The Case of the Half-Wakened Wife

Chapter 5

Perry Mason, hat pushed jauntily back on his head, came swinging down the corridor just as Della Street was leaving by the exit door of the private office.

“Well, for heaven’s sakes, what brings you back?” she asked.

Mason grinned, “Been having a session with the district attorney.”

“That’s something.”

“Uh huh, thought I’d drop in at the office to see if there was anything new. Everyone gone?”

“Jackson’s in the law library.”

Mason grinned, “Looking for a case that’s on all fours?”

“Absolutely.”

Mason said, “Jackson is never satisfied. If he has a replevin case involving a brown horse with a white right hind leg, he doesn’t want a precedent that establishes a rule of law about just any old horse. He wants to keep looking until he finds one with a white right hind leg.”

Della Street smiled, “One white right hind leg,” she amended. “That’s Jackson.”

“What is it this time?” Mason asked.

“An oil lease... A couple of sisters, a vague dreamy little woman whom you’d like and a grim faced chiseler whom you wouldn’t... Looks to me as though the chiseler might wind up with the money in the long run.”

“They always do,” Mason said. “What about the oil lease?”

“Some joker that provided any default could be straightened up within six months.”

Mason said, “I suppose there’s some new activity and the sharper wants to chisel in on it.”

“No, something different. It’s an island in the middle of the river about thirty miles up from the bay. Apparently just a beautiful place for a millionaire to have an island empire of his own. It isn’t much good for ranching but it would be swell for a millionaire’s estate.”

Mason grinned, “The problem these days is to first find your millionaire.”

“They’ve found one, Parker Benton.”

Mason whistled.

“The deal’s already in escrow,” Della said. “This oil thing will kill it.”

“How long’s Jackson been working on it?”

“Only about an hour. I think he’s waiting for the women to return and bring him the oil lease. He doesn’t want them to know he’s going to be in the office. He told them to drop it through the mail chute in the door, but I know he rang up his wife and told her he wouldn’t be home for dinner.”

“Again?”

“Again and again and again. If I were his wife I’d want to have him wear an identification tag with his photograph on it so I’d know who he was when he did come back to the house. Honestly, it seems to me she doesn’t get to look at him often enough to remember what he looks like. He’s always up here in the office with his nose stuck in some law book.”

Mason said, “Let’s take a look, Della,” and opened the door of the law library.

Jackson was seated at the table. Already an imposing array of open books had been erected in a semi-circular barricade around him, and he was so deeply engrossed in the volume he was reading, that he didn’t hear them enter.

For a moment Mason stood watching.

The expression on Jackson’s face was similar to that of a fisherman who has just received a strike in a deep pool and then, after a couple of fruitless casts, is looking through his fly book, trying to find something else the trout will take.

“Hello, Jackson,” Mason said, “you’re working late.”

Jackson looked up and blinked his eyes into focus. “A most interesting problem, Mr. Mason. It involves a potential conflict between provisions in a lease, one of them providing specifically that in the event a certain sum of money is not paid by a certain time, the lessee shall lose all rights and the other one, a blanket provision, to the effect that any breach can be cured within six months, unless the lessor has given a specific notice of termination.”

Mason sat down on the corner of the law library table, tapped a cigarette, snapped a match into flame and asked, “Getting anywhere?”

“Well, yes and no.”

“What’s your theory?” Mason asked.

Jackson placed the open law book on the table, shoved it slightly to one side, then, swinging around in the chair, pressed the tips of his fingers together.

“The first big hurdle to get over is the question of a forfeiture. The law doesn’t like forfeiture provisions in a document, and anything providing for a forfeiture is to be strictly construed. That would seem to subordinate the clause about payment of rental to the general clause providing that there can be performance at any time within six months unless a forfeiture has been sooner declared.”

Mason said, “Remember that this is an oil and gas lease, Jackson.”

“Well, what about it? It’s still a lease, isn’t it?”

Mason slid down from the corner of the library table, walked over to the shelf, ran his hand along the row of books, pulled down a red backed book, riffled through the pages, said, “Here’s a line of decisions for you to look up, Jackson, taking a view that forfeiture clauses are a necessary part of an oil lease and that the statutory provisions requiring a forfeiture to be strictly interpreted against the party for whose benefit it is created, doesn’t apply to oil leases.”

Jackson jerked upright in the chair. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” Mason said lazily. “See the case of John versus Elberta Oil Company, 124 Cal. App. 744; Slater versus Boyd, 12 °Cal. App. 457; Hall versus Augur, 82 Cal. App. 594.”

Jackson said, somewhat querulously, “That phase of it hadn’t occurred to me. I don’t know how it is you can walk into a law library and pick what you want out of thin air. I have to do a lot of plodding to even get the proper legal theory on which to work.”

Mason said, “The theory on which you want to work is always the theory on which the other man doesn’t want to work. How long will it be before you can give these women an opinion, Jackson?”

