The Case of the Mischievous Doll

Chapter Four

At ten o’clock the next morning Paul Drake’s code knock sounded on the door of Mason’s private office.

Mason nodded to Della Street, who opened the door for the detective.

“Hi, Beautiful,” Paul said. “It does you good to get out and dance. Your eyes look like the depths of a deep pool in the moonlight.”

Della Street smiled, said, “And it does you good to sit in an office and drink cold coffee and eat soggy hamburgers. Your mind is filled with matters of romance.”

Drake made a wry face. “I can taste that cold coffee yet.”

He turned to Perry Mason. “I sent Jerry Nelson down to the hearing on the report for probation and the fixing of sentence in Minerva Minden’s case, Perry. I gave him your number and told him to report to me here. I felt that you’d want to know just as soon as I heard from him.”

Mason nodded.

“I held him up a little while,” Drake said, “because it wasn’t certain that Minerva Minden was going to be in court personally. She might have appeared through an attorney.”

“She’s there?” Mason asked.

“In person, with all her charm,” Drake said. “She is adept at showing just enough leg to win the judge over to her side and stop just short of indecent exposure. That’s quite a gal.”

Drake looked at his watch. “We should be hearing from Nelson any minute now.”

“Wasn’t there some litigation over the Minden inheritance?” Della asked.

Drake grinned. “There was some and there could have been a hell of a lot more. Old Harper Minden left a whale of a fortune and not a single heir in the world that anybody could find until finally some enterprising investigator dug up Minerva.

“Minerva at the time was slinging hash and was something of a problem. She was supposed to be wild in those days. Now that she’s got a whole flock of money, she’s a quote madcap unquote.”

“But Harper Minden wasn’t her grandfather, was he?” Mason asked.

“Hell, no. He was related to her through some sort of a collateral relationship, and actually the bulk of the estate is still tied up. Minerva has received a partial distribution of five or six million, but—”

“Before taxes?” Mason asked.

“Proviso in the will that the estate was to pay all taxes,” Drake said, “and boy, it was quite a bite. But old Harper sure had it piled up. He had so much money he didn’t know how much he had. He had gold mines, oil wells, real estate, the works.”

The telephone rang.

“That’s probably Jerry now,” Drake said.

Della answered the phone, nodded to Paul and held out the receiver.

Drake said, “You have an attachment you can put this on a loudspeaker, haven’t you, Della?”

She nodded, pressed a button, and put a conference microphone in the middle of Mason’s desk.

“All the voices will come in,” she said.

Drake, sitting some ten feet from the microphone, said, “Hello, Jerry. Can you hear me?”

“Sure I can hear you,” Nelson said, his voice, amplified through a loudspeaker, filling Mason’s office.

“You seen this gal yet?” Drake asked.

“Have I seen her?” Jerry said. “I’m still gasping for breath.”

“That much of a knockout?”

“Not only that much of a knockout, but that much of a resemblance.”

“She’s really a dead ringer?”

“Well, not exactly a dead ringer but it would easily be possible to get them mixed. Now look, Paul, is there any chance those girls are related? I mean closely related. Does anybody know whether Minerva Minden had a sister?”

“She wasn’t supposed to have,” Drake said.

“Well, as I remember it,” Nelson said, “the thing was mixed up in some kind of litigation. Minerva Minden was able to prove her relationship so she got several million dollars, but the family tree has never been completely uncovered. There was some talk about Minerva’s mother having a sister who might have had a child before she died.”

“You feel pretty certain the two women are related?” Drake asked.

“I’d bet my last cent they’re relatives,” Nelson said. “I’ve never seen anything so completely confusing in my life. The two women look alike, they’re built the same way, they have the same mannerisms. Their voices are different and the hair and general coloring is a little different but there’s one hell of a resemblance. I don’t know what you fellows are working on. I suppose it ties in with that inheritance. There’s still twenty or thirty million dollars to be distributed. All I want to say is that you’ve struck pay dirt.”

“Okay,” Drake said, glancing at Mason, “keep that angle under your hat. Where are you now?”

“Up at court.”

“And what’s happening?”

“Oh, the usual thing. The judge is looking over his glasses at Minerva and giving her a lecture. He’s imposed a five-hundred-dollar fine on each of the two charges, making a total of a thousand dollars, and he’s busy now explaining to her that it was touch and go with him whether to give her a jail sentence as well; that he finally decided against it because he feels that in her case it wouldn’t do any good. He’s read the report of the probation officer, he’s heard the application for probation, and despite the vehement requests of the defence attorney, he is going to deny probation and let the fines stand. He feels that it would be unfair to give this defendant probation.”

“Okay,” Drake said, “keep on the job and study her as much as possible.”

“Boy, I’ve studied her!” Nelson said.

“Okay,” Drake told him, “come on up then. Has she noticed you staring?”

“Hell, it’s a crowded courtroom,” Nelson said. “Everybody’s staring.”

“Well, come on up,” Drake said.

“Okay. Bye now.”

“Goodbye.”

Della Street pressed the button that turned off the telephone. “What do you know,” Drake said, looking at Mason.

“Apparently not half enough,” Mason said thoughtfully.

“What’s the story behind all this, Perry?” Paul asked.

“Apparently,” Mason said, “Minerva Minden wanted a ringer to take a rap for her.”

“The hit-and-run?” Drake asked.

Mason nodded thoughtfully.

