The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

Chapter 4

Perry Mason, pacing the floor of his office, paused to look out of the window at the morning sunlight, consulted his wrist-watch, turned impatiently to Della Street.

“How’s the fraud complaint coming, Della?”

“The typist will have it ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I want to file it as soon after ten o’clock as possible,” Mason said. “How about Paul Drake? Hasn’t he come in yet?”

“Apparently not. He was working on a case until all hours this morning and I left word for him to get in touch with you just as soon as he came in.”

“Well, that’s the worst of running a detective agency,” Mason said. “You can’t plan your time, but just the same I—”

He broke off as knuckles sounded in code sequence on the corridor door of the private office.

“That’s Paul now. Let him in, will you please, Della?”

Della Street opened the door.

Paul Drake, head of the Drake Detective Agency, looking worn and haggard, said, “Hi, folks. It’s a beautiful morning for this time of year, isn’t it? That is, if you care for beautiful mornings and this time of year.”

“We care,” Mason said.

“I was afraid you would. Personally, I’m past caring. What gives?”

Mason said, “A little after ten o’clock this morning, Paul, I’m going to be filing a complaint in a case entitled Morley Eden versus Loring Carson. It’s going to be quite a complaint.”

“A civil action?” Drake asked.

“That’s right. It’s an action on the ground of fraud. Loring Carson claimed that he could guarantee title to certain property, that he had evidence which would defeat his wife’s divorce action, that he could prove her guilty of infidelity and that two lots of real estate were community property, that she had no separate property rights in any of the real estate.”

“And that was all false?” Drake asked.

“Was it false!” Mason said. “You don’t know the half of it. Apparently Carson was lying about the whole setup. In addition to that, he either deliberately or accidentally steered his private detective onto another woman in place of his wife. The indiscretions of this other woman were duly chronicled in Carson’s cross-complaint in the divorce action as being those of Mrs. Carson. Moreover, there seems to be a pretty general feeling that he has money stashed away somewhere in the form of cash. Evidently he has seen this coming for some time and he was getting ready to clean up and skip out if he had to.

“Judge Hewitt L. Goodwin, before whom the divorce case was tried, feels pretty much worked up about this and would like to get at the bottom of it. He’d dearly love to find where Carson has money hidden.”

“So you’re filing a complaint on the ground of fraud?”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “And I’m going to follow that up with a request to take Carson’s deposition. I’m going to examine him about certain matters under oath. I’m particularly interested in any hidden assets in the form of concealed cash.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“For one thing,” Mason said, “I want you to locate Carson. Later on I’ll want you to put a shadow on him. In case he has any tendency to skip out after the papers are served on him I’d like to know where he’s going in case he should take to the tall timber.

“I particularly want to find out all I can about his background so that I will have questions to ask on the deposition that will make it difficult for him to lie.”

“Such as what?”

“Such as where he’s been living; whether he’s ever used any other names; whether he has any other bank accounts under different names; whether he has any safety-deposit boxes; things of that sort.

“Moreover, it seems Carson has a girlfriend who’s a hostess at one of the night spots in Las Vegas. Her name is Genevieve Honcutt Hyde, and Carson has been seeing a lot of her. He’s used this Las Vegas background to support his claim that he’s been losing heavily at the tables.

“Judge Goodwin, however, feels Carson has been getting his assets in the form of cash and concealing them somewhere. We have to find out.”

“That stuff’s virtually impossible to get at,” Drake said.

“You’ve had a hard night?” Mason asked.

“I’ve had a hard night and a hard morning,” Drake agreed, smiling ruefully. “I got to bed about three o’clock. It certainly seemed that the sun moved around mighty fast; but even if I did have a hard night, that Las Vegas stuff is hard enough to get to justify my pessimism. Okay, Perry, I’ll see what I can do. Where can I find this Carson, do you know?”

Before Mason could answer the question the telephone bell on Della Street’s desk jangled. She picked up the phone, said, “Yes, Gertie... What?... Who?... You mean Loring Carson?... Just a minute, Gertie.”

Della Street put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and said, “Mr. Loring Carson is in the office and wants to see you at once upon a matter of the greatest importance.”

Mason grinned. “Speaking of angels,” he said, “we hear the flutter of their wings. Just stand in the doorway, Paul, and be taking leave as Carson comes in. That will give you a chance to see him. After that you’ll be able to recognize him.”

