason said.

“How much?” Tragg asked.

“Three thousand, one hundred and seventeen dollars and forty-three cents.”

“What time was it when you came here?” Tragg asked Adelle Hastings.

“I didn’t come here,” she said.

Tragg turned to Mason. “You were out for lunch?”

“Yes.”

Tragg turned back to Della Street. “What about you, Della?”

“I also was out for lunch.”

“Who was at the desk in the reception office — Gertie?”

“That’s right.”

“And what does Gertie say?” Tragg asked Mason.

“Gertie described the woman who came in, but it was only a very general description. Gertie was reading. She only gets the names of clients who come in and then notifies Della Street. Della is the one who takes their addresses and gets an outline of what they want to see me about. Since Della was out for lunch, Gertie simply asked the caller her name.”

“And what name was given?”

“That of Mrs. Hastings.”

“Let’s get Gertie in here,” Tragg said. “I’ll talk with her myself.”

“Now, just a minute,” Mason said. “Gertie hasn’t seen Adelle Hastings. Mrs. Hastings came in through my private office door. Gertie hasn’t seen her.”

“So much the better,” Tragg said. “We’ll see if she can identify Mrs. Hastings.”

“Now look,” Mason said, “that’s not fair.”

“Not fair to whom?”

“Not fair to Mrs. Hastings. She can’t identify her.”

“Why not?”

“When this woman came in the office she was wearing dark glasses. She came in at a time when Gertie was more or less preoccupied, and...”

A sudden idea struck Lt. Tragg. He turned to Adelle Hastings. “You’ve got dark glasses?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

“Put them on. I want to see how you look.”

Mason nodded to Della Street.

Della Street dialed the number of Paul Drake’s office, gave the prearranged signal and hung up.

So intent was Lt. Tragg on watching Adelle Hastings open her purse, take out dark glasses and put them on that he didn’t pay any attention to Della’s call.

“Stand up,” Tragg said.

Adelle Hastings stood up.

“That’s fine,” Tragg said. “Now, that’s the way we’ll do it. We’ll have Mrs. Hastings go out in the corridor through this door. Then she’ll walk into the reception office without saying a word. Gertie will be there. No one will say a word. Now, if Gertie says, ‘You left your purse here yesterday, Mrs. Hastings,’ or something of that sort, then we’ll have an absolute identification.”

“The hell we will,” Mason said. “That’s no way to make an identification.”

“Why not?”

“Gertie knows nothing about there being any question of identification. She would identify anyone who came in the office with dark glasses on. You would yourself. She’ll look up, see the dark glasses, and since those will be the most prominent thing that will catch her eye she’ll jump to a conclusion and—”

Tragg said, “Do you want to adopt the position that you’re going to refuse to allow your client to make a test of this sort?”

“No,” Mason said reluctantly, “I don’t want to refuse but I don’t think it’s fair.”

“Well,” Tragg said, “we’re going to do it that way whether you think it’s fair or not. Come on, Mrs. Hastings, you’re going to go with me.”

Mason sighed. “All right, Mrs. Hastings,” he said, “I guess Lieutenant Tragg has the whip hand here. Go with him.”

Tragg opened the door to the corridor from the outer office, bowed to Mrs. Hastings and said, with his shrewd smile, “You first, my dear.”

Adelle Hastings stepped out into the corridor.

Tragg motioned Mason to come along with them.

“I want you to come along, Perry. I don’t want you to say anything. Just hang back where you won’t be in the way, but I want to be sure you aren’t giving anyone any signals. And you, too, Della. I’m going to ask you to come along.”

It was only after Mason and Della had followed Tragg’s instructions that Tragg noticed the crowd of women in front of the door of Mason’s reception room.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Tragg asked. “You having a delegation call on you or something?”

“We’ll go take a look,” Mason said.

“First,” Tragg said, “we’ll just let Mrs. Hastings—”

He broke off as the young women turned at the sound of his voice and Tragg saw they were all wearing dark glasses.

“What the hell!” Tragg said.

Della Street gave a signal and one of the young women opened the door of the reception office and started in.

Tragg hurried down to the group, forgetful at the moment of Mrs. Hastings.

“Here, here,” he said, “I want to find out who you folks are and what you’re doing here.”

