The Case of the Lazy Lover

11

Mason unlocked the door of his private office, entered, nodded to Della, scaled his hat toward the shelf of the hat closet, walked over to his desk and sat down.

“Didn’t you sleep at all?” Della Street asked.

Mason shook his head. “Anything from Drake?”

“Yes. He’s had a man up at the wreck and has some photographs. This man knew the highway police who were in charge, and he picked up about all the information there was.”

“How did they happen to find the car?”

“At the point where the car was driven off the road, there was a guard rail.”

“A hell of a place to pick to send a car off the road,” Mason said.

“Car pretty badly smashed?”

“Smashed to kindling,” Della said.

Mason said, “Get Paul Drake in here.”

Della Street said, “Dixon Keith is waiting out there. He’s been waiting for a while. He was there in the corridor when we opened the office,”

“Dixon Keith?” Mason asked.

“The one who has the fraud suit against Allred.”

“Okay,” Mason said, “get Drake first. Then go out and soothe Dixon Keith so he’ll wait. Tell him I’ve phoned and expect to be in in just a few minutes. I don’t want him to leave.”

Mason settled back in the chair, stroked his forehead with his fingertips. Della Street put through a call to Paul Drake, said, “He’ll be right in, Chief. Did you have breakfast?”

“Breakfast and a shave,” Mason said. “A hot bath and clean clothes. Did the police find a gun on Allred’s body by any chance?”

“I don’t know,” Della Street said. “I... here’s Paul Drake!”

Drake’s code knock sounded on the door of the office.

Mason nodded to Della Street. She opened the door, and Drake, gaunt and haggard, with stubble rough on his jaw, entered the room and surveyed Mason bleakly.

Mason grinned. “You look as though you’ve been busy.”

“I have.”

“I thought you told me that you kept an electric razor in your office so you could shave in between phone calls.”

“I do,” Drake said. “I have. But, what the hell? I haven’t had any time between phone calls. I’ve been busy!”

“Give.”

Drake said, “The place where the car went off the road was within five miles of the Snug-Rest Auto Court. It’s the worst place anywhere along the road, and the road is bad enough, at that. There’s a guard rail. The car had plowed right through the guard rail. No wonder! It had been locked in low gear and the hand throttle pulled all the way out. The police were able to determine that much from what was left of the car.”

“The body was first identified as that of Fleetwood?”

“That’s right.”

“Allred had Fleetwood’s billfold?”

“He had Fleetwood’s billfold, cigarette case, fountain pen. Quite a bit of stuff.”

“Any explanation?”

“No explanation.”

“And there was a key to the Snug-Rest Auto Court?”

“That’s right. A key to Fleetwood’s cabin.”

“How did Allred get that?”

“No explanation so far, Perry. The key was loose in the car.”

“There was blood on the carpet of the luggage compartment?”

“That’s right.”

“Did Allred have a gun?”

“No.”

Mason said, “Paul, I want you to find Fleetwood!”

Drake’s laugh was sarcastic. “Who doesn’t?”

“I want to find him just a little worse than anyone else wants to find him.”

“When you find him, he’ll be dead.”

Mason said, “We have an inside track on one thing, Paul.”

“What?”

“Fleetwood is either suffering from amnesia or was pretending to suffer from amnesia. If it’s a genuine case of amnesia, he’ll still be wandering around in a daze. If it’s a gag, I think Fleetwood will try keeping it up.”

“Unless he’s dead,” Drake said.

“Someone,” Mason said, “drove that car off the grade. What time did it happen, Paul?”

“The clock on the dashboard says eleven-ten. Allred’s wrist watch says eleven-ten.”

“That, of course, could have been fixed. The watches could have been set ahead.”

“Or behind,” Drake said.

Mason nodded.

“What does Fleetwood’s amnesia have to do with it?”

Mason said, “You have men up there, Paul?”

“Have I got men up there!” Drake said wearily. “I’ll say I’ve got men up there. They’re spotted around at every telephone, phoning in such information as they’re able to pick up, and standing by for instructions.”

