The Case of the Fabulous Fake

5

The Willatson Hotel was a commercial hotel which operated on a basis of live-and-let-live. Very little attention was paid to people who came through the doors, crossed the lobby, and walked directly to the elevator.

Perry Mason, however, felt it better to follow the procedure of being a total stranger.

He went to the desk, caught the eye of the clerk, and said, “Do you have a Miss Diana Deering registered here?”

“Just a moment.”

The clerk looked through a file and said, “Seven-sixty-seven.”

“Will you announce me, please?”

The clerk seemed bored. “What name?”

“She won’t know the name,” Mason said. “It’s in connection with a social-security inquiry. Tell her it has to do with thirty-six, dash, twenty-four, dash, thirty-six.”

The clerk said, “Very well,” picked up the phone, rang Room 767 and said, “A gentleman is here to see you in connection with an inquiry about a number. I believe it’s a social-security number... What’s that?... Very well, I’ll tell him if that’s your message.”

He turned to Mason, said, “She is having no social-security problems. You’ll have to give me a name or—”

Mason raised his voice and said, “You didn’t give her the number: thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six.”

The receiver suddenly made squawking sounds.

The clerk said, “It’s quite all right. She wants to see you. She heard you give the number over the telephone. You may go on up.”

The clerk hung up the telephone and returned to the task of bookkeeping with a manner of bored indifference.

Mason took the elevator to the seventh floor and knocked on the door of Room 767.

The young woman who had been in his office earlier in the week opened the door quickly, then fell back in amazement. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed. “You!”

“Why not?” Mason asked.

“How... how did you know where I was?... How did you know who I—”

Mason pushed his way into the room as she fell back, closed the door, walked over to a chair, and seated himself.

“Now, let’s talk a little sense for a change,” he said. “Your real name is Diana?”

“Yes.”

“Diana what?”

“Diana Deering.”

“Let’s try doing better than that,” Mason said.

“That’s my name, Mr. Mason. You ask down at the desk if you don’t believe it. That’s—”

“That’s the name you’re registered under,” Mason interrupted. “But that’s not your name. How about Diana Douglas of San Francisco? Would that do any better?”

For a moment her eyes showed dismay, then her face flushed. “I retained you as my attorney,” she said. “You’re supposed to help me, not to go chasing around trying to uncover things about my past, trying to cooperate with...”

Her voice trailed into silence.

“With the police?” Mason asked.

“No, not with the police,” she said. “Thank heavens, I haven’t done anything that violates the law.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Look here,” Mason said, “I’m an attorney. People come to me when they’re in trouble. I’m supposed to help them. You came to me and sneaked up on my blind side. I didn’t do a very good job of helping you. I’m sorry about that. That’s why I decided I’d better find you before it was too late.”

“You’re mistaken, Mr. Mason. I’m not in any trouble. I’m trying to... to protect a friend.”

“You’re in trouble,” Mason said. “Does the Escobar Import and Export Company know where you are?”

“I don’t know... They know that I’m away on personal business.”

Mason reached across her lap, picked up the black handbag.

“You leave that alone!” she screamed, grabbing his arm with both hands.

Mason kept his grip on the bag.

“Full of money?” he asked.

“That’s none of your business. I want to fire you right now. I wanted an attorney to protect me. You’re worse than the police. Let go of that bag. You’re fired!”

“Where did you get the money that’s in this bag?” Mason asked.

“That’s none of your business!”

“Did you, perhaps, embezzle it from the company where you worked?” the lawyer asked.

“Good heavens, no!”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!”

Mason shook his head. “Would it surprise you to know that the Escobar Import and Export Company called in an auditor to go over its books?”

Her face showed surprise, then consternation. Her grip on his arm weakened. “Why, why in the world — good heavens... they couldn’t.”

“That’s the information I have,” Mason said. “Now, suppose you do a little talking and try telling the truth for a change. What’s your capacity with the Escobar Import and Export Company? What do you do?”

