The Case of the Glamorous Ghost

Chapter number 6

It was nearly ten o’clock when Perry Mason dropped into Paul Drake’s office.

The detective was seated at his desk in his shirt sleeves, sipping coffee and holding a phone to his ear.

He nodded as Mason came in, put down the coffee cup, said, “I’ve just struck something important out in Las Vegas, Perry. My gosh, I’ve got an army of operatives on the job. I’ve told every one of them to phone in the minute he finds anything that may be at all significant. No marriage records in Las Vegas, Nevada. Guess I told you. Can’t remember just what I’ve reported and what I haven’t. Things have been coming too fast. My man over in Las Vegas says it’s a hundred and fifteen and... Hello, hello... Hello, yes... He did, eh?... All right, keep trying... All right.”

Drake hung up the phone, sighed wearily, said, “What’s the idea with Della?”

“Della,” Mason said, “is putting on the dog. She’s joined the ranks of the idle rich, and is looking around.”

“So I gathered. Is she still a working gal?”

“Daytimes she’s a working gal,” Mason said. “Nighttime she stays at the hotel and your men watch her.”

“Bait for a trap?” Drake asked.

“Could be. What’s the dope on Doug Hepner?”

“That’s a funny thing,” Drake said.

“What is?”

Drake pushed the coffee cup to one side.

Drake said, “I flew one of my operatives over to Las Vegas, Nevada. He had a bunch of pictures of Hepner. We had some pretty good enlargements and...”

“You told me all that,” Mason interrupted impatiently.

“I know, but I wanted you to get the picture. My man picked up some of my associates in Las Vegas and got them all started working. Gosh, Perry, do you have any idea of the number of people who pour through Las Vegas, Nevada, in the course of a week?”

“I suppose it’s a lot,” Mason said. “What are you leading up to? Do you want to show me some particularly brilliant piece of detective work?”

“Hell, no,” Drake said. “On the off-chance that this man Hepner had done some gambling and that might be the answer, we took his photograph and dropped around to a couple of dealers that we knew. Understand, Perry, there wasn’t one chance in a thousand, not one chance in a million that anything like that would have paid off, but we took a chance at it just to see what would happen.”

“All right, what happened?”

“One of these dealers knew the guy.”

“Douglas Hepner?”

“Yes. He hadn’t seen the guy for a year, but he knew him, knew all about him, knew what he was doing.”

“Shoot,” Mason said.

“He used to be a gambler, a professional. He freelanced on poker games for a while. He acted as shill for a house. He ran roulette and twenty-one games, and was pretty fair. He was dependable, sharp, quick, likable, had a nice voice and personality and...”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, that was three, four years ago.”

“Come on,” Mason said impatiently, “get down to the present. What’s he doing now?”

“Believe it or not, collecting rewards.”

“Collecting rewards?” Mason echoed.

“That’s right.”

“Who from?”

“The United States Government.”

“How come?”

Drake said, “You know what happens when people go to Europe.”

“Sure. They send home post cards. They bring home souvenirs. They...”

“And one woman out of three does a little smuggling — sometimes it doesn’t amount to much, sometimes it’s a lot.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said.

“The United States Customs pays a reward for information that leads to the recovery of smuggled goods. Suppose Mrs. Rearbumper smuggles in a ten-thousand-dollar diamond. She’s just as safe as can be unless she happens to have bought that diamond where some spotter on the other side tipped off the Government.”

Mason nodded.

“If, however, the Government gets a tip-off they go through all of Mrs. Rearbumper’s things. They find the diamond. They confiscate the diamond. They fine her. And then if she wants her diamond back she has to buy it back. There’s a nice little bit of sugar for the Government and the Government naturally likes to preserve its sources of information, so it pays off.”

“I see,” Mason said dryly.

“Now then, that’s why I was trying to give you this background of Douglas Hepner. Two years or so ago he went to Europe. He thought he’d do a little gambling on the boat. He found that that was a pretty tough nut to crack. The big steamship companies don’t like to have professional gamblers take money from passengers. So Hepner, with his nice manners, his knowledge of the world, his suave approach, started using his eyes and ears. He made friends on the trip over. He kept up with his friends in Europe. He posed as having quite a bit of information about values, particularly in regard to jewelry — and I guess he does know quite a bit about diamonds.

“The result was that within thirty days he knew of a big chunk of gems that had been purchased with no intention on the part of the purchaser of paying any duty to Uncle Sam.