Mason said, “I want to try side roads, Paul. I want the places where a man could wander off the main highway. Do you know if Fleetwood knows the country at all?”

“He should,” Drake said. “It was up there that Allred and Fleetwood put through that mining deal there was trouble about, the one where they sold a controlling interest in the mine, then got the stockholders to believe there had been some skulduggery and...”

“I know all about that,” Mason said. “So that was up in this country, was it? And Fleetwood was Allred’s right-hand man at the time?”

“Yes.”

“Then he must be familiar with the country. All right. Cover every side road,” Mason ordered.

“The police theory,” Drake said, “is that Fleetwood started hitchhiking and is probably five hundred miles away by this time — unless he’s dead. There’s an idea on the part of some of the detectives that Fleetwood’s body will be found not over three or four hundred yards from the Snug-Rest Auto Court.”

“No chance that this thing was an accident?” Mason asked.

“You mean Allred?”

“Yes.”

“Hell, no. The thing was typical. The killer made the same mistake such people always make. In place of leaving the car in high gear the way it would have been if the thing had been accidental, the killer left the car in low gear. Whoever it was, stood on the running board, pointed the car for the precipice, pulled the hand throttle all the way out, and stepped off the running board. The car roared down the slope, hurtled off into space and undoubtedly made a beautiful crash seconds later.”

“Any bullet holes in the body?”

“No. Apparently he was killed by having been beaten over the head.”

“Or hitting his head when the car went over the grade?”

“Probably he was dead before that. The autopsy surgeon seems to think he was.”

“How long before?”

“The autopsy surgeon isn’t sticking his neck out, but I gather he wouldn’t be too much surprised if Allred had been dead for an hour or so before the car went over the grade.”

“When did they discover it?”

“Around three o’clock in the morning. The traffic officers went to the Snug-Rest Auto Court as soon as they found the door key to a cabin there in the car. With those telephone calls it didn’t take long to get the lead on that apartment at Las Olitas.”

“If Mrs. Allred had been planning murder,” Mason said, “she’d hardly have left as broad a clue as that!”

“You can’t tell,” Drake said. “My hunch is, Perry, that the police are right. Either Fleetwood is dead, or else he’s making tracks. My best guess is he’s on an airplane right this minute, or else dead as a herring.”

“That amnesia business may be a big thing,” Mason said. “He’s already laid the foundation for it. It’s what I’d do under those circumstances. Go ahead and cover the Springfield territory, every ranch, every house, Paul.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“And in case they should find him,” Mason said, “tell them not to tip their hand at all. Just beat it to a phone and let us know. That other detective agency still on the job, Paul?”

“I’ll say it is, but the boys evidently aren’t covering the local angles. They’re looking for Fleetwood the same places the police are.”

“That’s always a mistake,” Mason grinned. “Okay, Paul, get started.”

Drake left the office and Mason nodded to Della Street. “Let’s see what Dixon Keith wants, Della.”

Dixon Keith, an alert, square-shouldered chap in the late thirties, had dark, restless eyes, dark hair that was beginning to thin at the temples, and the quick springy steps of an athlete. His legs were short, but he had broad shoulders and a thick chest.

He wasted no time in coming to the point.

“Mason,” he said, “I guess you know about me.”

Mason nodded.

“I’m having a lawsuit with Bertrand Allred and George Jerome. They’re a couple of high-powered crooks who have been getting by with murder. I’ve found out a lot about them since I’ve engaged in a little business deal with them.”

“And you have a lawyer who is representing you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think it would be better for you to have your lawyer with you when you come here?”

Keith shook his head. “I can tell you what I want in a very few words, Mr. Mason. It’s purely a business proposition. It isn’t a legal matter at all. It’s straight business.”

“What is it?”

“You and I are both over twenty-one, Mr. Mason. We know that no one gets something for nothing. I want something. I’m prepared to give something.”

