The Case of the Negligent Nymph

Chapter 3

AT NINE-FIVE MONDAT MORNING WHEN MASON ENTERED his office, Della Street, her finger on her lips, looked up from the phone in Mason’s private office, said into the mouthpiece, “Yes, Mrs. Brawley, yes, indeed. Could you hold the phone just a momentP Someone is calling on the other plume.”

Della Street cupped hex hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone, said rapidly to Ferry Mason, “Mrs. Brawley, the matron at the jail in Las Alisas, has a prisoner there, a Dorothy Fenner, held on suspicion of a jewel robbery, who wants to consult an attorney, and wants you.”

“Oh, oh,” Mason said. “It’s a trap then. She knew who I was all along.”

“Perhaps she didn’t,” Della Street said, her hand still over the mouthpiece. “Do you want me to send Jackson down there and let him talk with her? That way you can find out whether it’s just a coincidence or … “

Mason grinned. “Thanks for die lifesaver, Della. That’s what we’ll do.”

Della Street took her hand from the mouthpiece, said, “Well, I’m not in a position to speak for Mr. Mason, Mrs. Brawley, but I'll tell you what well do. Well have Mr. Jackson, Mr. Mason’s clerk, come down and interview Miss Fenner. You say she’s in for a jewel robbery … Yes … Oh, within half an hour or so. He should be on his way within thirty minutes … Yes … All right, thank you. Good-by.”

Della Street hung up and cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her employer.

Mason said glumly, “George S. Alder is now beginning to turn the screw in the vise. So this girl was really bait for a trap after all”

“Is she really beautiful, Chief?”

Mason nodded.

“Well,” Della Street said, “that’s one consolation. Her beauty will be utterly wasted on Carl Jackson. Jackson will see only the legal principles involved, and for the rest of it will regard her owlishly through those thick-lensed spectacles of his, blinking his eyes as though trying to chop the situation up into small pieces so he can more readily feed them into his mental digestive apparatus.”

Mason laughed. “Good description, Della. I’ve never noticed it before but he does seem to be afraid to trust himself to look at a girl all at once.”

“A great believer in precedent,” Della Street said. “I think if he were ever confronted with a really novel situation he’d faint. He runs to his law books, digs around like a mole and finally comes up with some case that’s what he calls ‘on all fours’ and was decided seventy-five or a hundred years ago.”

“At that you have to hand it to him,” Mason said. “He always finds the case. He’s an absolute terror to all of these young lawyers who take such things seriously. Turn Jackson loose in a law library and he’ll come up with a whole handful of precedents. And the nice part of it is he finds the precedents that are in your favor. So many briefing clerks seem to have a knack of finding precedents that are dead against what your client wants to do.”

Della said mischievously, “I always remember what you said about him when he got married.”

“What was that?” Mason asked, looking slightly alarmed.

“A conversation that I overheard you and Paul Drake having.”

“Tut, tut, you shouldn’t listen in on such conversations, particularly at-a time like that”

“I know,” she admitted. “That’s why I was particularly careful to listen. I remember you told Paul Drake that he was marrying a widow because he was afraid of any situation for which he couldn’t find a precedent.”

Mason laughed. “I shouldn’t have said it, but it’s probably true. Get him in here, Della, and we’ll start him working on Dorothy Fenner.”

“Will you tell him to use his judgment about . .

Mason shook his head and said, “I’ll tell him that we’re going to represent her. I just want him to find out how she happened to get in touch with us. That’s all.”

“But suppose it wasn’t a trap? Suppose she doesn’t know, and…”

“And would get some other attorney,” Perry Mason said. “And then, midway through the trial, she’d happen to see my picture or catch a glimpse of me in court and blab out to this lawyer that I was the one they’d been referring to as the male accomplice. The lawyer would rush to the newspapers… You can imagine what a situation that would makel No, Della, we’re in this and we’re going all the way. If it’s not a trap we’ll give Alder a going over, and if it is a trap, we’ll smash our way out Get Jackson in here.”

Della Street arose from her desk, walked rapidly through, the door to the law library and on to Jackson’s office beyond. A few moments later she came back with the blinking, beetle-browed Jackson a few steps behind her, peering owlishly through his thick-lensed glasses.

Mason said, “Sit down, Jackson. There’s a very interesting case down at the Las Alisas jail, a young woman whom we’re going to represent. Her name’s Dorothy Fenner. She’s accused of having broken into the house of George S. Alder and stolen some fifty thousand dollars’ worth of jewels.

“Now, we’re going to represent her. I want that definitely understood. The question of a fee won’t be particularly important, but I do want to find out just how it happened that she asked me to represent her.”

