The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

Chapter 3

perry mason was talking with Dr. Kelton on the telephone when Paul Drake opened the door of his office and said, “Della told me to come on in, you were waiting for me.”

Mason nodded, motioned him to a chair and said into the telephone, “What do you know about sleepwalking, Jim?… Well, I’ve got a case for you. The man doesn’t know he’s sleepwalking. He’s very nervous. Carries a knife and padpads around the house in his bare feet… You’re going out with me tonight and investigate. We don’t have to eat there, which is a blessing. How the hell do I know if he’s going to stick a knife into us? Wear a chainmail nightgown if you want to. I’ll call for you at seventhirty… You’re supposed to be checking up on him because his wife is going to claim he’s crazy… Well, wives do get that way once in a while… Sure there’s a fee in it, but don’t get mercenary until after you’ve seen the niece… I’ll say!.. Okay, I’ll pick you up at the club…” Mason dropped the receiver back on the hook and grinned across at Paul Drake.

The lanky detective slid into the overstuffed black leather chair and sat crosswise, knees elevated over one arm, the other arm supporting the small of his back. “Sleepwalking, eh?” he asked, in a slow drawl.

Mason nodded and said, “Do you walk in your sleep, Paul?”

“Hell, no! You keep me so busy I don’t get any sleep. What do you want this time?”

“I want some good men to look up a Mrs. Doris Sully Kent, living somewhere in Santa Barbara. Don’t shadow her just yet, because she’s smart and I don’t want to tip my hand, but find out all about her past, her friends, finances, morals, dissipations, residence and future plans. Also get the dope on a Frank B. Maddox, of Chicago, inventor and manufacturer. He’s here in the city at present, so don’t bother about anything except the Chicago angle. Find out who owns a green Packard roadster, license number 9R8397.”

“When do you want all this?”

“As soon as I can get it.”

Drake consulted his watch, said, “Okay. Do I keep the Santa Barbara investigation under cover?”

“Yes. Don’t let her or her friends know she’s being investigated.”

Drake yawned, pulled his tall figure from the chair. “On my way,” he said as he started for the door.

Della Street, hearing the door slam, entered the office.

“Where’s Jackson?” Mason asked.

She smiled and said, “Packing his bag, getting ready to go to Santa Barbara and find out the exact status of the case of Doris Kent versus Peter Kent. I took the liberty of reading your mind, and giving him the order. I’ve telephoned the garage to fill his car with gas, oil and water and deliver it here.”

Mason grinned and said, “Good girl. Some day I’ll decide to raise your salary and find you’ve read my mind and already done it. Telephone the county clerk at Santa Barbara. Arrange with some deputy to stay after hours. Tell Jackson to telephone me and let me know what he finds out.” Mason consulted his wristwatch, said meditatively, “It’s about one hundred miles. Jackson should be there in something less than three hours. Tell him to step on it.”