“What do you want, and what are you prepared to give,” Mason asked, “bearing in mind that my primary duty is to my client?”

“That’s right. You’re representing Mrs. Allred, and unless I miss my guess, she’s in a jam.”

“Indeed?” Mason said, raising his eyebrows.

Keith said, “Look, Mason, let’s not kid each other. You have your detective agency working on this case. I have my detective agency working on the case. You’ve got a damn good detective agency and I’ve got a damn good detective agency. I don’t know how much you know and you don’t know how much I know, but we wouldn’t be paying out good money for detectives unless we were getting something. Right?”

Mason smiled, “Right!”

“Bertrand Allred’s body was found in his wife’s car. The car was driven over a rocky precipice and was left in low gear — a dead giveaway. It’s a little difficult to do a job like that and leave the car in high gear, but it can be done.”

“You talk as though you’d tried it,” Mason said.

“I did a little experimenting,” Keith admitted, “in order to find out what a person would have to do to put a car over a slope like that. You can start it running in low gear, open the door, jump to the running board and get away pretty easy. But when you shift into high gear, then you have a problem on your hands. If there’s a steep enough slope for the car to run off the highway through the brush, the car gets to going pretty fast before you can bail out. The best way is to put the car into high gear, turn the ignition on, put on the emergency brake, then get out, take off the emergency brake and let the car start rolling. As the car gathers momentum, since it’s in gear it starts turning the motor, and that starts the engine running. Then if the hand throttle is on a little bit, the car really shoots ahead.”

“Too bad you couldn’t have told the murderer about that,” Mason said.

“It is, for a fact,” Keith admitted. “Leaving the car in low gear was a technical error. That means you’re going to have a little tougher job than you would have had otherwise.”

“Assuming that my client is a murderer.”

“Assuming that your client will be accused of murder,” Keith said. “You know it and I know it.”

Mason said, “You seem to have given this a good deal of thought.”

“This thing is going to concern me,” Keith admitted. “I have to find Robert Gregg Fleetwood.”

“I understand quite a few people are looking for him.”

“Let’s not beat around the bush, Mason. You want him because you think that if you find him and get a statement from him, you may get something that will help your client. I want him because if I find him and get a statement from him, I can win my lawsuit. Furthermore, I can straighten out a lot of things.

“Fleetwood has for some time been Allred’s right-hand man. Allred hatches up the schemes and Fleetwood helps put them into execution. Fleetwood has a lot of admiration for Bertrand Allred and would do damn near anything Allred told him to.

“From all I can find out about Fleetwood, he wanted to get ahead in the world. He had the idea that you didn’t get ahead by being too damn altruistic. If you wanted things out of the world, you went out and got them. Otherwise, you didn’t get them. Allred inculcated that philosophy in him.

“Now if Fleetwood wants to talk, and I think perhaps he may want to talk, he can tell a lot. The things he’ll tell are things I want to hear, but I want to hear them first.

“I’m going to make you a proposition. You want to get hold of Fleetwood before anyone else gets hold of him. If you find Fleetwood, I feel sure you’ll talk with him about the thing that you want to know about. Then you’ll turn him over to the police.

“That’s where my proposition comes in. I’ll pay you well not to turn him over to the police, but to turn him over to me.”

Mason grinned. “You have detectives working on the job. You admit you’ve found out quite a good deal. Now suppose you get hold of him before I do. Will you turn him over to me? After you’ve got a statement from him?”

Keith shook his head determinedly.

“Why not?”

“Because I want the good will of the police. I can make quite a grandstand if I can turn Fleetwood over to the police. After I get a statement from him, I want to be damned certain that statement isn’t changed in any way. I think perhaps the police can help me there a little bit.”

“So you want me to play ball with you, but you won’t play ball with me?”

Keith didn’t hesitate for a minute. “That’s quite right.”

Mason merely smiled.

“On the other hand, Mr. Mason, I have inducements which I can offer.”

“Money?”

“Money.”

“How much?”