“I’m a cashier and bookkeeper. I have charge of foreign exchange and foreign payments. I... Mr. Mason, there must be some mistake.”

Mason said, “Let’s look at basic facts. You come to my office. You have a bag that’s loaded with money. You—”

“How did you know about what’s in this bag?”

“My receptionist had a chance to see the inside of it,” Mason said. “It was loaded with bills.”

“Oh,” she said, and then was silent.

Mason said, “You put an ad in the paper indicating that you were here to pay off a blackmail demand. So, let’s put two and two together. You take an assumed name. You come to Los Angeles. You put an ad in the paper. You are dealing with a blackmailer. You have a large sum of money with you in the form of cash. The company where you work evidently feels some money is missing. It calls in an auditor.”

Diana sat silent. From the open window came noises of traffic from the street.

“Well?” Mason asked, after a while.

“It’s absolutely fantastic,” she said, removing her hands from Mason’s arm. “There’s — there’s nothing I can do.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Mason reminded her. “You’ve made it rather difficult for me so far. Perhaps if you tried telling me the truth I could put in my time helping you instead of running around in circles trying to cut your back trail... Now, did you embezzle that money?”

“Heavens, no!”

“How much money do you have in this bag in the form of cash?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Where did you get it?”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m going to tell you the truth.”

Mason settled back in his chair, said, “You’re a little bit late with it and I don’t know how much time we have, but go ahead.”

She said, “The whole thing happened when my brother was injured in an automobile accident. After they took him to the hospital I went to his room to get some things for him — shaving things and things of that sort that I thought he’d need in the hospital, and I found his bags all packed and a letter addressed simply ‘DEAR FUGITIVE.’ The letter said that the writer was fed up with waiting around; that either he should receive five thousand dollars by Tuesday night or other action would be taken.”

“How was the letter written?” Mason asked.

“In typing. It was all typed, even the signature.”

“And the signature was 36-24-36?”

“That’s right.”

“And the postmark?”

“Los Angeles.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Mr. Mason, my brother was unconscious in the hospital. I couldn’t let him down. I arranged to put an ad in the paper, just as the letter said I was to do, and came down here.”

“And the money?”

“My brother had the money in a briefcase in his apartment. He was all ready to go. Apparently, he was going to drive down. He had the briefcase with the money, a suitcase and an overnight bag.”

“And where did he get the money?”

“Mr. Mason, I... I don’t know.”

“Your brother works in the same company you do?”

“Yes.”

“Could he have embezzled the money from the company?”

“Mr. Mason, in the first place Edgar wouldn’t ever do anything criminal. In the second place, he wouldn’t have had access to the money. The cash is kept in a money safe in the vault. Only the top executives have the combination.”

“But you have it?”

“Yes, it’s my job to check the books on the cash — not every day, but twice a month I have to add up the withdrawal slips and see that everything balances.”

“Tell me a little more about Edgar,” Mason said.

“He’s young. He’s a year and a half younger than I am. He... our parents were killed five years ago. I’ve tried to help Edgar every way I could. He’s a sensitive individual who—”

“You’re both working for the Escobar Export and Import Company. Who got the job there first?”

“I did.”

“What about the company?”

“It engages in exports and imports just as the name indicates.”

“What kind of a company?”

“What do you mean?”

“A big company, a little company, a—”

“No, it’s pretty much of a one-man concern.”

“Who’s the big wheel?”

“Mr. Gage — Franklin T. Gage.”

“How many employees?”

“Oh, perhaps ten or fifteen altogether. There are five working full time in the office and an auditor and tax man.”

“Do I understand then there are others who work outside of the office?”

“Yes, there are scouts and buyers.”

“But nevertheless they are employees?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“How old a man is Franklin Gage?”

“Forty-something or other. Perhaps forty-five.”

“He runs the company?”

“Yes. He’s the big shot.”

