The Case of the Glamorous Ghost

Chapter number 8

Mason was already at the office when Della Street unlocked the office door and, humming a little tune, entered the room, stopping in surprise as she saw Mason at his desk.

“Hello, Della,” Mason said. “How’s everything coming?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Checking up on things,” Mason said. “There have been... well, developments.”

“Such as what?”

“The papers haven’t said anything about it as yet,” Mason said, “but the body that was found in Sierra Vista Park has been identified as that of Douglas Hepner.”

“He’s dead?”

“That’s right. Shot in the back of the head with a revolver. There’s a wound of entrance but no wound of exit, which means the police will be able to recover the bullet and that means that with proper ballistics examination they can determine what gun fired the bullet — provided, of course, they can find the gun. What happened with you, Della?”

“Well,” she said, “I had an interesting evening.”

“Any approaches?”

“Lots of them.”

“Significant?”

“I don’t think so. I think they represented merely the usual wolf on the prowl. Of course in a high-class hotel of that sort the approach is rather guarded, discreet and refined, but it has the same ultimate objective as it would have anywhere else.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, I was asked very discreetly if I cared to dance. One of them even made a circumspect approach via the waiter with a note stating that I looked lonely and that if I cared to dance the gentlemen two tables over would be very anxious to dance with me.”

“Gentlemen?” Mason asked.

“Two of them.”

“What did you do?”

“I danced.”

“What did they do?”

“They danced. They made exploratory remarks.”

“Passes?”

“Not passes. Exploratory verbal excursions for the purpose of testing my defenses.”

“And how were your defenses?”

“Adequate, but not impregnable. I didn’t give them the impression that they were storming a Maginot Line. I let them feel that the territory might be invaded, conquered and occupied but definitely not as the result of one skirmish. In other words, I was sophisticated, amused and — I didn’t slam any doors. I take it that was what you wanted.”

“That was what I wanted at the time,” Mason said, “but I don’t know now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid there are certain developments that are going to make for complications.”

“Such as what?”

“Eleanor Hepner, or Eleanor Corbin as the case may be, had been out of circulation for some two weeks. She was discovered wandering around in the park without adequate covering. Her skin is very light, very creamy...”

“Ah yes, her skin,” Della murmured. “I’ve heard you refer to it several times.”

Mason grinned. “It’s worth referring to, Della. The point is that if she had been wandering around for any length of time without clothing her skin would very definitely have shown a redness, an irritation, in short, it would have been sunburned, and...”

“And, of course,” Della Street said, “as a good detective you observed those things.”

“One learns by observation.”

“So I gather. But go on, tell me more about that delightful creamy skin.”

“Well,” Mason said, “it wasn’t the least bit sunburned. It hadn’t been exposed to wind, air, or anything other than...”

“The soft lights of a bedroom,” Della Street interrupted acidly.

Mason went on without noticing the interruption. “Therefore I knew she must have been staying near where she was picked up in the Sierra Vista Park. So, as you know, I made a bluff and got Ethel Belan to admit the girl had been there, but, of course, we didn’t learn why. Perhaps Ethel Belan didn’t know why. Now I’m afraid I do know why.”

“Why?”

“Suzanne Granger. And that makes it look very much as though Eleanor actually hadn’t been married.”

“In what way?”

“If she had been married,” Mason said, “it is difficult to believe that her husband would have deserted her during the honeymoon and started playing around with Suzanne Granger. If, on the other hand, she had gone away on a week-end trip, become infatuated, and if Hepner hadn’t been equally infatuated but had perhaps become somewhat bored...”

“With that skin? With those beautiful legs?” Della Street asked.

“A man who travels as much as Hepner might well become surfeited with such things.”

“I see. You don’t travel. Do you mean he became bored with Eleanor’s charms?”

“It could be.”

“My, my,” Della Street said, “I’d never have thought it possible from your description.”