Mason said to Adelle Hastings in a low voice, “Hurry along and mingle with the group.”

Tragg reached the entrance door just in time to hear Gertie’s voice saying, “Oh, hello! What happened to you yesterday? You left your purse and...”

Gertie’s voice trailed away into amazed silence as she saw that the woman she was addressing was followed by another woman wearing dark glasses, then another and another.

Mason pushed Adelle Hastings along into the group and she entered with another woman.

Tragg forced his way into the office. “Now, just a minute,” he said, “just a minute. Gertie, have you seen one of these women before?”

“I— Why, I thought... I don’t know.”

“Now, let’s be careful about this,” Tragg said. “One of these women came in here yesterday. Which one was it?”

Gertie said, “I thought it was this one,” pointing with her finger. “When she came in just now I started to ask her what happened yesterday after she left the office. I wanted to tell her she had left her purse here, but now... now I just don’t know.”

“All right,” Tragg said wearily, “line up, you folks. Get in a line there against the wall, all of you.”

Mason said, by way of explanation, “This is Lieutenant Tragg of the police. If you’ll just do as he says for a moment you won’t need to stay any longer than that.”

The women lined up.

“Which one?” Tragg asked Gertie.

Gertie said, “I don’t know. I thought it was the one who came in first but now I just don’t know.”

“All right,” Tragg said, “you can go, all of you.”

Mason glanced meaningly at Adelle Hastings, who was in the line. “All of you can go,” he said. “All of you.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Tragg said, “I want Mrs. Hastings to stay.”

“All right,” Mason said, “which one is Mrs. Hastings?”

“Don’t pull those tricks on me,” Tragg said.

“Pick her out if you want her,” Mason said.

Tragg said, “You’re talking to an officer, Perry. Don’t try those tricks.”

He moved forward and unerringly placed his hand on Mrs. Hastings’ elbow. “You stay here,” he said.

Mason said, “We’ll go back to my office, Mrs. Hastings,” and led the way down the corridor.

“What the hell were you trying to do,” Tragg said, “make a monkey out of me? Did you think I couldn’t pick Mrs. Hastings out of that group? Did you think I’d talk with her without noticing the clothes she was wearing? The color of her hair? The shape of her shoulders?”

“No,” Mason said, smiling, “you didn’t have any trouble picking her out. That’s all I needed to convince any jury that the test was a fair one.”

Tragg looked at him in exasperation. “Sometimes,” he said, “I’m tempted to forget the fact that J like you personally, and take official action against you. I should have known better than to have stuck my head into that trap.”

“That wasn’t a trap,” Mason said, “that was a line-up. Any person who is being identified is entitled to a line-up.”

“Then why didn’t you wait until we could have one down at police headquarters?”

“Because,” Mason said, “you weren’t going to wait for a line-up. You were going to trick Gertie into making an identification on the strength of mental suggestion and a pair of dark glasses.”

Mason unlocked and opened the corridor door to his inner office and held it open for Adelle Hastings, Tragg and Della Street to walk through.

“I’m not that naive,” Tragg said. “You had fixed it up with Gertie in advance so that she would identify the first person through that door. If I’d used my head I’d have stopped that bunch of women and seen that Adelle Hastings went through the door first.”

“I haven’t said a word to Gertie about it,” Mason said. “That would be unethical, unprofessional and illegal. I haven’t tampered with the witness, I haven’t tried to influence her testimony in any way. Gertie is truthful and she will swear to it and what’s more, Della will swear to it.”

Tragg said wearily, “All right, all right. There was a gun in that purse?”

“There was a gun in that handbag,” Mason said.

“Where is it?”

“In my upper right hand desk drawer.”

“Well, get it out and— No, you don’t, either. On second thought, just open the desk drawer. I’ll take charge of it myself.”

Mason opened a drawer in his desk, stiffened in amazed surprise, then pulled the drawer all the way out.

“I see,” Tragg said. “Another of your little surprises. This one won’t work, Perry. I want that gun. This is official.”

Mason glanced swiftly at Della Street.

She shook her head.

Mason picked up the office phone. “Gertie,” he said, “did you take a gun from a drawer in my office?”

“What? A gun? Heavens, no. I haven’t even been in your office all morning. Della was the first one at the office this morning. She knows I haven’t been in there.”