“Quite a bit. A certain amount for being put in touch with Fleetwood, and a further amount if he can answer some of the questions I want answered.”

“What are they?”

“I’ll leave you a list that will contain the answers that I hope Fleetwood will give, the answers that will be to my advantage.”

Mason shook his head and laughed.

“What’s wrong with that?” Keith asked.

“Everything’s wrong with it,” Mason said. “You want me to act as a sort of a coach for Fleetwood.”

“I don’t see what you mean.”

“The hell you don’t. You’ll give me a certain, rather modest, amount for putting you in touch with Fleetwood. You’ll give me quite a bit more money in the event he answers questions the way you’ll want them answered. You’ll leave me the list of the questions and a list of the answers you want Fleetwood to give. I’d be a damn poor lawyer if I didn’t realize that it was to my advantage to have Fleetwood answer the questions just that way, and it would be quite a temptation in running over the list with him to try and see that he did answer them that way.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? It’s done every day. Whenever any lawyer takes a suit, he knows what answers the witnesses are supposed to give if he’s going to win that suit.”

Mason said, “The discussion is academic, anyway, because when I get hold of Fleetwood, I’m going to take him to the police myself. That’s in case the police want him.”

“You can get one thousand dollars by turning him over to me.”

“Okay,” Mason said grinning. “The line forms at the right.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. He studied Mason thoughtfully for a few seconds, then said, “That should have occurred to me earlier. Mason, I want to be sure that if there’s any line that forms at the right, I’m standing at the head of it.”

“So I gathered.”

“All right, just so you know. I’ll top any other bid,” Keith said and walked out.

Mason got up and started pacing the office floor, swinging rhythmically back and forth, his thumbs pushed into the armholes of his vest, his head bowed in concentration.

Della Street was watching him silently when the phone on Mason’s desk rang. She picked up the instrument.

“Hello... yes, Paul... okay... All right, hang on to the line; I’ll tell him.” Della looked over at Mason, “Drake says there are detectives watching the office here. He says he thinks they are employed by Dixon Keith and that the idea is that if you should start out of here in a hurry, the detectives will figure you’re going to get Fleetwood and will tag along behind.”

Mason laughed, “I’d already anticipated that. Let me talk with Paul.” Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Hello, Paul. I’m going to leave the office. I’ll shake the shadows and establish headquarters where the shadows can’t pick me up.

“You stick in your office and wait for my call. I think this man Fleetwood is a lot more important than anyone realizes.”

“Okay,” Drake said, “but what are you going to do if you locate him, Perry? Think you can make him talk?”

“I’ll try to make him talk,” Mason said, “but I’ll sew him up first.”

“Suppose he doesn’t want to go with you?”

“I’ll make him. I think I know how it can be done.”

“Well, that’s your funeral,” Drake said. “There are penalties for kidnaping, you know.”

“I know,” Mason said. “I read a law book once.”

Drake laughed, “Watch your step, Perry. This is going to get pretty hot.”

Mason hung up the phone and said to Della Street, “I want to ditch those detectives, Della, and I want to do it in such a way it will never occur to them that I deliberately ditched them. Get Gertie in here, will you? Tell her to lock the outer door. We’ll close up the office.”

Della Street nodded, glided out of the office, and a few moments later returned with Gertie, the big, affable, somewhat overweight receptionist.

Mason said, “I want you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” she said.

“How would you like to act the part of a married woman for a while?”

Gertie grinned. “What is this, Mr. Mason, a proposal or a proposition?”

“A proposition.”

“They all are,” Gertie said. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

“I’m hoping we can locate a man by the name of Fleetwood. He either is an amnesia victim or he’s pretending to be an amnesia victim. I’m rather anxious to find out which.”

Gertie nodded.

“The police are looking for Fleetwood, and at least one other private detective agency is looking for him. The man is hotter than a stovelid.

“Now then, the play is to get Fleetwood where he is entirely in our control. That isn’t going to be easy. Fleetwood isn’t going to want to play. If it really is amnesia, he’s going to need convincing. If he has been faking, he’s not going to like any part of it. But a man who is pretending amnesia is exceedingly vulnerable.”

