The Case of the Lazy Lover

3

Ten minutes after Allred had left, Gertie, Mason’s receptionist, tiptoed personally into Mason’s office to announce in an awed voice, “Gee, Mr. Mason, the bank president’s out there.”

“Who?” Mason asked.

“Mr. Mervin Canby, president of the Farmers, Merchants & Mechanics Bank. He wants to see you upon a matter he says is confidential.”

“Well, send him in,” Mason said.

“Right away?”

“Right now!”

“Yes, Mr. Mason. I — well, I thought I’d better tell you instead of telephoning you.”

“That’s fine, Gertie. Send him in.”

Mason and Della Street exchanged glances as Gertie vanished through the door to the outer office.

Mervin Canby, a frosty, gray man with gray hair, gray eyebrows, gray mustache, and gray eyes, had a cordial smile for Della Street, another for Mason. But there was no great warmth about him, and his manner indicated quite plainly that he was calling upon a serious matter of business.

“Sit down,” Mason invited.

Canby settled himself in the chair, said, “I’ll come directly to the point, Mr. Mason. I’m a busy man and I know you’re a busy man.”

Mason nodded.

“You deposited two checks with us, Mr. Mason. One of them was on our bank, was in your favor in an amount of twenty-five hundred dollars and signed by Lola Faxon Allred.”

Mason said nothing, waiting for the banker to go on.

“The other check,” Canby said, “was drawn on the First National Bank of Las Olitas. That too was in your favor. That too was in an amount of twenty-five hundred dollars.

“When you deposited those checks,” Canby said, “you asked the cashier to examine them with great care.”

“Miss Street did that,” Mason said.

“May I ask, Mr. Mason, if that was at your suggestion?”

“It was.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to make certain the checks were good.”

“That is hardly a customary practice.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Did you have some reason to believe those checks were not in order?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer. Suppose you tell me first why you’re here.”

Canby said, “The cashier kept thinking things over. After you had left he came to me and asked my advice. I examined the checks and then sent for our handwriting expert.”

“Isn’t that rather unusual?” Mason asked.

“I found something on one of the checks which puzzled me,” Canby said. “I wanted to have my judgment checked by a professional. Of course, his opinion at the present moment is more or less tentative — that is, on one check. On the other, the situation is different.”

“In what way?”

“The check drawn upon us is apparently signed by Lola Faxon Allred. The check drawn on the First National Bank at Las Olitas is quite possibly forged.”

“The deuce, it is!” Mason ejaculated.

“That’s right. The forgery can be demonstrated.”

“How?”

“By the aid of a microscope. Someone traced the signature on the check with a piece of carbon paper. That’s one of the oldest forms of forgery known and a modification of the tracing formula. A person gets a paper bearing the genuine signature of the one whose name he wants to forge. He puts a sheet of carbon paper under that signature and the document which is to be forged, underneath the carbon paper. Then very gently the forger runs a toothpick or other pointed instrument over the lines of the genuine signature. The pressure is light enough so that it leaves a barely perceptible carbon paper imprint of the signature on the paper beneath.”

“Then what?” Mason asked.

“Then the forger takes a pen, usually a pen with a quite heavy ink, such perhaps as black drawing ink, or any India ink.”

“Go ahead.”

“And traces loop by loop, line by line, over the carbon paper signature. Frankly, Mr. Mason, it makes a most excellent forgery, one which, when skillfully done, can only be detected by an expert — depending somewhat upon the age, the mentality, and the emotions of the person forging the signature. The pen, of course, moves more slowly than in the case of a genuine signature. Therefore, if a person is nervous, there are more apt to be microscopic irregularities in the lines of the signature, due to tremors. But if a person has a steady hand and is free from mental excitement, the forgery can be made quite convincing.”

Mason merely nodded.

“The forged check in this instance,” Canby went on, “was made either by someone who had passed middle age or someone who was under an emotional tension. While the naked eye shows nothing, the microscope does show very distinct tremor lines.”

“Indeed,” Mason said.

“So,” Canby went on, “I wanted to get in touch with you and find out exactly what you know about that check.”

“Why not get in touch with Mrs. Allred?”

“We’ve tried that. It seems that she is not available at the moment.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She apparently left with friends on a motor trip. Her husband seems to take her absence very lightly, says that he hasn’t the faintest idea where to reach her and won’t have until she sends him word from somewhere. He says she went off with some friends of hers who are interested in photography and they’re just wandering about.”

“Doesn’t seem to be the least bit disturbed about her absence?”

Canby looked at Mason sharply. “Any reason why he should?”