“Thanks,” Mason said, and hung up the phone. He turned to Tragg. “This is beginning to take on a very sinister aspect,” he said. “It is now apparent someone is tampering with evidence and trying to frame Mrs. Hastings.”

“I see,” Tragg said. “Was the missing gun the fatal gun?”

“I don’t know,” Mason said.

“If it was not the fatal gun,” Tragg pointed out, “the disappearance was not necessary.”

“Why not?” Mason demanded. “In that way Mrs. Has. tings is placed in a dangerous situation. Until we have that weapon we can’t establish her innocence.”

“I see,” Tragg said. “And doubtless you feel that until we have it we can’t establish her guilt.”

Mason shook his head. “Tragg, do you think I’d be foolish enough to tamper with evidence?”

Tragg smiled. “Let’s put it this way. I think you’d be daring enough to do anything you could get away with. Do you have the number of the gun you took from that purse?”

Mason shook his head. “As soon as I saw the gun had been fired I put it in that drawer. I was handling it with a handkerchief but even so I didn’t want to have it in my hands. It was a thirty-eight Smith and Wesson.”

Tragg turned to Adelle Hastings. “All right, Mrs. Hastings, now we’ll have your story. Start at the beginning. When did you see your husband last?”

“I spent the night there.”

“Last night?”

“No. The night before last.”

“And what were you doing there if you were establishing a residence in Nevada and planning to get a divorce?”

“It was a friendly divorce action. My husband was putting up the money for me to establish my residence and— He was a very warmhearted individual. I think our marriage would have been a success if it hadn’t been for other people who interfered.”

“Such as whom?” Tragg asked.

“Such as Huntley Banner, for one.”

“Who’s Banner?”

“An attorney who represented my husband.”

“In the divorce action?”

“In everything.”

“You hadn’t filed for a divorce yet?”

“No, I hadn’t established a residence as yet.”

“You remained friendly with your husband?”

“Yes.”

“How did you happen to come in to see him and spend the night there?”

“He wanted me to come in and talk with him about a property settlement. He said that Banner had some ideas about a property settlement agreement, that those ideas were quite cold-blooded. My husband said that he wanted to do the fair thing, that he wanted me to be satisfied and that he wanted us to part friends.”

“And you stayed the night there?”

“That’s right.”

“In the same bedroom...?”

“No, we had separated. I stayed in another bedroom. I was going to a hotel but Garvin said that was foolish, that he had a house with four empty bedrooms and I might just as well stay there.”

“Did you see him in the morning?”

“No.”

“The last you saw of him was when he said good night?”

“Yes.”

“You knew where his bedroom was, of course.”

“Don’t be silly, Lieutenant, I was married to the man for eighteen months.”

“What time did you leave there?”

“I got up early in the morning and slipped out the back door, got in my car and drove away.”

“To Las Vegas?”

“No, not to Las Vegas,” she said.

“Where?”

Mrs. Hastings hesitated, said at length, “I left the house. That’s all that needs to concern you at this time.”

“I want to know where you went,” Tragg said.

“If you don’t mind,” Adelle Hastings said, “I won’t say anything about where I went after I left the house until I’ve talked with Mr. Mason about it.”

“And if I do mind?” Tragg asked.

“I won’t say anything anyway.”

Tragg said, “I’m not going to book you for murder at the present time, Mrs. Hastings; and I’m not even going to take you to headquarters for questioning, but I don’t want you to leave town. Now, can we have a gentlemen’s agreement, Perry. You’ll agree to produce this woman for questioning at any time if I don’t take her to headquarters now?”

Mason turned to Adelle Hastings. “That means that you can’t go back to Las Vegas,” he said.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Forty-eight hours,” Tragg said.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll stay here.”

“Where will you stay?” Tragg asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll go to a hotel.”

“And you’ll keep in touch with Mason?”

“I’ll keep in touch with him.”

Tragg turned to Mason and said, “Now, as far as you’re concerned, Perry, the situation is a little different.

“If you tell me that you put that gun in the drawer in good faith, and that it’s disappeared and you don’t know what’s happened to it, that’s all right as far as I’m concerned. But I warn you, it isn’t going to be all right as far as the district attorney is concerned. Hamilton Burger is going to feel that this is another one of your hocus-pocus flimflams and he’s probably going to give you an ultimatum — either produce that gun or go before the grand jury.”