“Who’s next in command?”

“Homer.”

“Homer Gage?”

“Yes.”

“His son?”

“His nephew.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How long after you started work there did your brother, Edgar, start work?”

“About six months.”

“And what was he doing during those six months?”

“He was doing nothing. He had been let out at the place where he was working. He became involved in a lot of office intrigue and— It’s too long a story to tell you.”

“Who supported him?”

“I did.”

“So then after six months, you got a job for him there at the company where you work... Who gave him the job, Franklin Gage or Homer?”

“Franklin.”

Mason regarded her shrewdly. “You didn’t talk to Homer about it?”

“I talked to Mr. Gage. Mr. Franklin Gage.”

“At the office?”

“No, I worked late one night and he said that I’d missed my dinner on account of working and that the company was going to buy my dinner.”

“So in the intimacy of that little dinner party you took occasion to tell him about your brother and asked him if Edgar could have a job?”

“Yes. Only you make it sound so very... so very calculating.”

Mason brushed her remark aside with a wave of his hand. “How did Homer react to that?”

“I didn’t ask Homer.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Mason answered. “I wanted to know how Homer reacted to it.”

“Well,” she said, “I think that Homer felt that we really didn’t need to take on Edgar at the time.”

“And what are Edgar’s duties? What does he do?”

“He’s a liaison man.”

“Now then,” Mason went on, “Edgar had been out of work for six months and you had been supporting him?”

“I’d been helping out. He had unemployment insurance and—”

“So where,” Mason interrupted, “did he get five thousand dollars in cash?”

“I... I just don’t know.”

“Not from you?”

“No.”

“Do you have five thousand dollars?”

“I... yes, I do.”

“More than that?”

“A very little more.”

“Where is it?”

“In savings banks.”

Mason took mental inventory of the situation, then said abruptly, “This Homer Gage, what’s his attitude toward you?”

“Friendly.”

“Very friendly?” Mason asked.

“I think he’d like to be.”

“Married or single?”

“Married.”

“Ever met his wife?”

“Not formally. She’s been at the office a couple of times to get checks cashed or something like that. She’s smart-looking... you know, very much on the ball. They say she’s a bitch.”

“Her husband steps out?”

“I wouldn’t know. I do know his married life isn’t happy.”

“You see him looking at the other girls in the office. Doubtless you’ve discussed him with the other girls. Does he keep them after hours?”

“I don’t know. I think perhaps... well, I just don’t know.”

“Does he step out?”

“I told you I wouldn’t know.”

“Does he step out?”

“All right, if you’re going to be insistent about it, I think he does, but I wouldn’t know.”

“And Homer’s had you stay after hours more than once?”

She hesitated, then said, in a low voice, “Yes.” Then added quickly, “You see the business is very, very unconventional. It’s a complicated deal of buying and selling in large lots, and quite frequently the deals are made on a spot-cash basis.

“This is particularly true in connection with Oriental goods. You see, we have to have a Certificate of Origin on goods which are taken out of Hong Kong, for instance, and... well, sometimes matters have to be handled with a great deal of diplomacy.”

“So sometimes you work late?”

“Yes.”

“And Homer has had you work late?”

“Yes.”

“And taken you out to dinner?”

“Twice.”

“And propositioned you?”

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Mason?”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you mean has he ever come out cold turkey with a proposition, the answer is ‘no’, but all men proposition you. They size you up. They look you over. They make a remark occasionally with a double meaning. They tell a story that’s a little broad. They are quick to follow up any opening... Mr. Mason, I don’t need to tell you how men are. They’re always on the lookout in an aggressive way, and if they get an opening they follow up and just keep pushing.”

“And Homer Gage has been like that?”

“He’s been like that. He isn’t going to come right out in the open and make any proposition and get rebuffed and perhaps have his uncle know what is happening and—”

“The uncle likes you?” Mason said.

“Yes, he does.”

“Married or single?”

