The Case of the Fabulous Fake

7

Mason stretched out in Room 767 at the Willatson Hotel. Despite himself he couldn’t refrain from glancing at his wristwatch every few minutes. Twice he got up and paced the floor.

The phone rang.

Mason snatched up the instrument. “Yes?” he said.

Diana Douglas’ voice said, “Mr. Mason, I’m frightened. Can I come down there and wait where I can be with you?”

“Definitely not,” Mason said. “Sit where you are. I’ll have instructions for you soon.”

“What do you mean by soon?”

“I hope within a few minutes.”

“I’m getting the heebie jeebies sitting here all by myself, Mr. Mason, just looking at the walls and... well, I feel that we aren’t accomplishing anything this way.”

“We’re accomplishing a lot more than you realize,” Mason said, “and it’s imperative that you follow instructions. Just sit tight.”

The lawyer hung up the telephone, walked over to the window, looked down at the street, came back to his chair, settled himself; then abruptly got up and started pacing the floor.

The doorknob suddenly turned. The door opened and Stella Grimes walked into the room.

“Any luck?” Mason asked.

“Lots of it,” she said, tossing a cardboard box on the bed.

Mason raised his eyebrows.

“Clothes,” she said. “I picked up a few necessities at the department store because I felt I might have to ride herd on this room. I just snatched up some things and had them wrapped up because I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“What happened?”

“Well,” she said, “I got your signal all right. You wanted him followed.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, of course, he knew me by sight. That complicated the job. I felt that the chances that he was living here in the hotel were rather slim. So I went down to the curb, hired a taxicab, and told the driver to just sit there until I told him I wanted to take off.

“Well, it was absurdly simple, so simple in fact that I feel that perhaps it may have been a frame.”

“What happened?”

“Our man had his own car, a Cadillac. He had given the doorman a substantial tip to park it for a few minutes in the loading zone. It must have been a pretty good-sized tip because when he came out the doorman was all attention. He ran over and held the car door open for Cassel and bowed his thanks as Cassel drove off.”

“You followed?”

“That’s right.”

“Get the license number?”

She took a notebook from her pocket and read off the license number, “WVM five-seven-four.”

“Could you tail him?” Mason asked.

“It was easy. He went to the Tallmeyer Apartments. Drove right into the garage in the basement of the apartment house and didn’t come out.”

“So what did you do?” Mason asked.

“I had my taxi driver drive three blocks to where a car was pulling out from the curb. I said, ‘Follow that car but don’t let him know he’s being followed.’ ”

“Good work,” Mason said.

“Well, of course, this driver got mixed up in traffic. We lost out on a traffic signal and I shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘Well, that’s the best we can do.’ Paid off the cab and took another one and came back here to the hotel. I didn’t want the cab driver giving me a double cross and tipping Cassel off, and, as it is, he thinks I’m some sort of a nut. At least, I hope he does.”

Mason picked up the phone, said to the operator, “Give me an outside line,” then gave the number of the Drake Detective Agency.

“Paul in?” he asked the switchboard operator.

“He just came in, Mr. Mason,” she said, recognizing his voice.

“Put him on, will you please?”

Drake’s voice came on the line, “Hello.”

“Perry Mason, Paul.”

“Where are you?”

“At the Willatson Hotel with Stella Grimes. She’s back now.”

“Doing any good?”

“I think we’ve struck pay dirt. I want to find out the owner of a Cadillac automobile, license number WVM five-seven-four, and if the owner lives at the Tallmeyer Apartments I’d like to try to find out a little bit about him without doing anything that would arouse suspicion.”

Drake said, “Della was asking if it’s all right to call you.”

“She’d best not,” Mason said. “I’ll call the office from time to time and see if there’s anything important. Was there something in particular on her mind?”

“I don’t think so, except that you had a few appointments she had to get you out of with a story about you being called out of town on important business.”

“I think that’s just what’s going to happen,” Mason said.

“On the square?”

“On the square... How long will it take you to find out about that car registration?”

“I can have that right quick.”

“I’ll call back,” Mason said. “Get on it as fast as you can.”

“How’s Stella doing?” Drake asked.

“Fine,” Mason said.

“Okay, if you want anything, just put in a call. It’ll cost you money, but you’ll get the service.”