“And so,” Mason said, “Eleanor goes to live with Ethel Belan where she can keep an eye on Suzanne. Then Suzanne goes to Las Vegas for a week end with Douglas Hepner, and while she is gone Eleanor gets into the Granger apartment and commits many acts of vandalism, the type of thing that a woman who is exceedingly catty and exceedingly jealous would do to hurt another woman.”

“Such as what?”

“Such as cutting the bottoms off a lot of tubes of expensive oil paints, squeezing out the contents all over the place.”

“Did she do that?”

“Suzanne Granger thinks she did.”

“Did she tell you why?”

“No. Our conversation was interrupted.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” Della Street said. “Just where does that leave us?”

“It may leave us in a beautiful situation,” Mason said. “It sketches Eleanor Hepner...”

“Or Eleanor Corbin,” Della corrected.

“Or Eleanor Corbin,” Mason admitted, “in a very unfavorable light. And then, of course, one wonders.”

“Wonders what?”

“Suzanne Granger,” Mason said, “is an artist. She’s a student of painting and of painting technique. She’s very much interested in the old masters. She’s writing a book on lighting effects and so forth. She hopes the book...”

“How old?”

“Twenty-four, — five or — six.”

“That means seven, eight or nine,” Della Street said. “Good-looking?”

“Very.”

“What about her skin?”

“I noticed only her face and hands.”

“Well,” Della Street said, “I’m glad to see some of your contacts are conservative.”

“I think,” Mason said, “you’re missing the point.”

“I don’t think I missed it with Eleanor.”

“One doesn’t,” Mason said, grinning.

“Go on.”

“The point is,” Mason said, “that Suzanne Granger positively believes that Eleanor got into her apartment while she was in Las Vegas, cut the bottoms off the tubes of paint and...”

“Yes, yes, you told me that,” Della Street said. “Pardon me if I seem out of character as the docile secretary this morning, but remember that I was the mysterious Little Miss Richbitch last night, and I’ve been bandying repartee with predatory males.”

Mason grinned. “It’s all right, Della. I like it. The point is, suppose it hadn’t been sabotage.”

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose Eleanor had a definite objective in mind?”

“Cutting the bottoms off tubes of oil paints, squeezing the contents around the apartment?” Della Street asked. “What in the world would she be doing if...?”

“You don’t get the sketch,” Mason said. “You’re accepting Suzanne Granger’s story at face value.”

“You don’t believe Eleanor did it?”

“I’m not commenting about that at the present time,” Mason said, “but here’s Suzanne Granger, young, attractive, very much on her toes, writing a serious book which requires a lot of research work, trotting off to Europe two or three times a year, visiting studios, carrying a huge number of tubes of paint.

“She has probably built up a character with Customs officials so that they recognize her as a very serious young woman engaged in copying masterpieces. They say, ‘How do you do, Miss Granger? How are you today? And did you buy anything while you were abroad?’ and she says, ‘Just the usual assortment of lingerie and a little perfume which I have here in this suitcase.’

“So then the Customs officials open the suitcase, riffle their hands down through the folded feminine garments, check the perfume, say, ‘Thank you very much, Miss Granger,’ close the suitcase, put on the Customs sticker and Suzanne motions for the porter.”

“And all the while,” Della Street asked, “concealed within those tubes of paint are various and sundry gems?”

“Now,” Mason said, “you’re beginning to get the idea. There is, of course, a sequence there that a cold, cynical, skeptical mind can’t overlook. On the one hand we have Suzanne Granger, a very serious-minded but attractive young woman who is interested in gathering material for a scholarly book on art. We also have her going to Las Vegas with Douglas Hepner, who seems to have been exceedingly inept in his approach.”

“He got her to go, didn’t he?”

“He got her to go, Della, but there again is the pattern. He paused at Barstow to buy gasoline. He was seized with the impulse to telephone his very dear mother in Salt Lake. He telephoned Mother and told her that he was with a Suzanne Granger, that Suzanne Granger was headed for Las Vegas to spend a week end with him.”