“He’s a widower.”

“And how about him? Does he have the aggressive, masculine mannerisms?”

“No, no, Mr. Mason. Mr. Franklin Gage is very much of a gentleman. He is courteous and considerate and — well, he’s an older, more mature man and his attitude is...”

“Fatherly?” Mason ventured, as she hesitated.

“Well, not exactly fatherly. More like an uncle or something of that sort.”

“But he likes you?”

“I think so.”

“Very much?”

“I think so. You see, I am pretty good at adjusting myself in a business way and I have tried to do a good job there at the export and import. And Mr. Gage, Mr. Franklin Gage, knows it.

“In a quiet way he’s very nice to — to all of the girls who work in the office.”

“How many other than you?”

“Three.”

“Names?”

“Helen Albert, a stenographer; Joyce Baffin, a secretary-stenographer, but her duties are mostly of a secretarial nature — for Homer Gage; and Ellen Candler, who has charge of the mail and the files.”

“Suppose a person wanted to embezzle money from the company?” Mason said. “Would it be easy?”

“Very easy — too easy for those who had the combination to the cash safe. The company keeps large sums of money on hand. Occasionally it’s necessary to make deals on a completely cash basis with no voucher of any kind.”

“Bribery?” Mason asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Smuggling?”

“I don’t think it’s anything like that.”

“And how do you keep your books under those circumstances?” Mason asked.

“Well, there’s a certain amount of juggling with the cash so that the books are regular, but sometimes there are transactions which — well, it would be a little difficult to trace them.”

“So your brother could very easily have embezzled five thousand dollars to go to Los Angeles and pay off a blackmailer?”

“Mr. Mason, I tell you Edgar wouldn’t do that, and even if he had wanted to he couldn’t have done it. He doesn’t have the combination to the cash safe.”

“Who does have the combination?”

“Franklin Gage, Homer Gage, Stewart Garland, our income-tax man, and myself.”

“You found five thousand dollars in cash in Edgar’s apartment?”

“Yes. I’ve told you that two or three times. It’s the truth.”

“And you knew Edgar hadn’t had an opportunity to save that much out of his salary since he’d started work?”

“Well, yes.”

“Where did you think he got it?”

She said, “My brother is — well, he has friends. He’s very likable, very magnetic, and I think he has friends who would help him out in a situation of that sort... That’s what I thought.”

“All right,” Mason said, “let’s face it. You’re in a jam. You’ve come to Los Angeles under an assumed name. You’ve got five thousand dollars in cash. You’re mixed up with a blackmailer. Suppose the accounts at the Escobar Import and Export Company show a five-thousand-dollar deficit?”

Her hand went to her throat.

“Now, you’re getting the point,” Mason told her. “There’s only one thing for you to do. Get a plane back to San Francisco. Get into your office tomorrow morning.

“Now, do exactly as I say. If it turns out an auditor says there’s a five-thousand-dollar shortage, just laugh and say, ‘Oh, no, there isn’t.’ Tell the auditor that your brother was working on a company deal at the time of the accident; that you took out five thousand dollars to finance that deal; that Edgar asked you not to make an entry until he had had a chance to discuss the deal with Franklin Gage; that he thought it was going to be a good deal for the company but that you knew all about the five thousand dollars that he had and knew that it was company money.

“You go to a local bank this afternoon, deposit the five thousand, buy a cashier’s check payable to you as trustee. As soon as your brother recovers consciousness, you’ll see him before anyone else does... Make certain of that. As a member of the family you’ll have the right-of-way.

“Then you can use your own judgment.”

“But, Mr. Mason, this thing is coming to a head. It isn’t going to wait. This blackmailer — or whatever it is — this letter that my brother had was most urgent, imperative, demanding.”

“What did you do with that letter?”

“I burned it.”

Mason said, “There was an ad in the paper for you to make contact with a cab passenger at—”

“Heavens, how did you know about that?” she asked.