“How?” Della asked.

“If you tell him anything about his past life, he isn’t in any position to contradict you.”

Della Street’s face lit up as Mason’s idea impressed itself upon her. “Then you mean that Gertie...”

Mason grinned.

“What’s the bird like?” Gertie demanded.

“I think he’s quite a wolf, Gertie. Long eyelashes, dark wavy hair, the romantic type...”

“Sold,” Gertie announced, and then added with a laugh, “and, I’ll either crack that alibi of his or I’ll prove that he has genuine amnesia. One or the other.”

Mason said, “I’ll bet you will! But first, detectives are watching the office. I want to ditch them once and for all, but I don’t want them to know that I am trying to ditch them or they will realize we’ve got something important on.

“Here’s what we’ll do. We leave the office together. Downstairs in the lobby we stop and chat for a minute or so. Then I leave you two as though I were starting for court.

“You go into the department store across the street. I’ll take the car, drive two blocks down the street and park in front of a fire plug. At this time of day cars will be parked solid everywhere else. Now, the shadows, if they’re clever, will be following along behind. There will be two of them, one to stay in the automobile and the other to follow me in case I should leave my car. They won’t be able to park anywhere near me, and they won’t dare to double-park. That will take care of the car and the driver. He’ll just have to keep going. The second man will have to jump out and follow me on foot. I won’t try and ditch him at all. I’ll go to the nearest telephone, call up Paul Drake, give him some instructions, leave the phone and start walking down the street as though, after my conversation with Drake, I’d thought of something else I had to do.

“You girls leave the department store, walk down the street and you’ll find my automobile parked in front of a fire plug on the right-hand side two blocks down. I’ll pick the first fire plug I can find. Della, you have the keys to my car. There’ll probably be a parking tag on it. You may even find the cop in the act of putting on the tag and he’ll start bawling you out. Don’t pay any attention to that. Just get in and drive off. I’ll go into the interurban station. My man will be following me, of course, but by that time his partner and his car will be out of the running. Now you synchronize your watches with mine. I’ll take the first interurban car that leaves after an interval of exactly twenty minutes to the second from the time I say good-by to you girls. I’ll be back in the car in a seat on the right-hand side, next to the window. For all my shadow can tell, I’ll be going all the way on the interurban.

“You girls drive on out Seventh Street, park the car at a point that’s far enough out so that my shadow can’t pick up a taxicab. You keep watch on the red interurban cars. I’ll be watching for you. When my car passes, I’ll signal you and you fall in behind the car. I’ll ride out to a point that’s sufficiently isolated, then get off. My shadow will, of course, be right behind me. But you’ll be there with the car. I’ll step into the automobile, and as I do so, I’ll tell you all about exactly how many minutes it took me to go from the terminal to the point where I got off. The shadow will think I was making some sort of a test to check up on the story of a witness and he’ll be left there twiddling his thumbs, hoping for a taxi, perhaps trying to stop some passing motorist and offer him five bucks to follow us.

“The whole thing will depend on split-second timing. We want to get away from there fast, before the shadow can make any possible connections with any kind of transportation, so be sure we have a smooth, steady, well-timed operation that goes like clockwork.”

“And then?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “Then you make the first turn off the main road and I’ll tell you where to go from there. We’ll wind up in Gertie’s apartment. Gertie, you’re inviting us to spend the day and to have dinner. We’ll pick up some food at a delicatessen place, and wait up in your apartment.”

Gertie said, “Gee that’s swell. I just started one of those diets and I’ve counted calories until I feel like my belt buckle is scraping against my backbone. I’ve just been looking for a good excuse to throw the whole thing overboard, and I think this is it! You always did like tenderloin steaks, Mr. Mason, and my butcher said he’d been saving some for me. After all, when a girl changes from the status of an unattached female to a blushing bride, the occasion calls for some celebration.”