“What a nice approach,” Della Street said. “How happy Suzanne must have felt!”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “And since we now know that Douglas Hepner’s mother was an attractive brunette with a good figure and a mysterious personality, and since we now know that while Suzanne Granger was gone someone got in her apartment and clipped the bottoms off the tubes of paint and squeezed out all the paint, and since we now know that concealed within the lotions and creams of Eleanor was a small fortune in jewels, and since we now know that Suzanne Granger didn’t notify the police of what had happened... well, there we have the elements of something to think about.”

“Darned if we don’t,” Della Street admitted.

“It begins to look like a pattern.”

“And what an interesting pattern!” Della said.

“Exactly,” Mason said. “Imagine how a young woman must feel. She starts out with Douglas Hepner. The air is surcharged with romance. They’re headed out away from the city, away from the conventional environment, away from associating with those who know them. They’re going to venture forth as strangers, a young man and a young woman, driving in the same automobile. They’re going to be away for one, two or perhaps three days.

“Probably there’s been nothing crude in his approach. So far everything is perfectly proper. They are, of course, unchaperoned, but after all a man isn’t supposed to take a chaperone in this day and age if the young woman happens to be over the age of consent, free, unattached, sophisticated... And then Douglas Hepner stops for gasoline. He says casually, ‘I have a call to make. Come on over.’

“Naturally the young woman walks over. She wants to know whether he’s calling ahead for reservations and if so what type of reservations he’s asking for. She doesn’t intend to have him take too much for granted. She wants to have the privilege of reaching a decision rather than have it taken for granted.

“And dear little Douglas calls up ‘Mother’ and says, ‘Mother dear, I just wanted to talk with you. At a time like this a man’s thoughts quite naturally turn to his mother. I’m headed out for a week end and I have a cute little trick with me. Her name is so-and-so. She’s five foot four, weighs a hundred and twelve pounds, has a bust measurement of thirty-four inches, a waist measurement of twenty-six, and a hip measurement of thirty-six, calf thirteen and a half, thigh nineteen inches. Her address is Apartment 358, The Belinda Apartments, Los Angeles, and you really should get acquainted with her because some day you’ll be meeting her, and here she is on the phone, Mother.’ ”

Della Street made a little face. “I can imagine how that would leave a young woman feeling.”

“We know how it left Suzanne Granger feeling,” Mason said.

“In other words, Mr. Hepner paid for two hotel rooms.”

“Two units in a motel,” Mason corrected.

“And when Suzanne Granger returned she found her apartment had been broken into and... Chief, that was the same approach he used with Eleanor.”

Mason nodded.

“So what do you suppose Eleanor found had happened when she returned?”

“She didn’t return,” Mason said, “not to her residence anyway.”

“How very, very interesting,” Della said, “and so someone puts a bullet in the back of Mr. Hepner’s head. One can well imagine that if Douglas Hepner’s romantic adventures followed such a delightful pattern the end was almost inevitable.”

Mason said, “All right, Della, your reasoning is sound but the way you put it carries the taint of your stay at a high-class hotel as a single, unattached woman. Let’s get into our working clothes and...”

She picked up a file of unanswered mail. “And you can dictate some of these letters,” she said.

Mason winced.

“I’ve culled out everything except the important stuff, so...”

“Well,” Mason said, “I suppose...”

They were interrupted by Paul Drake’s code knock on the door.

“Let Paul in, Della,” Mason said.

She said, “Saved by the bell — but you’re going to have to get those letters out of the way some time today, Chief. They’re things that are important, things I’ve been holding here until I’m ashamed to hold them any longer.”

She opened the office door, said, “Hi, Paul.”

Drake grinned at Della Street and said, “Two operatives submitted reports on your activities last night, young lady. I gather that you were in circulation.”

“I was being more circulated against than circulating,” Della Street said.

“What’s the idea, Perry?” Paul Drake asked. “Come to think it over, I don’t want to know.”