Jackson blinked.

“Then,” Mason said, “I want bail fixed for her, and when you get a judge to fix bail, I want you to make the claim that the fifty thousand dollars’ worth of jewels is merely so much newspaper talk that it’s easy to say fifty thousand dollars in round figures, but that for the purposes of fixing bail we want to know exactly what jewelry was taken otherwise well consider that the jewelry had only a nominal value and that bail should be fixed at a very nominal amount.”

Jackson nodded.

“Think you can do that?” Mason asked. “I—I mean, get a judge to inquire somewhat into the nature and extent of the property that was taken before fixing the amount of bail?”

“Well, of course I can try,” Jackson said, “but as I remember the doctrine which was held in a case in the eighty-second California Reports .,. Now, wait a minute, and I'll have it … Don’t prompt me, please.”

Jackson held up his right hand, started snapping the fingers. At the third snap, he said, “Oh, yes, I have it. In re Williams, in the eighty-second California Reports, I think it’s page one eighty-three, it was stated that the amount of bail should not depend upon the amount of money which may have been lost to one party or secured by another party by reason of the offense charged. But it was held that bail should depend rather upon the moral turpitude of the crime and the danger resulting to the public from the commission of the offense.”

Mason grinned. “Just after I’d finished telling Della Street what a whiz you were at digging up precedents that were in favor of our clients rather than against them.”

“Well, of course,” Jackson went on judiciously, “a great deal, a very great deal, would depend upon the character of the young woman and, of course, the circumstances under which the property was alleged to have been taken. For the purpose of setting bail, it will be necessary to assume that the charge is well-founded.”

Mason said, “Just walk in there with your fighting clothes on and get in touch with whatever deputy district attorney is handling the thing and demand that he get hold of the complaining witness. Insist that we want to get a specific allegation as to what was taken and exactly when it was taken and the value of it. And, above all, find out whether this young woman got in touch with me because of my reputation, because someone told her to give me a ring, or because she thinks she knows me.”

“Do you know her?” Jackson asked, blinking inquiringly at Mason.

“How the hell do I know? Jackson, in my position would you know everyone who had served on a jury, everyone who had been a witness in a case?”

“No, sir, I don’t think I would.”

“I don’t think you would either,” Mason said, picking up some papers. “Skip down to the Las Alisas jail and get hold of this Dorothy Fenner. Tell her not to worry. Get started as fast as you can. We want some action. File a habeas corpus if you have to.”

When Jackson had gone, Mason turned to Della Street “He does ask the damnedest questions.”

“Doesn’t he? And at the most unexpected times. Then you look at that impassive countenance of his and those eyes blinking away at you as though you were some sort of bug he was looking at through a microscope and you’re darned if you know whether the guy is really smart, or just intelligent.”

Mason threw back his head and laughed.

“Get hold of Paul Drake for me, Della. Let’s start some detectives working.”

Della Street dialed Paul Drake’s unlisted number on the confidential line which Mason kept in his private office, detouring the outside switchboard, and in a moment said, “Hello, Paul? This is Della … How busy are you? … Do you suppose you could run down to the office? … That’s fine. Right away, eh?”

She raised inquiring eyebrows at Mason, caught his nod, said, “That’ll be fine, Paul. The Chief will be expecting you. I'll be waiting at the door.”

She hung up the telephone and moved over to the exit door to the corridor from Mason’s private office.

“He’s coming right down,” she said.

Paul Drake, head of the Drake Detective Agency, had offices down the corridor near the elevator, and it was only a matter of seconds until Della Street heard his steps in the corridor. As soon as a dark shadow formed on the ground glass of the exit door, Della Street jerked back the latch and opened the door.

“Service,” Drake said, grinning amiably at them as he shuffled over to the big overstuffed client’s chair and draped himself in his favorite position with his knees propped over one rounded arm of the chair, the other rounded arm furnishing support for his back.

“What’s the pitch?” he drawled, elevating one knee and clasping his fingers around the shinbone as he glanced from Mason to Della Street.

“You’re a hell of a detective,” Mason told him. “You always look as though you were about ready to fall apart.”

“I know,” Drake said. “It’s my disguise. Underneath this thin head of hair, back of these glassy eyes, is a ballbearing brain racing away like mad.”

“Perhaps that’s why it’s so darned hard to get you started in a new direction,” Mason said. “Your brain is just a huge gyroscope.”

“It makes for stability,” Drake told him, “and enables me to hold great quantities of liquor.”

“Liquor doesn’t affect it?” Della Street asked.