“Will do,” Mason said, and hung up.

“Gosh, that guy was mad,” Stella said. “You really must have pinned his ears back!”

Mason grinned. “How did you know he was mad, Stella?”

“The way he walked, the way he looked, and the way he left himself wide open.”

“I guess he was disappointed,” Mason said. “He was expecting a soft touch.”

“I’ll bet he thought he’d run full speed into a brick wall instead,” she observed. “He certainly was one very mad citizen.”

The lawyer looked at his wristwatch. “Hold the fort a minute, Stella,” he said. “I’m going down the hall. If anything should happen that would complicate the situation hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside of the door. If Paul Drake phones while I’m down there tell him to call me in that room.”

Mason walked down to Room 789 and tapped on the door.

Diana Douglas threw the door open.

“Don’t do that!” Mason said.

“Do what?”

“Be so eager,” Mason said. “Don’t open that door until you find out who it is.”

“I’m all on edge,” she said. “I sit here and thoughts are running through my head. I just can’t take this waiting game, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “Listen very carefully, Diana. How much money do you have?”

“I told you, five thousand dollars.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I want to know how much you have outside of that.”

“I drew out six hundred dollars from my savings account when I left. I wanted to have enough to give you a retainer and—”

“The money that you gave me didn’t come out of the five thousand dollars then?”

“No.”

“You don’t have any idea on earth what this is all about? I want you to be frank, now.”

She lowered her eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s some kind of an indiscretion that Edgar — well, something he got himself mixed up with... Oh, you know how those rackets go, some kind of a badger game or photographs or— Why do ask me these questions, Mr. Mason?”

“Because,” Mason said, “I think we may be following a wrong trail, barking up a wrong tree. Tell me as much as you can about Edgar, only condense it.”

“Well,” she said, motioning for him to sit down, and seating herself on the edge of the bed, “Edgar is naïve. He’s — I won’t say he’s weak, but he is easily influenced, and I suppose I haven’t been of too much help to him trying to make things a little easier for him. I guess life wasn’t meant to be that way, Mr. Mason. I guess a man has to develop himself by having things made a little difficult at times instead of having someone whom he looks up to who can smooth things out and take some of the load off his shoulders.”

“That’s what I was coming to,” Mason said. “Do you think there’s anything in Edgar’s past that would have caused him to come to you with a sum of money and ask you to bail him out?”

“I just don’t know, Mr. Mason.”

“He could have been coming to you?”

“He could have been, but everything indicates he was going to come here to Los Angeles and try to deal with this thirty-six-twenty-four-thirty-six situation.”

“And you have no clue as to what that situation is?”

“No.”

“Your brother gambled from time to time?” Mason asked.

She chose her words carefully. “Edgar was impulsive.”

“He gambled from time to time?”

“Don’t all men?”

“He gambled from time to time?”

“Yes,” she flared. “You don’t need to cross-examine me like that. He gambled from time to time.”

“Where?”

“Where do men usually gamble? Sometimes he put two dollars on a horse. Sometimes he put ten dollars on a horse.”

“Las Vegas — Reno?”

“He would go to Las Vegas once in a while.”

“How much did he ever win?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he won much.”

“What was the most he ever lost?”

“Eight hundred dollars.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

“Why did he tell you?”

“Because I’m his sister.”

“Why did he tell you?”

“I told you,” she blazed back at him. I’m his sister. What are you doing, trying to break down my story?”

“Why did he tell you?” Mason asked.

“All right,” she said, lowering her voice, “I had to bail him out. He only had two hundred and I had to make good to the extent of six hundred dollars. He had given a check in Las Vegas and — well, you know how they are.”

“How are they?” Mason asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, but the story is that if you gamble on credit with professional gamblers you have to make good or else.”

“And Edgar was frightened?”

“Terribly frightened.”

“In other words,” Mason said, “I’m trying to establish a pattern. When Edgar gets into real trouble, he comes to you. You’ve been something of a sister and a mother to him.”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I guess that’s right.”

“So, if Edgar was in some trouble where he had to raise five thousand dollars, the assumption is he would have told you.”

“Unless he — well, it might have been something that he wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me about. You know, men can get into scrapes of that sort where they wouldn’t want their family to know just what had happened.”

“Who told you that?” Mason asked.

“Why, I... I’ve read it.”