“It might be a good idea if you didn’t,” Mason admitted. “What about the body? Has it been positively identified?”

“Yes, it’s Hepner. He met his death as a result of one shot with a .38 caliber bullet. Now then, Perry, I’m bringing you bad news.”

“How bad?”

“That depends,” Drake said. “You know all of the cards in the suit. You know pretty much who is holding them. I don’t even know what’s trumps. I give you the information. It’s a one-way street. Now I think I’m bringing you bad news.”

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “What is it?”

“The Ethel Belan who has apartment 360 at the Belinda Apartments has cracked.”

“How bad?”

“All the way.”

“To whom?”

“Police.”

“I didn’t think she’d have the moral stamina to stick it out,” Mason said. “What does she know?”

“Now there,” Drake said, “you’re getting into the top classification of super-secret police archives. Whatever it is, it’s causing them to smile and lick their chops like a cat who has just managed to overturn a cream bottle and has its belly full.”

“Any chance of talking with her?”

“Just as much chance of talking with her as there is standing on the back porch and shouting a message to the man in the moon. The police have her tied up so tight you can’t get within a mile of the hotel where she’s staying. They got her to throw some things in a bag. Then they whisked her out of the apartment, rushed her to a hotel where she’s in a suite of rooms guarded by a policewoman. Those rooms are at one end of a corridor. The suite of rooms opposite is taken by two deputy district attorneys who are interrogating her in relays. That end of the corridor is blocked off by a police guard. Plain-clothes detectives are scurrying in and out like rats looting a grain bin.

“I’m merely reporting this, since you apparently anticipated it.”

“What do you mean I anticipated it?”

“You got Della in the same hotel hours before the police moved in. Della’s room is even on the same floor as the suite where they’re holding Ethel Belan. I don’t want to know anything. I’m merely telling you what you know already, but I want to tell you so no one can make a point later on that I didn’t tell you.”

Drake exchanged glances with Della Street.

“Well,” Drake went on, “whatever Ethel Belan has told them is damned important and they’re really going to town.”

“You don’t have any idea what it is?”

“Not the slightest, and, what’s more, I’m not to be allowed to have any idea what it is. The D.A. is going to move for an indictment with the grand jury and then he’s going to press for an immediate trial.”

“He won’t file a complaint?”

“No complaint, no information, no preliminary hearing, no chance for you to cross-examine witnesses until you get to court in front of a jury,” Drake said. “By that time they’ll have it sewed up. They’re really going to town on this one, Perry.”

Mason thought that over for a minute. “What else?” he asked.

“It seems that Eleanor Corbin had a permit for a .38 caliber revolver. No one can find that revolver. She had it with her a few days before she left home. Presumably she was carrying it with her when she left. Police don’t know where it is now.”

Mason thought that over.

“Of course, you’ve got her out of circulation now,” Drake said, “but when the grand jury returns an indictment and the police notify you and the doctors in charge, and the general public through the newspapers, that she’s under indictment for first-degree murder, she then becomes a fugitive from justice and anyone who conceals her is headed for the hoosegow.

“Temporarily you’ve outsmarted them and they’re conceding that you’ve won one trick. But by two-thirty or three o’clock this afternoon she’ll be a fugitive and then they’ll be only too glad to have you conceal her.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Go on, Paul.”

“Now then, police have found Hepner’s automobile. It’s been pretty badly smashed. Evidently it was in some sort of a head-on collision, but police can’t find out where the collision took place, they can’t find out where the car came from or anything about it.”

“That’s strange,” Mason said. “Why can’t they trace that auto accident?”

“Apparently there’s no report of it.”

“Where did they find the car?”

“In a garage. It was brought in by a tow car late Sunday night. It was left for repairs. The garage people were told that Hepner would be in within twenty-four hours to check it over and that he wanted it repaired and put in shape.”

“What about the tow car? Can’t they trace that?”