“Hepner’s trip paid off. Thereafter he started taking more and more trips.”

“And he met Eleanor Corbin on a boat coming back from Europe three months ago,” Mason said.

“Exactly,” Drake told him.

“Do you suppose Eleanor did a little smuggling?”

“Eleanor is quite capable of doing a lot of smuggling,” Drake said. “Eleanor has been in a couple of scrapes. She’s a hot wire.”

“The point is, did someone turn in information on her and did she get caught smuggling?”

“She didn’t get caught smuggling,” Drake said.

“More and more interesting,” Mason pointed out.

“She became very friendly with Douglas Hepner. Now do you suppose Douglas Hepner was merely cultivating her as a contact, or do you suppose Douglas Hepner knew about some jewelry she was bringing into this country and was persuaded by one means or another not to say anything?”

“You open up very interesting vistas,” Mason said. “How am I going to find Douglas Hepner?”

“That, of course, is the sixty-four-dollar question,” Drake said. “Lots of people are asking that question right at the moment.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Newspaper reporters. They’d like to make a nice story out of this. It has some choice angles. A bride who can’t remember anything about her wedding night or her honeymoon. That’s a nice angle. On the other hand, the daughter of a wealthy family who says she’s married to Douglas Hepner, and Douglas Hepner says she isn’t. She’s sporting a wedding ring and a loss of memory. Nice stuff.

“Or take it from the angle of a girl who goes bye-bye for a week end with a good-looking guy she met on shipboard. A nice juicy little scandal here. Lots of people slip out over week ends. They often wonder what would happen if they got caught. So when they read about someone who does get caught it gives the story a lot of impact.”

“This smuggling angle gives the whole situation a new slant, Paul.”

“It opens up complications,” Drake said. “A man who goes in for that line of work is, of course, interested in the twenty percent. He forms friendships for the purpose of getting information. He becomes sort of a sublimated stool pigeon, no matter how lofty he thinks his motives are. He cultivates middle-aged women who think he’s a wonderful dancing partner... They become great friends. She tells him about picking up a present for her sister. It was wonderfully cheap and if she can only get it in without paying duty on it, it will be a lot cheaper. She asks him what he thinks. Of course he advises her to go right ahead and then goes back and enters down the name and the approximate amount in a little notebook.

“Well then, of course, once you start figuring on the twenty percent, another beautiful angle opens up.”

“Blackmail?” Mason asked.

“Blackmail,” Drake said. “Mrs. Rearbumper simply couldn’t stand it to be branded as a criminal. That would be terrible. That would put her right out of circulation in the set to which she belongs.”

“There is,” Mason said, “also a wonderful opportunity for high-grading. Let’s suppose that John K. Bigshot, a big gem importer, has worked out a pretty good system of smuggling in a lot of gems at a clip. The Customs men don’t catch him but Douglas Hepner catches him. The gems are concealed in a crutch that’s been skillfully hollowed out, or in a wooden leg that...”

“Sure,” Drake said, “there are lots of possibilities.”

“Some of them on a bunch of smuggled gems. Suppose word of that gets out. People have different reactions. Some people would want to run to him and pay him off. Some would try to skip the country and wait until things blew over. Some would try first one way and then another to silence him. If he couldn’t be silenced and the game happened to be important enough, the shipment big enough, or the information Hepner had vital enough, well...” Mason shrugged his shoulders.

Again the phone on Drake’s desk rang.

Drake picked it up, said, “Okay, let me have that...”

The other phone rang.

Mason said, “Hang on just a moment. I’ll see what this is.”

Drake said, “Hello... that’s right. Drake speaking...”

He was silent for a matter of some twenty seconds, listening to what was coming in over the telephone, then he said, “This is important. Keep me posted on everything. Good-by.”

Drake slammed up that phone, barked into the other one, “Matter of major emergency. If I don’t call you in fifteen minutes call me back in fifteen.”

Drake slammed the phone into its cradle, turned to Mason. A faint flush of excitement was stealing over the detective’s cheeks.

“Know something?”

“What?”

“The police just discovered a man’s body in Sierra Vista Park. The body was located within a couple of hundred yards of where Eleanor was tripping around in a thin slip and sweet smile.”

“What about the body?” Mason interrupted.