“Just makes it go around faster,” Drake assured her. “I’m charging somebody for this time. Did you bring me down here to ask questions about my brains?”

“Heaven forbid,” Mason said. “We want you to find out something about a nice murder case.”

“Murder cases are never nice,” Drake told him, “particularly your murder cases.”

“This is a swell minder case,” Mason said. “It involves a Miss Minerva Danby, evidently a curvaceous exponent of feminine pulchritude, who is supposed to have been drowned by slipping overboard from a yacht…”

“You mean the Alder case?” Drake interrupted.

“You know about it?”

“I remember about it,” Drake said. “I remember because of the large amounts of whitewash that were spilled over everything in sight. The officials all seemed to vie with each other in grabbing Alder, shaking his hand and pouring white paint all over the boy.”

“Remember any of the facts?” Mason asked innocently, glancing surreptitiously at Della Street.

“Well,” Drake said, “this George Alder is quite some pumpkins. He has a big yacht that’s a miniature ocean liner, all fitted out with teakwood, mahogany, brass and polish, telephones all over the boat, a private bar, stewards and all that stuff. He owns a big place down on an island … Hey, wait a minute, that must have been the Alder whose house was burglarized last night”

“What about it?” Mason asked.

“Oh, just a piece in the paper. Some woman put on a dinner gown, mingled with guests, copped fifty thousand bucks in jewelry and made her escape by water. A male accomplice was sitting out there playing it safe, sending the girl in to do the dirty work. When she ran out, he slipped in with the canoe and picked her up, then whisked her out of harm’s way. At that, -they almost caught them by breaking out some motorboats and getting an early start. Eventually, they traced her through a bath towel.”

Mason said, Well, I want to find out all about Alder I want to find out about Minerva Danby’s death, and if you want to let various and sundry people know that that death is being investigated, it’s all right by me.”

“Newspapers?” Drake asked.

“Not too obvious,” Mason said. “Perhaps a veiled reference to the fact that your agency is asking questions around Catalina Island, trying to determine additional facts about the mysterious death of a young woman who was reported to have been swept away by rough seas from the yacht of a multimillionaire … You know, that vague sort of stuff.”

“Papers don’t go so much for that stuff,” Drake said, “but I know a couple of columnists who would like to get a lead. That is, if it’s on the up-and-up.”

“It’s on the up-and-up. Go ahead and start your investigation. Find out anything you can.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Keep an ear to the ground on that jewel burglary. Try and find out if that’s what it really was.”

“Gosh, Perry, you think there’s any chance it could have been…”

“I don’t know,” Mason told him. “Get busy and find out Ask questions put men to work find out everything you can about Alder. I want a complete picture.”

“How many men do I put to work on it?” Drake asked.

“As many as you have to.”

“To get information by what time?”

As soon as you can.”

Drake said, “You’re leaving yourself wide open, Perry.

I have a lot of men I can draw on now. Business isn’t any too good, and…”

“Start ‘em working,” Mason told him. “Just don’t have them falling all over each other, or getting in each other’s way, but have them make inquiries, and really go to town.”

“And we don’t have to make it hush-hush?”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Mason told him, “you can hire a brass band.”

“Okay,” Drake said, “that saves a lot of trouble. It means we won’t have to waste time beating around the bush.”

“Another thing,” Mason said. “I want you to look up the date Minerva Danby died. Then check back on the records at Los Merritos. You’ll find that at that time there was a woman undergoing treatment at that institution. This woman couldn’t give any definite account of herself. She was suffering from some sort of amnesia, and apparently had no relatives.

“Look up Conine Lansing. Get her age, build, color of eyes, and all that. Find out what you can about her disappearance. She’s a half sister of George Alder. Anyway, get all the dope and get it fast.”

“Okay. Anything else, PerryV

“I want a complete job on Alder. I want to know everything I can about him. If he has any weak points I want to find out about them. That is, any weak chinks in his armor.”

Drake slid down out of the chair. “Okay, Perry. I’ll get to work.”

Mason waited until he had gone, then turned to Della Street. “Get hold of the surety company tell them I’ll want them to put up bail within a short time in that Dorothy Fenner case tell them to make any inquiries they want about Dorothy Fenner, but that I’ll stand back of any bail bond that’s issued, and that I want them in a position to issue one fast when the time comes.”

Della Street turned to the telephone.

“You’d better talk with the manager personally,” Mason said. “Tell him that I'll appreciate some prompt action on this.”

“I’ll tell him it’s a personal favor,” she said.

“No cracks,” Mason warned.

“That wasn’t a crack, it was a break.” Della Street started dialing the number.