“No one ever got the license on the tow car. Why should they? It was just an ordinary tow car. It came in and dumped the wrecked car and went on its way.”

“That’s a garage here in town?”

“That’s right. The All Night and Day Emergency Repair Company.”

“The police talked with them?”

“The police talked with them and my men talked with them,” Drake said. “They’re very close-mouthed. Personally, I think they may know something they’re not telling. What they tell is a straightforward story. This wrecking car came in towing Hepner’s Oldsmobile. The front end was all caved in. The rear wheels were okay. They’d hoisted the front end up with a derrick and towed it in.

“It was just another job as far as the garage was concerned. They had the car. They didn’t intend to spend any money on it until they’d talked with the owner. They just dumped the wreck out in the back along with a lot of other wrecked vehicles. They didn’t even check it over carefully to find out how badly it was injured or whether it was worthwhile repairing. In other words, they did exactly nothing. They let it sit there. They knew that the automobile was worth enough for junk to more than cover any storage bill that would pile up. They were waiting for Hepner. Hepner didn’t show up.”

“I suppose the police have examined the car,” Mason said.

“Have the police examined the car!” Drake exclaimed. “I’ll say they are examining the car! They’re examining it with a microscope. They’re working against time and trying to get findings ready for the grand jury by two o’clock this afternoon.

“They’ve found out that the car with which Hepner’s automobile had a collision was painted black. From a chemical analysis of the paint they think it was probably a truck. Police are looking for that truck. They’re combing every garage in town.”

“Anything else?” Mason asked.

“That seems to be the size of it so far,” Drake said. “I’m sorry we don’t have more to report, Perry, but we’ve had lots of people finding out lots of nothing. If you want to find out that marriage licenses haven’t been issued for two people, or that two people didn’t stay at a hotel on a certain date as man and wife, you have to comb the records, and use up a lot more manpower than if you struck pay dirt.

“In other words, if they did register you may find the register the second or third place you look. But if they didn’t register you have to cover the whole doggone outfit.”

“I know, I know,” Mason interposed.

“I’ve been up all night,” Drake said. “I can stick it out for another twelve or fifteen hours and then I’m going to have to cave in and get some sleep.

“You’re in a jam, Perry. Whatever you’re going to do you’re going to have to do between now and two-thirty or three o’clock. At that time you’re going to get a telephone call from your friend, the district attorney, telling you there’s an indictment for your client, Eleanor Corbin, alias Eleanor Hepner, and will you please see that she is surrendered; that if she is not surrendered will you please tell them where she is; and if you withhold information you’ll be obstructing the interests of justice, compounding a felony and all that sort of legal stuff.”

“And if the district attorney can’t get hold of me?” Mason asked.

“In that event, by five o’clock the newspapers will proclaim to the world that there’s a felony warrant out, that the girl is a fugitive from justice, and your doctor will be put in a spot that he won’t want to occupy and you won’t want to put him in.”

Mason nodded.

“So,” Drake said, “what do I do?”

Mason said, “Stay on the job until they issue the indictment, Paul, and then go home and get some sleep. Keep getting what information you can. Have your correspondents in Las Vegas start covering motels. Also see if Suzanne Granger and Douglas Hepner registered under their own names in two separate motel units on the night of the thirteenth — that would be Friday.”

“Well, well, Friday the thirteenth,” Drake said. “Two separate units?”

“That’s right.”

“He got her to go to Las Vegas with him and then they had two units in a motel,” Drake said. “Do I get it right?”

“That’s the story,” Mason told him. “I want it verified.”

“Want to bet that it can’t be verified?”

“I have a hunch,” Mason said, “that you’re going to find it happened exactly that way — that they occupied two separate units.”

“I don’t want to be crude,” Drake said, glancing surreptitiously at Della Street, “but my curiosity is aroused.”

Della said, “Mr. Hepner was inept, Paul.”

“How soon can you have the information?” Mason asked.

“Perhaps by two o’clock,” Drake said. “If you’re right we may have it sooner. It’s just like I told you, when you’re looking...”