“We make it a point to read the personal ads,” Mason said. “Why didn’t you contact the man in the taxicab?”

“Because I didn’t like the looks of the thing. There were two passengers, a man and a woman. It was night, yet they both were wearing dark glasses. I thought it was a trap of some kind. I... well, I decided to pass it up. When I made contact I wanted it to be where there were no witnesses.”

“I see,” Mason said thoughtfully, then abruptly he walked over to the telephone, asked the switchboard operator for an outside line, and got Paul Drake’s office.

“Paul,” he said, “I want a female operative — blonde, twenty-two, twenty-three, or twenty-four, with a good figure — to come to the Willatson Hotel and go to Room Seven-sixty-seven.

“She can’t carry anything with her except a handbag. She can make purchases and have them sent in from the department stores where she buys. She’ll take the name of Diana Deering, which is the name of the present occupant of the room.”

“I know,” Drake said.

“She’ll masquerade as Diana Deering. She’ll make it a point to get acquainted with the bellboys, with the clerks as they come on duty. She can ask them questions. Inquire about a monthly rate on the room. Do anything which will attract attention to herself as Diana Deering. And quit tailing the real Diana.”

Drake said, “It happens that I have a girl who fits the description in the office right now, Perry. She’s Stella Grimes. She’s worked on one of your cases before, although I don’t know if you’ve seen her personally. The only thing is she’s a little older.”

“How much older?” Mason asked.

“Tut, tut,” Drake said, “you’re asking questions.”

“You think she can get by?”

“I think she can get by,” Drake said.

“Get her up here,” Mason told him.

“But what about me?” Diana asked when Mason hung up.

“You’re going to get that cashier’s check payable to you as trustee and then go back to San Francisco.”

“And what about my baggage?”

“You’ll have to wait for that.”

“How will I get it out of the hotel? Don’t they check people when you leave with baggage?”

“Sure they do,” Mason said, “but we’ll fix that.”

“How?”

“I’ll rent a room here at the hotel. I’ll try to get one on the same floor. We’ll move your baggage into that room. Then I’ll check out, carrying the baggage with me, go right to the desk, and pay the bill on that room. They’ll have no way of knowing that one of the suitcases I’ll have with me was taken from Room Seven-sixty-seven.”

“And what about this girl who is going to masquerade as me?”

“She’ll deal with the blackmailer.”

“And if I’ve turned the money in for a cashier’s check, what will we pay him — or her?”

“We won’t,” Mason said. “It’s against the policy of the office to pay blackmailers.”

“But what are you going to do? How can you avoid payment?”

“I don’t know,” Mason told her. “We’ll play it by ear. I wish to hell your brother would regain consciousness so we could find out what it’s all about... Get your suitcase packed.”

Tears came to her eyes. “Edgar’s a wonderful boy, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “I’m going down to a baggage store and get a suitcase. I’ll stuff it full of old paper, come back, and check into the hotel — somewhere on the seventh floor, if possible. I want you to wait right here. Promise me you won’t go out until I get back.”

“I promise.”

“And don’t answer the phone,” Mason warned.

“I... all right, if you say so.”

“I say so,” Mason told her.

The lawyer walked to the door, turned, smiled, and said, “You’ll be all right, Diana.”

Her eyes started to blink rapidly. “You’re wonderful,” she said. “I wish I’d told you all about it when I first came to your office.”

“You can say that again,” Mason told her. “We might have headed off that damned auditor. As it is now, you’re hooked.”

“What do you mean?”

“Figure it out,” Mason said. “We’re starting a little late. You’ve come to Los Angeles, registered in a hotel under an assumed name. You have a bag containing five thousand dollars in currency. And if the company where you work should happen to be short five thousand dollars, and if your brother should happen to die, and if you’re arrested before you get that cashier’s check — figure where you’ll be.”

Mason walked out as her mouth slowly opened. He closed the door gently behind him.