Mason said irritably, “Don’t try that stuff on me, Canby. My questions are for the purpose of trying to help you. If you’re going to adopt that attitude, I’ll simply wash my hands of the whole affair.”

“Of course, you deposited the check,” Canby pointed out.

“Certainly, I did,” Mason said, “and I’ll tell you where I got it. I got it through the mail, in an envelope, and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“It puts the bank in a very peculiar position,” Canby said. “Of course, Mason, there is always a chance that the check that was drawn on us is a forgery.”

“I thought you said your expert pronounced the signature genuine?”

“He has made a preliminary examination in which he says that there are indications the signature is genuine. In other words, there are no definite indications of forgery which he’s been able to discover on that check, as yet.”

“Well,” Mason asked, “what are you trying to do? Did you come to tell me that you weren’t going to honor the check?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Well, what?”

“However,” Canby said, “under the circumstances, I thought that you should know, and perhaps you might care to withdraw that check until such time as you can satisfy yourself.”

“I’m satisfied now,” Mason said. “The cashier says it’s a good check. Your handwriting expert says it’s a good check.”

“But the check which was deposited with it was quite evidently a forgery, a very clever forgery.”

“Well?”

“That, of course, would make the check drawn on us a subject for careful scrutiny.”

“Hang it,” Mason said, “give it careful scrutiny. That’s what I’ve wanted all along. That’s what I told you to do.”

“I’d like to know something more about the circumstances under which those checks were received, Mr. Mason. And I hope you’ll agree with me that the safe thing to do, under the circumstances, is to hold up payment until we can contact Mrs. Allred.”

“Isn’t the check good?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not notify the police?”

“That, of course, might prove very embarrassing,” Canby said, shifting his position uneasily. “The family is quite wealthy, Mr. Mason.”

Mason said, “Look, you have a lawyer. I’m not your lawyer. Why not ask him what to do about it? You’re holding a check which may be forged. If it is forged, you want to apprehend the forger.”

“Of course,” Canby murmured, “our handwriting expert has been unable as yet to discover anything significant. It may take several days for him to get his records established. Even then he may run into some complicating circumstance. Generally, Mr. Mason, the bank is liable for payment of the forged check, whereas payment of a raised check depends on a question of negligence.”

Mason grinned at him and said, “You’ll pardon me, Canby. It’s your baby.”

“But it’s your check — the one that’s forged.”

“So it is,” Mason said.

“And we can’t pass it for payment.”

“That’s your problem, Canby.”

Gertie, the receptionist, appeared in the door with a telegram.

Mason nodded to Della Street. “See what it is, Della.”

Della Street opened the telegram, looked at Mason rather quizzically, then glanced at Canby.

“Go ahead,” Mason said. “Read it.”

Della Street took it over and handed it to the lawyer.

Mason looked at it, said, “Humph,” then read the wire aloud:

“This wire,” Mason said, “was sent from Springfield,” and handed the message to the banker.

Canby studied it, said, “It’s a day letter sent at nine o’clock this morning from Springfield. She refers to a twenty-five hundred dollar retainer, but, as I understand it, you received two twenty-five hundred dollar checks.”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “One of them is apparently a forgery.”

“Yes, yes, so it is.”

“The other check apparently isn’t. Mrs. Allred wants me to do something for her daughter. If you hold up payment on that check, it’s your responsibility.”

“Well,” Canby said, “this wire is all our bank needs. The twenty-five hundred dollar check drawn on us will be put through to your account, Mr. Mason.”

“I take it,” Mason said quite casually, “there are ample funds in Mrs. Allred’s account to cover the check.”

The banker smiled. “Her account is very substantial, Mr. Mason.”

“Just idle money?”

“She likes to have large cash balances, I believe.”

“Do you know anything about this account at Las Olitas?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, thanks for calling,” Mason said somewhat abruptly and Canby, recognizing that the interview was over, shook hands and departed, a quiet shadowy man, obviously dissatisfied with his interview.

As soon as the door closed, Mason said to Della Street, “That’s a typical banker for you, Della. His handwriting expert can’t find anything wrong with that first check, yet the bank is so cautious, it won’t pay. Then along comes a telegram which has only a typewritten signature, but is on a sheet of perfectly genuine Western Union yellow paper, and the bank falls all over itself being co-operative.

“Anyone can send any telegram he wants and sign any name to it he feels like — but bankers swallow anything which seems ‘in due course’ and choke to death over the unusual. The ideal way to approach a banker is with a rubber stamp.

“Go down the hall, Della; get Paul Drake of the Drake Detective Agency to come in here. I want to find out who actually sent that wire.”