“That,” Drake said, “will also give him a chance to see me. If you don’t mind, Perry, I’ll case him from the hall when he leaves. Just be sure that he goes out this door and when he leaves be sure to say, ‘Well, good day, Mr. Carson,’ or ‘I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you, Mr. Carson,’ or something of the sort. Mention his name.”

Mason nodded, said to Della Street, “Go out and escort Mr. Carbon into the office, will you please, Della?”

Paul Drake slipped silently through the exit door to the corridor.

Della returned after a moment, holding the door open to admit a chunky man with an aggressive personality who came barging forward with hand outstretched.

“Mr. Mason!” he said.

Mason bowed and after a moment accepted the outstretched hand.

“I’m Loring Carson. My ears have been burning a bit. Guess you think I’m pretty much of a heel, eh?”

“I don’t know that my personal opinion has anything to do with it, Mr. Carson. I think I should tell you that I am representing interests that are adverse to yours, and those interests will take such steps as are deemed necessary by me in order to protect themselves.”

Carson laughed. “That’s certainly a diplomatic way of putting it, Mr. Mason. Suppose you and I have a little talk and at the end of that time perhaps you won’t feel like taking this action you’re talking about.”

“I don’t think I should talk with you,” Mason said. “You are an adverse party and if you don’t have an attorney representing you at the present time it’s going to be necessary for you to get one. I’m willing to talk with your attorney, but not with you.”

“Oh, phooey with all that professional ethics business,” Carson said. “I’m the captain of the ship. If I get an attorney he’ll do what I tell him to.”

“I still don’t want to talk with you,” Mason said. “You aren’t going to try to throw me out, are you?”

“I might,” Mason said.

“Well, unless you do throw me out I’m going to talk with you. As a matter of fact I haven’t any attorney. My attorney quit me in a huff. Said that I’d misled him and got him into an impossible position.”

“I see,” Mason said noncommittally.

“As a matter of fact it wasn’t anything of the sort,” Carson went on. “The whole trouble was with that stupid private detective I hired. Man by the name of LeGrande Dayton. And if he’s a detective, I’m a nursemaid’s aunt.

“He wanted me to point my wife out to him. Naturally you can’t walk up with a private detective, point your finger and say, ‘That’s the woman right there. Hello, honey, how are you?’ And then your wife will say, ‘Well, what’s this all about? Who’s this man you got with you?’ And you say, ‘Oh, he’s just a guy — someone that wanted to know what you looked like so I told him I’d point you out.’ ”

Carson threw back his head and laughed.

“You have to handle these things judiciously, Mason. I told this detective to shadow the one in dark green just coming out of the door; the one on the edge of the sidewalk. Then I ducked down behind the seat. Well, naturally I meant the inside edge of the sidewalk. He thought that I meant the woman who was on the outside edge of the sidewalk — at least that’s what he says now.”

“And he shadowed the wrong woman?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. Went ahead and got all the dope on her. He asked me if I wanted to break a door down and take pictures and I decided I didn’t want to go that strong. That’s where I made my big mistake — I’d have found it was the wrong person. But he had all the affidavits, photostats of registrations at the motel and all of that, and I went along for the ride — and believe me, they took me for a ride.”

Mason said, “I still don’t care to discuss matters with you, Mr. Carson. You’re going to need an attorney.”

Carson said, “I don’t need any lawyer. I sympathize with Eden. Everything I told him I told him in good faith. There wasn’t any fraud connected with it. There wasn’t any breach of trust. Morley and I were dealing at arm’s length.”

“I don’t care to discuss it with you,” Mason said.

“You’re not discussing it with me; I’m discussing it with you. Now, I’m just going to tell you something, Mr. Mason. You just sit back on this thing and hold your horses. I’ll get it straightened out, but I don’t want you filing any suit charging me with fraud or anything of that sort. You get that now, that’s important. I’m in a position right at the moment where I’m conducting some delicate negotiations. I don’t want any further litigation pending.”

“What you want and what my client wants are not necessarily the same thing,” Mason said, “and under the circumstances I’m bound to do what I think is for the best interests of my client.”

“That’s what I’m telling you,” Carson said. “The best interests of your client require that he cooperate with me and not go off half-cocked with a lot of litigation.”

Mason said, “I want to ask you some questions, Carson, but I am going to ask you those questions when you are under oath and when you have an attorney representing you.”