“Ever talk with Edgar about anything like that?”

“No.”

“Know anything about Edgar’s sex life?”

“Virtually nothing.”

Mason regarded her thoughtfully. He said, “There’s a United Airlines plane leaving here for San Francisco at six twenty-seven. I want you to be on that plane.

“I’m going to escort you to the elevator. When you get into the lobby, walk across the lobby casually. Don’t look around as though you might be afraid someone was trying to follow you. We’ll walk two blocks down the street. There’s a taxi stand down there. I’ll put you in a cab. Go to the Union Station. When you get to the Union Station, try to make sure that you’re not being followed. Then go out, get a cab, and go to the airport. When you get to the airport, wait.”

“For what?”

“I’ll try to meet you just before you get on the plane. I’ll have your baggage. I’ll check out of the hotel within an hour or so. That’ll give me time to get to my apartment and pack a bag. I’ll take my bags and your suitcase and join you at the airport.”

“But what about this bag that has the — you know, the money in it?”

“The banks are closed now,” Mason said. “You’ve got to take a chance with that because I want you to be sure and have a cashier’s check made to you as trustee when you walk into the office in the morning.

“The minute the banks open in San Francisco, get that cashier’s check. Then go to the office just as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened. I’ll meet you there when you come in. That should be about ten-thirty. Let’s have that as the deadline. Don’t arrive before ten-thirty. Don’t be any later than that if you can avoid it.”

The telephone rang.

Mason said, “I think that’s for me.”

He picked up the instrument, said a cautious, “Hello.”

Drake’s voice, cheerfully routine, came over the line, “Hi, Perry. Got most of the information you want. It was like rolling off a log.”

“What is it?”

“The Cadillac you wanted is registered under the name of Moray Cassel, nine-o-six Tallmeyer Apartments. I’ve got that much. I haven’t been able to find out much about Cassel’s habits as yet, but he’s been a resident there for something over a year.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Mason said in an undertone.

“Something wrong?”

“The guy gave me his right name,” Mason said. “You could certainly have fooled me. I had him sized up as a blackmailing pimp, a damned good, prosperous, shrewd pimp.”

“And he isn’t?” Drake asked.

“That I’ll have to find out,” Mason said.

“You want him tailed?”

“No. The guy is either too dumb to be true or too smart to be trapped, and I want to find out which it is before I get my feet wet.”

“Okay, let me know if there’s anything else you want.”

“Will do,” Mason said, and hung up.

Diana, watching Mason with anxious eyes, said, “Is something wrong?”

Mason, frowning thoughtfully, let the question go unanswered for a few seconds, then said, “I don’t know. I seem to have made a mistake in sizing up a situation.”

“In what way?”

Mason said, “Thanks to good detective work on the part of the Drake Detective Agency, we have run the blackmailer to ground. His name is Moray Cassel. He drives a Cadillac automobile. He lives in the Tallmeyer Apartments, apartment nine-o-six. But when he came to call on us he gave us his real name. He had his Cadillac parked right in front of the door, having given the doorman a good tip to see that it was left where it would be readily accessible in the parking space reserved for incoming guests with baggage.”

“Well, what’s wrong about that?” Diana asked. “A lot of people who are on brief errands give the doorman a good tip to keep an eye on their cars. That’s the way the doormen make a living. They—”

Mason shook his head. “It isn’t that, Diana,” he interrupted. “The man simply wasn’t that kind of a citizen.”

“How do you know?”

Mason said, “Well, I have to admit that this is a time when I may have led with my chin, but I sized the man up as a pimp.”

“How, for heaven’s sake?”

“His appearance. His manner. Everything about him.”

“Mr. Mason, do you mean to tell me you can just take a look at a man like that, have a quick conversation with him, and know that he’s... well, what you call a pimp?”

“No,” Mason said at length, “I won’t go that far, Diana. And remember when I say the guy’s a pimp, I don’t mean that he’s actually engaged in pimping, I mean he’s that type of citizen. He’s one who would make his living out of representing a woman in a blackmail scheme.”

“But how in the world can you possibly tell? What is there about a man of that sort, the way he dresses, that... I just don’t get it.”