“So what happened?”

“So,” Mason said, “you may have noticed an ad in the paper a while ago offering a salary of a thousand dollars a month to a woman who had certain physical qualifications as to age, height, complexion and weight, and could qualify for the job.”

“I didn’t notice it,” Drake said.

“Apparently a lot of people did,” Mason told him, “and the women were given an intensive screening. They wanted someone who could wear Minerva Minden’s clothes, or clothes that would duplicate hers, and spend some time walking back and forth past the scene of the accident where at least one of the witnesses lived and where an identification would be made.”

“Of the wrong woman?”

“Of the wrong woman,” Mason said. “That would let Minerva off the hook. If they subsequently found out it was the wrong woman, the witnesses would have all made at least one demonstrable mistaken identification. That would weaken the prosecution’s case tremendously.

“If, on the other hand, the charge stood up against the ringer, then Minerva was in the clear.”

“And they got that good a ringer?” Drake asked incredulously.

Mason nodded. “One of those coincidences, Paul. Apparently some detective agency was looking for a girl of just the right size, build and complexion who could wear Minerva’s clothes and could walk back and forth in front of at least one of the witnesses until there was an identification. Then presumably the other witnesses would be called in and they’d all identify the wrong person.”

Drake grinned. “Now, wouldn’t it be poetic justice, Perry, if this babe put an ad in the paper in order to get herself out of a jam and in so doing had to split up an inheritance of fifty-odd million dollars — and where does that leave us?”

“Sitting right out on the end of some kind of a golden limb,” Mason said. “We—”

The telephone rang.

Della Street picked up the instrument, said, “Hello,” cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and said to Perry Mason, “Dorrie Ambler.”

Mason made a motion. “Put her on loudspeaker, Della.”

A moment later Della Street nodded, and Mason said, “Hello, Miss Ambler.”

“Oh, Mr. Mason!” she said, her voice excited. “I know I have no business asking this but could you come to my apartment?”

“Why don’t you come here?” Mason asked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m being watched. I’m being pinned down here.”

“Where’s here?”

“At the Parkhurst Apartments. Apartment 907.”

“What’s pinning you down there?”

“There are men — a man out in the corridor, ducking in and out of the broom closet... From the window of my apartment I can see my car where I parked it, and there’s another man keeping watch on that car.”

“All right,” Mason said, “that means the police have got you located and you’re going to be picked up on a hit-and-run charge.”

“A hit-and-run charge?” she asked.

“That’s right. That’s what happened on the sixth of September.”

“And you mean that was the thing they’ve been getting ready to frame me for?” she asked indignantly. “I’m supposed to be offered as a sacrifice for that terribly rich woman who—”

“Take it easy, take it easy,” Mason said. “This is a telephone and we don’t know who may be listening.

“Now look, Miss Ambler, a matter has come up of very, very great importance. I have to see you and I would like to see you right away.”

“But I can’t leave. I’m not going to. I’m just absolutely frightened to death.”

“Those people are police officers,” Mason said. “They aren’t going to hurt you, but they’re going to stick around until they’re absolutely sure that you’re up and dressed and then they’re going to come barging in to your apartment and ask you questions about the driving of the automobile and the accident on the sixth of September.”

“Well, what do I tell them?”

“Tell them nothing at the moment,” Mason said. “We haven’t got all our proof together but we’re getting it. Tell them you were home on the sixth of September and don’t tell them anything else.

“In the meantime we’ve got to get on the job. Now, where’s your car?”

“Downstairs.”

“You said you could see it?”

“Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“At the curb.”

“Isn’t there a garage connected with that building?”

“Yes, there are private garages but something happened to the lock on my garage door and my key won’t work. However, I don’t use the garage much anyway. It hasn’t been too well ventilated and there’s a mildew smell in there that I don’t want to get in my car. Lots of the tenants leave their cars out.”

“All right,” Mason said. “I have something to discuss with you, Miss Ambler... Tell me something, is your father living?”

“No.”

“Your mother living?”

“No.”

“But you know all about your family?”

“Why are you asking this, Mr. Mason?”

“It’s something that has just come up and it may be important.”

“Actually, Mr. Mason, I don’t know a thing about my family. I was— Well, I was put out for adoption. I think I’m— All right, I may as well tell you, you’re my attorney. I’m an illegitimate child.”

Mason and Paul Drake exchanged glances.

“How do you know you are?” Mason asked.

“Because I was put out for adoption by my mother and— Well, I’ve never looked into it. I guess it was just one of those things. I’ve wondered sometimes who my people really were.”

“You’ve never taken any steps to find out?” Mason asked.

“No. What steps could I take?”

“You stay right where you are,” Mason said. “I’m coming up. I want to talk to you. I’ll have Mr. Drake with me — the detective, you know.”

“Oh... Could you come right away, Mr. Mason?”

“I’m coming right now,” Mason said.

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Wait right there,” Mason said. “No matter what happens, don’t leave.”

Mason nodded to Della Street, who punched the button which shut off the phone.

“Come on, Paul,” Mason said. He turned to Della Street. “Just as soon as Jerry Nelson comes in, tell him to follow us out there. You have the address. I want Jerry to take another look at this girl and compare her with the other one. It may be we’ve stumbled onto a red-hot lead.”

“A red-hot lead in a fifty-million-dollar jackpot,” Drake said. “Boy, wouldn’t that be a juicy jackpot to hit.”