“I understand,” Mason told him. “Get busy.”

“Okay,” Drake said and left the office.

Della Street looking inquiringly at Mason. “Now what?” she asked.

“We’re in a fix,” Mason said. “Your hotel is crawling with detectives. The minute you show up they’ll pounce on you. They’ll make a double check, they’ll find out about the ‘valuables’ in the hotel safe. They’ll want to look. They’ll get a court order if they have to. They may not have to.”

“That would seem to leave us high and dry,” she said.

“And you have your clothes there?”

“All my best clothes.”

Mason thought for a moment, said, “It’s a problem we’ll have to solve later, Della. Right now we’re metering minutes. See if you can get Dr. Ariel on the phone.”

Della Street put through the call. It took her two or three minutes before she was finally able to locate the doctor.

“Hello, Doctor,” Mason said. “I’m sorry to have to disturb you. I...”

“I was just getting ready to operate,” Dr. Ariel said. “What’s the trouble now?”

“That patient,” Mason said. “You put her some place where she couldn’t be found?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re going to have to find her.”

“How come?”

“She’s going to be indicted for first-degree murder by two-thirty or three o’clock this afternoon. By that time she’ll technically become a fugitive from justice. In case you should happen to read a paper and know that she was wanted and didn’t communicate information...”

“I very seldom read the evening papers,” Dr. Ariel interrupted. “Was that what was bothering you?”

“No,” Mason said. “I think the going will be pretty tough on this one, Doctor. I don’t want you to take a chance.”

“I’ll do anything I can, Perry.”

“No, I think we’re going to have to surrender Mrs. Hepner and I think you should be the one to do it. When the papers come out just call the police and tell them that Mrs. Hepner is under your care, that you feel that it is only fair to let the police know where she is, that you think she should not be subjected to any shock and that you want to warn the police that she is under medical psychiatric care and so forth.”

“When?”

“As soon as you read about it in the newspapers. In the meantime where is she?”

“The Oak and Pines Rest Home.”

“Thanks a lot, Doctor. Remember, as soon as the paper comes out ring up the police — better have someone with you listening to the conversation. If you have a good office nurse you can trust, get her to call the police, tell them that Eleanor Hepner is a patient of yours and that you felt that you should communicate her whereabouts to the police although she is under medical attention and all that. Get it?”

“I get it.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Good-by.”

Mason hung up, glanced at his watch.

Della Street tossed the file of important mail back on the desk and said, “I take it you can now attend to the mail.”

“I think not, Della.”

“I thought not.”

Mason grinned. “You have a few things to do.”

“What?”

“You have to call up your hotel, tell the clerk that you’re expecting to go to Mexico City with friends on a plane, that you want to keep your room while you’re gone, that you don’t want to have any misunderstanding about the bill and that you’ll mail two hundred and fifty dollars on account.”

“And the two hundred and fifty dollars?” Della Street asked.

“You draw it out of the account as a business expense,” Mason said. “You charge it to the Corbins. We certainly were unfortunate in our choice of hotels. Now you can’t go back there and you don’t dare to check out.”

“Well,” Della Street said somewhat wistfully, “that terminates my very interesting night life. I am going to be missed this evening. Some guests are going to be making discreet inquiries.”

“When they find you have gone to Mexico City with friends,” Mason said, “they won’t fly to Mexico City after you, will they, Della?”

“Oh no, but they’ll reproach themselves for not having been a little more persistent in their approach last night. Going to Mexico City ‘with friends’ has interesting connotations in the mind of the young predatory male who is busily engaged in planning a campaign.”

“Yes, I see your point. However, at the moment there’s no help for it.”

“Isn’t it fortunate,” Della Street said, “that Eleanor has such a considerate family. Here she finds herself with an attorney all ready to represent her on a murder charge, a lawyer who was retained even before the corpse was discovered.”

“It is,” Mason said, “a singularly interesting coincidence.”