“I don’t care what Hamilton Burger thinks,” Perry Mason said. “I put that gun in this drawer in the desk.”

“And that drawer’s now empty,” Tragg said.

“That’s right.”

“Any other empty drawers in the desk?”

“No,” Mason said. “This is a drawer that I keep for urgent matters that are pending and demanding immediate attention.”

“That’s very fitting,” Tragg said significantly. “That gun is an urgent matter that is pending, and for your information it needs immediate attention.”

“I’m going to try to find out about it,” Mason said, “but after all, you know the locks on these doors aren’t designed to be burglar-proof. They’re made so that one master key will open any door on the floor.”

“And who has the master key?”

“The janitor, the cleaning woman — frankly, I don’t know. I’ll have to get in touch with the people in charge of the building and run it down.”

“You’d better run it down,” Tragg said over his shoulder as he nodded to Adelle Hastings and walked out.

Mason turned to Adelle Hastings. “Did you kill your husband?” he asked.

“No.”

“There are some things about your story that are highly fortuitous and rather suspicious.”

“I know it,” she said. “I can’t help it. I told you the truth. You can see what happened. Somebody deliberately framed me. Somebody stole my bag. From the bag this person got the keys to my apartment. Whoever stole the bag went back to my apartment, used the keys to get in the apartment, stole the gun and...”

“And used the gun to kill your husband?” Mason asked, as her voice trailed into silence.

“It looks that way.”

“Your husband was killed in bed, presumably while he was asleep.”

She nodded.

“That means,” Mason said, “that the murderer was someone who was in the house, someone he trusted.”

“Or someone who had a key to the house,” she said.

“All right,” Mason said, “you want to direct attention to the purse stealer but you have just told me that your husband kept a key to the house in his office so that if he should telephone and want someone to go and get something out of the house there wouldn’t be any hitch.”

Again she nodded.

“Now then,” Mason said, “that means anyone in the office could have taken a key and gone to the house. How many people are in the office?”

“There must be twenty or thirty people employed there altogether.”

“All of whom would have access to the key?”

“No. The key is kept in a closet, and the key to the closet is supposed to be kept in the desk of the manager.”

“Then, if your husband should telephone the office and want someone to go out and get some papers or something from his house, the manager would have to go?”

“No, no, not the manager, but the manager would take the key and give it to the person who was being sent out.”

“And who would that be?”

“It might be anyone. It might be the office boy, or one of the secretaries.”

“And,” Mason said, “while that person had the key there’s nothing whatever to prevent him or her from stopping in at a key shop and having a duplicate made.”

“Yes,” she said, “I suppose so, except that the people in the office are presumably people my husband can trust.”

“You acted as secretary for your husband before you were married?”

“Yes.”

“He was a bachelor?”

“No.”

“He had been married before?”

“Yes.”

“A widower?”

“No, he was divorced.”

“And what happened to the first wife?”

“She was the second wife,” Adelle Hastings said. “The first wife died. The second wife— Well, there was a divorce.”

Mason regarded her thoughtfully. “The divorce cleared the way for you two to marry?”

“Yes.”

“Who got the divorce?”

“The wife.”

“Friendly?”

“Definitely not.”

“Were you by any chance named as corespondent?”

“Yes.”

“Where was the divorce obtained?”

“Nevada.”

“Las Vegas?”

“No, Carson City.”

“How long ago?”

“About nineteen months.”

“And as soon as the divorce decree was signed, you and Mr. Hastings married?”

“Yes.”

“Now then,” Mason said, “this wife, this divorcee, what about her? Has she forgotten about it and remarried, or—”

“Forgotten about nothing,” Adelle Hastings snapped. “She hates the ground I walk on. She’d do anything she could to make trouble. That’s the reason I... well, I— Well, ever since this business came up of the gun being planted in my bag I’ve been wondering about her.”

“Where is she living now?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s her name?”

“Hastings. She hasn’t remarried.”

“I mean her first name.”

“Minerva Shelton Hastings, and she’s one of the most scheming, two-faced little hypocrites I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Was she in love with Garvin Hastings?”