“Oh, I know,” Carson said. “You’ve probably been talking with old squarehead Goodwin, the judge who tried the case. That old fossil! My gosh, you should see the way Vivian twisted him around her finger.

“After you’ve lived with a woman awhile, you get to know her pretty well. I could see the whole campaign, the way it was all thought out; the way she fluttered her eyes, the way she crossed and uncrossed her knees — looking at the old buzzard with her heart in her eyes — the perfect picture of the wronged woman. If Judge Goodwin could have done it, he’d have sent me to prison. Boy, did she sell him a bill of goods!”

Mason said, “I don’t care to discuss the merits of the divorce action with you, Carson, but I believe that your wife named another woman.”

“All right, what of it? They didn’t prove anything, just a lot of inferences. Genevieve Honcutt Hyde is a friend, and that’s all. Sure, Vivian had suspicions but she wasn’t able to prove anything. I spent a lot of time in Las Vegas but gambling was the main attraction. Sure, the girl was there and I liked her and I went out with her; a few dinners at nightclubs, automobile rides and stuff like that... Good Lord, the last few months of our marriage Vivian was like an iceberg to me. What the hell does she think a man’s going to do? Work hard all day wrestling building problems, putting across deals, and then come home to some frosty-faced reception committee of one that starts finding fault before he’s got the door closed?”

“I have told you repeatedly,” Mason said, “that I don’t care to discuss the case with you. And just so there won’t be any misunderstanding, I suggest that you leave the office now. Use that exit door to the corridor.”

Mason got to his feet.

“Okay,” Carson said, “throw me out. I thought I could drop in and have a friendly little chat with you and perhaps Morley and I could get things all straightened out.”

“If you want to talk with Morley Eden there’s no law that prevents you from doing so,” Mason said.

“Oh, to hell with both of you,” Carson said, pushing his way toward the door. “You go your way and I’ll go mine.”

Carson pulled the door back with a jerk.

“Good morning, Mr. Carson,” Mason said in a loud voice.

“And a good morning to you, Mr. Mason,” Carson shouted. “I tried to cooperate with you and didn’t get anywhere. Now, when you want to find me, you can hunt me up.”

Carson swung his broad shoulders out through the door and pounded his way down the corridor.

Paul Drake, apparently on his way to the men’s room, barely glanced at the irate figure.

“A delightful personality,” Della Street said as the door closed. “Imagine being married to that.”

“He probably has his good points,” Mason said thoughtfully, “but he likes to throw his weight around and when people aren’t impressed he becomes rather objectionable. When the initial fascination of marriage fades, two people can get on each other’s nerves mighty fast.”

“He’s so darned assertive and domineering,” Della Street said. “He—”

She broke off as a buzzer sounded.

“That probably means the typing department has the complaint ready in the case of Eden versus Carson.”

Mason said, “When Morley Eden comes in to sign the verification, Della, see that it is notarized. I’m going to try and do one good turn.”

What?

“I’m going to make whatever amends are possible to a woman who seems to have been caught in a cross fire.”

“You mean Nadine Palmer?” she asked.

Mason nodded.

“She may not welcome you or any suggestions from you.”

“She may not,” Mason said, “but at least I’m going to tell her what the score is.”

Mason looked at his watch. “As soon as this action is filed there’ll be a furor of publicity. Tell Mr. Eden to answer all inquiries from reporters by stating that he will have open house for a press conference at one o’clock and photographers can take whatever pictures they want. Tell him I’ll be at his place as near one as I can make it, and to wait for me. Tell him to be sure not to unlock the front door or to let anyone in until I arrive. Then he can give all the newspaper reporters a simultaneous story and I’ll see that he doesn’t give any wrong answers.”

Della Street, her pencil flying over the page other notebook, looked up and nodded.

“All right,” Mason said, “I’ll sign the complaint as attorney for the plaintiff. Right after Eden signs it and it’s notarized, send it down to the courthouse and file it.”

Della Street said, “May I make one secretarial observation?”

“Shoot, Della.”

“You need a haircut, Chief. If you’re going to have your picture taken at a press conference, and if you’re going calling on a good-looking divorcee, you should have—”

“Go no further,” Mason said. “I’ll go get my hair cut right now, and have a manicure to boot.”

“I didn’t mention the manicure,” she said.

“I know,” he told her. “That was my own idea.”