“Well, I’m hoping to have something by day after tomorrow, if it isn’t too complicated, and I have luck.”

Mason went back to perch on the edge of the table. He kept his right foot on the floor, swung his left foot in lazy swings. “Suppose that may be too late, Jackson?”

“I can’t help it. It’s the best I can do.”

“As I understand it, there’s a deal in escrow.”

“That’s right.”

Mason said, “A lot depends on how anxious Parker Benton is for this property.”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t want to buy a lawsuit,” Jackson said. “And yet, I don’t see any other way out. There certainly is a clause in that oil lease which gives the lessee a leg to stand on, for a prima-facie case and there’s nothing to prevent him filing suit.”

“Is the document recorded?”

“No, apparently it contained a provision to the effect that drilling operations had to start immediately if the document was recorded. That was by way of insurance that the lessor wouldn’t have his title all clouded up.”

Mason said, “I don’t think I’d go about it this way, Jackson.”

“How else can you go about it?”

“Who’s the man who has the oil lease?”

“A Scott Shelby.”

“In the telephone book?”

“I haven’t looked.”

Mason said to Della Street, “Take a look, Della.”

Della Street ran through the pages of the telephone book.

Mason said, almost musingly, “With a certain class of people, you have to be rough, Jackson.”

“Yes, I suppose so. However, the law is a very exact science. There is always a remedy, if one knows where to hunt for it.”

“And is smart enough to find it,” Mason supplemented. “And isn’t in a hurry. For my part, I have a different way of handling a chiseler.”

“What’s that?” Jackson asked.

“I kick his teeth in.”

Jackson winced. “That expression always makes me shiver,” he said. “I detest violence — of all forms.”

Mason said, “I love it.”

Della Street looked up, caught Mason’s eye, nodded.

Mason gave her a signal and Della Street’s nimble fingers whirred the dial of the telephone.

After a moment, she said into the telephone, “Mr. Scott Shelby, please, Mr. Mason’s office is calling.”

She held the line for a moment then looked up and nodded to Mason.

Mason came over to stand beside her, waited while she said, “Is this Mr. Shelby?... Just a moment Mr. Shelby. This is Mr. Mason’s office. Mr. Mason wants to talk with you.”

She handed the telephone to Mason and moved to one side.

Mason said, “Hello, Mr. Shelby.”

The voice which came over the wire was appraising, “Is this Mr. Perry Mason?”

“That’s right.”

“Was there something you wished?”

“Got a lawyer?” Mason asked.

“No. Why?”

“You’re going to need one.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.”

“May I ask why?”

Mason said, “I have something to say. It’s going to hurt. I’d prefer to deal with your lawyers.”

“If it involves oil matters,” Shelby said positively, “I don’t need any lawyer. I know more about oil leases than any lawyer I’ve ever talked with yet. What’s on your mind?”

“The Jane Keller lease.”

“What about it?”

“Suppose you tell me.”

Shelby said, “There’s nothing much to it, Mr. Mason. The lease is very simple and very plain. One of those straightforward documents that is put in ordinary business language and says what it means.”

“In fine print,” Mason commented.

“Well of course, it’s printed. It makes it a lot easier that way.”

“Sure it does — for you.”

“Now in this lease,” Shelby went on, “I was to pay a hundred dollars a month until I started drilling. Any time I didn’t pay, they could consider the lease at an end. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?”

“It would seem so.”

“But,” Shelby went on, “there was also a provision that if they didn’t terminate by notice, I could come back at any time within six months and reinstate myself. Apparently they overlooked that.”

“That your private joker, or did you borrow it?” Mason asked.

Shelby said suavely, “There’s no use you and me arguing over the telephone, Mr. Mason. I understand there’s a sale on. I don’t want to be shortchanged. I won’t have that property sold out from under me; but on the other hand, I don’t want to interfere with a good sale. Look here, Mr. Mason, why don’t you run over and have a chat with me?”

“Come on over here,” Mason invited. “I’ll wait.”

“No, I’d prefer to talk in my office if we’re going to talk. You know how those things are... Now in this case, I understand the deal is just about ready to go through escrow. I don’t want to do anything to rock the boat unless I have to. Why don’t you come over...”

“I’ll be over,” Mason said.

“How soon?”

“Ten minutes.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Mason hung up the telephone, said “Close up your law books and go home, Jackson.”

Jackson was watching Mason with shocked eyes. “Good heavens, Mr. Mason! You’re seeing this man, and you don’t even know what’s in the lease yet.”

“I’ll damn soon find out,” Mason said. “Come on, Della. I’ll want a witness.”

“Can I be of help in that respect?” Jackson asked dubiously.

“Hell no,” Mason told him cheerfully. “This guy’s a chiseler. The party’s going to be rough. You’d have a nervous breakdown. Let’s go, Della.”

“Coming,” she said.

Jackson’s strickened, pale eyes rebuked them out of the office.