The Case of the Long-Legged Models

Chapter Four

Stephanie Falkner showed up on the stroke of ten for her appointment.

Mason regarded her thoughtfully. “I’ve heard from Homer Garvin.”

“Where is he?”

“He called me,” Mason said, “from a pay station telephone. He was in Las Vegas when he telephoned. He wants me to act as his representative. He wants me to call on this party whom you refer to as Mr. X. He wants me to size the man up and feel him out. He doesn’t want to put any price on his stock until after I have explored the situation.”

“I see,” she said thoughtfully.

“Is that all right with you?” Mason asked.

“It’s not what I had in mind, but anything Mr. Garvin wants is all right with me.”

“Would you care to tell me who Mr. X is and where I can find him?”

She hesitated a moment, said, “His name is George Casselman. I am to meet him at Apartment 211 at the Ambrose Apartments at eight-thirty tonight, and to save you the trouble of looking up the address, it’s 948 Christine Drive.

“Please remember to tell Mr. Garvin for me that I will be guided by his wishes in the matter. I will keep my appointment but only for the purpose of holding the situation open.

“Thank you very much for having been so patient with me and for seeing me, Mr. Mason, and good morning.”

She arose, smiled, turned her back abruptly and walked out.

Della Street said to Perry Mason, “I’d be willing to bet that her abrupt departure was because there’s something she was afraid you were going to ask her if she waited.

“Let me go out and talk with Gertie. Gertie gets some wild ideas at times, but she notices things while clients are waiting in the outer office and there are times when Gertie is almost psychic.”

Della Street left to talk with the receptionist, was back in a matter of seconds with a newspaper.

“No wonder!” she said.

“What?”

“Homer Garvin, Jr. returned home on an afternoon plane yesterday. He brought his bride with him. He was married in Chicago.”

“Oh-oh,” Mason said.

“Leave it to Gertie,” Della Street said. “She’s an incurable romanticist. She faithfully reads the society columns and all about the weddings. Would you like to look at a picture of Homer Garvin and his bride taken at the plane?”

Mason regarded the picture thoughtfully.

“A good-looking girl,” he said at length. “Anything about her background?”

“She has been a publicity model at once of the Las Vegas resorts,” Della Street said. “Young Garvin met her there a couple of months ago.”

“He works fast,” Mason said.

“Or she does,” Della Street pointed out.

“Well,” Mason said, “that can account for a lot of things. Ring up the Double-O Motel in Las Vegas, Della. See if you can get Homer Garvin. If you can’t, ask for Lucille and relay the message that the name Mr. Garvin wanted is that of George Casselman, that the address is 948 Christine Drive in the Ambrose Apartments, Apartment 211.”

Della Street nodded, left the office and was back in ten minutes.

“I couldn’t get him, Chief, but I did talk with Lucille and left the message with her.”

“Did you get her last name or find out anything about her?”

“From the way she answered the phone I have an idea she’s the manager of the motel. I simply asked for Lucille and the woman who had answered said that she was Lucille. I told her my name and she asked if I had a message for Mr. Garvin. So I gave her Casselman’s name and address.”

Mason lit a cigarette, and frowned thoughtfully.

“So what do you do, if anything?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “Under the circumstances, I think I am free to call on Mr. Casselman this evening before Stephanie Falkner gets there. I suppose further that a wedding present is in order for Homer Garvin, Jr. You had better organize yourself into a shopping department, Della... something around fifty dollars.”

“Will Casselman talk with you?” Della Street asked.

“I don’t know,” Mason said, “but if he’s in, I’ll talk with him!”