The Case of the Fabulous Fake

14

On his return to his office, Mason sent for Paul Drake.

“How does it look?” Della Street asked.

Mason shook his head. “The little fool!”

“What’s she done now?”

“Lied to me. Used her judgment in place of mine. Probably left a back trail that the police can follow, but still thinks she’s the smart little mastermind that can get away with it.”

Drake’s knock sounded on the door and Mason nodded to Della.

She opened the door.

“What is it this time?” Drake asked.

“I’m afraid,” Mason said, “this is an end to your well-cooked restaurant meals, Paul. I’m afraid you’re going back to sitting at the desk during long hours and eating soggy hamburgers which have been sent in from the drive-in on the next corner.”

“What now?” Drake asked.

Mason said, “Diana Douglas.”

“What’s she done now?”

“I don’t know,” Mason said.

“Well, if you don’t, I don’t know who would.”

Mason said, “I can tell you what the police think she did. The police think she went to the Tallmeyer Apartments on Thursday afternoon, that she went up to the ninth floor, had a conference with Moray Cassel, that Moray Cassel was trying to blackmail her, or perhaps her brother.”

“But she paid off?” Drake asked.

“She paid off with a twenty-two-caliber revolver, shooting a particularly powerful brand of twenty-two cartridge.”

“And they recovered the bullet?” Drake asked.

“Probably.”

“Striations?”

Mason shrugged his shoulders.

“How many times? I mean, how many shots?”

“One, as I understand the facts,” Mason said. “The man lived perhaps for some time, but he was unconscious and was unable to move. There was considerable hemorrhage.”

“How do they know it’s a twenty-two caliber?”

“Well,” Mason said, “I’ll amend that. They say it’s a small caliber. I think probably they mean by that it’s a twenty-two caliber. And the police claim that when little Miss Mastermind opened her purse and pulled out the gun she inadvertently jerked her BankAmerica credit card out.”

“Which the police have?”

“Which the police have.”

“And she claims the shooting was in self defense, or what?”

“She doesn’t claim. She’s silent.”

“Anybody see her go into the apartment?” Drake asked.

“I don’t know. She may have left a back trail that can be followed and proven. I’m only telling you what the police claim at the moment. The police claim that her BankAmerica credit card fell out of her purse on the floor without being noticed.”

“Fingerprints?” Drake asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mason said.

Drake regarded him shrewdly. “A good possibility they do have fingerprints?”

“Could be.”

“And you want me to find out?”

Mason said, “I want you to find out everything you can about the case, Paul. And particularly I want to find out about the victim, Moray Cassel.”

“Personal habits, friends, contacts?” Drake asked.

“Everything,” Mason said. “Paul, I sized that man up as some sort of a pimp. He’s the sort who is making a living out of women or off of women some way and he’s trying to disguise the rotten part underneath by a well-groomed exterior.

“Now, I’m particularly anxious to find out about his woman.”

“Woman, singular?” Drake asked.

“Well, let’s say women, plural,” Mason said, “because the guy may have more than one of them... And, of course, anything you can find out about the police case is something I want to know.”

“How soon do you want to know?”

“At once. Relay information just as soon as you can get it.”

“Costs?” Drake asked.

Mason said, “I think I can get costs out of my client, Paul, but I’m going to share the expense on this one, and if necessary I’ll carry the whole load.”

Drake raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Mason said, by way of explanation, “This case slipped up on my blind side, Paul. I gave a client the wrong advice right at the start.”

“Forget it!” Drake said. “You never made a legal mistake in your life.”

“I didn’t make a mistake in advising her in regard to the law,” Mason said, “but I made a mistake in letting her stick her neck way, way out; and then, notwithstanding the fact that I had been warned about her tendency to disregard a lawyer’s advice and do things on her own, I let her out of my sight during the most critical period of all.”

“When was that?” Drake asked.

“Confidentially,” Mason said, “it was probably the time Moray Cassel was being murdered.”

“Okay,” Drake said, heaving himself to his feet, “we’ll give you the usual trade discount and go to work, Perry.”