“Minerva Shelton Hastings has only one real love in her life, and that is Minerva Shelton Hastings. She is selfish, cold-blooded, scheming, grasping, cunning, two-faced—”

“Did she love Garvin Hastings?”

“She loved the thought of getting some money.”

“And I take it she got some money?”

“She certainly did.”

“What was Garvin Hastings worth?”

“Heavens, I don’t know. He had properties scattered all over. He must be worth two or three million dollars.”

“How much of a settlement did Minerva get?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“Cash?”

“Spot cash.”

“Then if she didn’t love Garvin,” Mason said, “and she got a good settlement, there’s no reason why she should feel bitter toward you.”

“Oh, yes there is. She had her hooks into him and if it hadn’t been for me she’d have had every cent by this time.”

“How?”

“She’d have poisoned him.”

“You mean she’d have committed murder too—”

“Mr. Mason, don’t misunderstand me. Minerva would stop at nothing. She’s ambitious, audacious, cunning, daring and ingenious.”

“Then this whole deal is about the type of thing she would have engineered?”

Adelle Hastings nodded.

“But why?” Mason asked.

“To revenge herself on me.”

“You mean she’d go to all that trouble and work out that elaborate scheme in order to get even with you?”

“If I were serving a term in prison,” Adelle said, “Minerva would be going around with a smile stretching from ear to ear.”

Mason said, “There may be more to it than that. Did Garvin make a will while she was married to him, perhaps leaving everything to her?”

“Yes.”

“He revoked that will by making a later one?”

“He told me he was going to.”

“When?”

“A few days after we were married.”

“Now then, in the settlement that was offered me by Huntley Banner,” Mason said, “there was a proviso that you were to receive fifty thousand dollars under Garvin’s will, as a beneficiary for that amount.”

She nodded.

“Therefore,” Mason said, “it was intended that your husband would put this in his will.”

“Yes, of course. After I had divorced him, he naturally wasn’t going to have me as the sole beneficiary.”

“But that will hadn’t been executed as yet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know if he had executed the other will in your favor?”

“Only that he said he was going to do it. He certainly wouldn’t leave the old will in effect.”

Mason said, “In any event your marriage to him would invalidate that other will — provided your marriage was legal.”

“Of course it was legal. Why do you raise the question?”

Mason said, “It’s the curse of the so-called legal mind. You think of all the possibilities. Why did your marriage go on the rocks?”

“He... I... well, he was quite a bit older than I am.”

“How much?”

“Fifteen years.”

“You knew that at the time you were married.”

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t make any difference then?”

“Mr. Mason, it’s very painful for me to have to go into all this, but I was Garvin’s confidential secretary. He married Minerva. Gradually he began to find out what a scheming, selfish, cold-blooded, dangerous woman Minerva was. It was only natural that he started confiding in me and that I should sympathize with him and well, I guess we both were swept along into a situation that— Well, where we were both somewhat hypnotized by circumstances and then gradually we began to realize that a sympathetic understanding had been misinterpreted and magnified and made the basis of a romantic attachment. Mr. Mason, I’m not going to talk about this any more. That’s a closed chapter in my life.”

“You may think it’s a closed chapter,” Mason said, “but before you get done with this thing the book is going to be opened, that chapter is going to be held up to the attention of the public and the pages are going to be ripped out one by one and spread across the front pages of the metropolitan newspapers.”

She looked at him with sheer panic in her eyes, abruptly got to her feet.

“Mr. Mason,” she said, “I’m going to a hotel. I’ll telephone you and let you know where I am.”

“All right,” Mason said, “do that. Be sure now you don’t try to leave town or conceal yourself in any way, because if you do it will give the prosecution just the ammunition it’s looking for. In this state, flight can be construed as an evidence of guilt, and they’d just love to have you start trying to hide.

“That’s the real reason that Tragg didn’t take you into custody or take you in for questioning. He put you on your honor to stay here in the city, hoping that the pressure would build up and you’d resort to flight, or at least start back for Nevada. Then they’d stop you just before you had crossed the state line and bring you back under arrest, and claim that was evidence of flight.”

“And evidence of flight can be used against a person?”

“Yes. It’s considered evidence of guilt.”

“Thank you for telling me,” she said. “I promise you that I won’t make a break for it.”