“That’s darn near all I know and apparently it’s darn near all the police know. The body has a very neat bullet hole in the back of the head. Apparently the bullet didn’t go through the skull.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“Anywhere from twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” Drake said.

“Did police find the body?”

“A necking couple left the car and went smooching into the dark shadows. The body was lying in a thick patch of brush. There was a trail through there and the body was just off the trail.”

“It’s Hepner?” Mason asked.

“So far there’s been no identification. It’s just a body with a bullet hole in the back of the head.”

Mason grabbed for one of the telephones, said to the girl on Drake’s exchange, “Get me outside, fast.”

Mason dialed a number, said, “This is Perry Mason. I have to talk with Dr. Ariel. Get me through just as soon as you can. This is a major emergency.”

Thirty seconds later Dr. Ariel was on the line.

Mason said, “I’m very much concerned about our mental patient, Doctor.”

“Eleanor Hepner?”

“That’s right.”

“Her progress is very satisfactory.”

“As I understand it, in treating a person of that sort it’s necessary to avoid any mental shock. Any emotional upset could have disastrous results.”

“Well, of course,” Dr. Ariel said cautiously, “the patient is rather a peculiar individual. She seems to be well-oriented, with a good sense of humor and...”

“As I understand it,” Mason said, “an emotional shock could send such a patient off the deep end.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. You...”

“As I understand it, an emotional shock could be disastrous.”

Dr. Ariel thought for a moment, said, “Excuse me, I’m a little dumb tonight. It could be, yes.”

“It’s to be avoided?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t what the doctors call ‘indicated.’ ”

“I have a feeling,” Mason said, “that she may be pestered by lots of people.”

“No one knows where she is, Perry.”

“They don’t know, but it might be possible for them to find out.”

“You mean newspaper reporters?”

“Perhaps — and others.”

“You mean relatives?”

“I was thinking of newspaper reporters — and others.”

“You don’t mean the police, Perry?”

“Well, of course, one never knows.”

“Forget it,” Dr. Ariel said. “The police have nothing against her. She was wandering around in the moonlight but she wasn’t exactly in the nude. They couldn’t even get her on indecent exposure. They can’t get an identification, and anyhow, the police have wiped the slate clean.”

“That’s an interesting expression,” Mason said. “You wipe the slate clean. Why do you do that?”

“To get rid of what’s written on it,” Dr. Ariel said, puzzled.

“No. It’s because a slate is meant to be written on,” Mason corrected. “You wipe it clean so you can write something else on it. I think our patient should be transferred to some place where no one can find her and disturb her.”

Dr. Ariel thought for a moment, then said, “Well, of course, these things are a little tricky. No one can predict just what’s going to happen.”

“I think we should guard against any eventuality,” Mason insisted.

“Okay,” Dr. Ariel said. “I’ll get busy.”

“I feel she should be where no one can disturb her,” Mason went on.

“I got you the first time,” Dr. Ariel said. “That is, after I finally tumbled. It’s going to take a little doing, but I think it can be done.”

“At once,” Mason said.

“Oh sure,” Dr. Ariel told him. “This is an emergency. Got any news for me?”

“No.”

“You mean no news?”

“I mean not for you,” Mason said. “You’d better get busy. I’m very much concerned about the health of my client and your patient.”

“So am I, now that you mention it,” Dr. Ariel said. “Thanks for calling, Perry. Good-by.”

Mason hung up the phone, turned to Paul Drake. “Paul, you’ve got a pipeline into police headquarters—”

“A couple of newspaper reporters are willing to do a little work on the side after they phone the story in to the newspaper — and, of course, lots of times newspapers know things that they don’t publish.”

“Use all your contacts,” Mason said. “Spend money as necessary. Find out everything about the body. Find out if it could have been suicide. What kind of a weapon was used. Where the weapon is. How long the body was dead. Check the identification. Find out where Hepner resided. Locate his automobile. Check back on his movements...”

“The police will be doing all that,” Drake said. “We can’t compete with the police.”

“I didn’t ask you to,” Mason said. “I told you to get that information. I don’t give a damn how you get it or who gets it first. I want it.”

“Okay,” Drake said wearily. “And I was just going home. Where will you be, Perry?”

Mason said, “I’ll be where no one can find me until after Eleanor has been moved and after the body has been identified. That means I’ll be out of circulation until tomorrow morning. I’ll then show up at the office as usual. In the meantime, don’t waste time trying to reach me because you can’t do it.”