The Case of the Deadly Toy

Chapter Thirteen

Back in the cocktail lounge at the hotel where they had engaged the cab Mason said to Della, “I think those are our shadows over there.”

“Where?”

“The man and the woman in the corner. There have been surreptitious glances in our direction, and the man’s not as interested in her as he should be in an attractive woman companion who is being plied with liquor.”

“Why plied?” Della Street asked.

“It makes them pliable,” Mason said.

She laughed. “Ever try it?”

“What we need,” Mason told her, “is a red herring. Go to the phone booth, call Paul Drake and tell him we want a woman operative who is about twenty-seven blonde, rather tall, with a good figure, and a seven-year-old boy, well-dressed, quiet and dark.”

“Why do we want them?” she asked.

“Because,” Mason said, “we’re going to give Horace Selkirk’s detectives something to think about.”

“And what do they do?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “They move into the hotel where Horace Selkirk got the two connecting rooms for Grace Hallum and Robert Selkirk. Drake can fix them up with a passkey and they can move right into the hotel as though they owned the place. Tell Paul not to ever let them charge anything, but to pay cash for everything. The woman isn’t ever to sign the name of Grace Hallum. She’s simply to pay cash for everything.”

“But won’t the clerk know the difference? That is, won’t he—?”

“We’ll wait until the night clerk comes on duty,” Mason said, “then this operative and the boy will go into the hotel, take the key to 619 and 621, move in there and stay there.

“The woman is to keep the key to the room in her purse, never to go near the desk, never to say to anyone that she is Grace Hallum.”

Della Street thought the matter over, then said, “You don’t suppose they’ve got the line tapped here, do you?”

“I doubt it,” Mason said. “It’s a chance we’ll have to take. Just go to the phone and call Paul. I’ll keep an eye on the couple over there and see what they do.”

Ten minutes later when Della Street was back, Mason said, “They were certainly interested in your telephone call, Della, but they didn’t dare appear too curious. They’re wondering what kept us out of circulation for so long — how did Paul Drake react?”

“The same way you’d expect,” she said. “He agreed to do it, but he’s not happy about it.”

“Why isn’t he happy?”

“Says he’s violating the law.”

“What law?”

“What law!” Della Street asked. “Good heavens, here’s a woman who moves into some other woman’s room in a hotel, and—”

“What do you mean?” Mason asked. “She isn’t moving into any other woman’s room. Grace Hallum has left the hotel.”

“But she didn’t pay her bill.”

“The bill was already paid,” Mason said. “Horace Selkirk arranged for that, and even if she had left the hotel without paying the bill, she would have been the one who defrauded the hotel-keeper. Drake’s operative isn’t defrauding anybody.”

“But she’s moving into a room in a hotel.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “She’s prepared to pay for the accommodations. The hotel keeps its rooms for rental to the public.”

“But she didn’t register.”

“Is there any law that says she has to?”

“I think there is.”

“Grace Hallum didn’t register. She simply went and picked up the key. That means somebody had registered into those rooms and left instructions with the clerk that the key was to be delivered when a woman with a child asked for it.”

“Well,” she said, “Paul Drake wasn’t happy.”

“I didn’t expect him to be happy,” Mason said. “When you hire a detective you pay his price for services rendered. If he follows instructions, you can guarantee to keep him out of jail, but you can’t guarantee to make him happy.”