“It’s not any one particular thing,” Mason said. “It’s a combination of things. You take a man who’s making his living directly or indirectly out of women, and he knows there’s something wrong inside. He tried to cover it up. He tries to square himself with himself. He tries to put the best possible veneer on top of what’s underneath in order to hide the rotten part.

“So he goes in for a faultless personal appearance. His shoes are always shined. His trousers are sharply creased. He wears expensive shirts and ties. His nails are always well manicured. The skin of his hands is well cared for. His hair is cut, combed, and brushed so that it makes a flattering appearance in the mirror.

“Then there’s his voice. There’s something about it. A voice that isn’t used to carrying weight with the world in general but is sharply authoritative in dealing with a situation which he thinks he can handle. It lacks tone and timbre. You have the feeling that if he became enraged and flew off the handle his voice would rise to a sharp falsetto.”

“And this man, Cassel, had those points?”

“He had those points,” Mason said.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted money.”

“Did he say how much?”

“He wanted the bundle, five grand.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I stalled him along.”

“Did he go for it?”

“He didn’t like it.”

“Did he feel that you were—?”

“As I told you, he recognized me,” Mason said. “I’ve had my picture in the newspapers too often. He knew that he was dealing with Perry Mason, an attorney, and he didn’t like any part of it.”

“And you never did find out what he wanted, what he had on my brother, Edgar?”

Mason shook his head. “It evidently isn’t the ordinary kind of blackmail deal,” he said.

“You think it was something... well, worse than what you call the ordinary blackmail?”

“It could have been,” Mason said. “He acted as though he really had the winning hand.”

“What’s he going to do next?”

Mason shrugged his shoulders, said, “That’s something we’ll have to wait for.”

“Mr. Mason, suppose it could be something — well, real serious?”

“You don’t make a pass at a guy for five thousand bucks on squaring a ticket for parking in front of a fire hydrant,” Mason said. “Whatever it is, it’s something serious.”

“Look, Mr. Mason, I’ve... I could raise money if...”

Mason said, “Forget it. It’s against my policy to pay off blackmailers. To hell with them. Come on, Diana, we’re going to leave here casually. We won’t be carrying anything except your purse and that black bag with the money in it. I’m going to walk with you through the lobby and out the front door. As we cross the lobby, be talking and laughing. You know, the quick, nervous laugh of a woman who realizes that she’s embarking on an adventure which may have romantic overtones. I don’t want anyone to think that you may be surreptitiously leaving the hotel.

“Now, after we’ve walked across the lobby, we’re going down the street a couple of blocks to a taxicab stand. You remember and follow instructions. Get in a taxicab and pull away from the curb. Go to the Union Depot. Mingle around with the crowds. Switch cabs. Go to the airport and get that plane for San Francisco... Hold everything. I’ll see if I can get reservations.”

Mason picked up the phone and asked for an outside line. He gave the number of United Airlines, got the reservations desk, and asked for two tickets to San Francisco on the flight leaving at six twenty-seven.

The lawyer nodded his satisfaction, said, “We’ll pick up the tickets at the airport. Put them both under the name of Perry Mason... That’s right, Perry Mason, the lawyer. I’m listed in the phone books. I have an Air Travel Card and — That’s fine! I’ll pick up one ticket myself. Give the other one to a Miss Diana Douglas. Hold them right up until plane time, if you will.

“Thank you very much!”

Mason hung up the telephone, said, “Everything’s all set, Diana. Ask for a ticket that’s held in the name of Perry Mason. I’ll see you aboard the plane. I’ll have your suitcase with me when I check out of the hotel here. Now, remember that if anything happens to that bag of money you’re carrying, you’re stuck. You’re behind the eight ball. You’re in trouble.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve been carrying it with me and I... I can hardly sleep worrying about it. I know that if anything happens to it I’m never going to be able to work things out. But I’ve got by so far and, after all, Mr. Mason, who knows I’m carrying five thousand dollars?”

“Too many people by this time,” Mason said grimly. “Come on, Diana, put on your best smile and we’re going to go down to the lobby, out the front door, and down to the taxicab stand. You’re going to be laughing and talking and I’ll try a wisecrack now and then... Come on, let’s go. I’ve got an idea this hotel may be a darn poor place for you from now on... You’ll have some time to wait at the airport, but try to be as inconspicuous as possible and get aboard the plane just as soon as the doors are open for boarding.”