The Case of the Spurious Spinster

Chapter 9

The taxi meter had nine dollars and eighty cents on it when Tragg somewhat reluctantly gave Perry Mason permission to go on about his business.

“I’m not very happy about this thing, Mason,” Tragg said.

“One shouldn’t ever be happy about a murder,” Mason said.

“That isn’t what I meant,” Tragg said. “I’m not happy about any of them.”

“All right, that’s fine,” Mason said. “You’re not happy about any of them and you’re not happy about this. That figures.”

“Let’s say I’m not happy about your part in this one.”

“I have no part in the murder,” Mason said.

Tragg jerked his thumb. “On your way,” he said. “Personally, I think you’ve worked this professional privilege to death. I’m going to tell you something, Perry Mason. Sooner or later the facts in this case are going to come out. We’re going to know how it happened that you went up there looking around for a body.”

“I tell you, I wasn’t looking around for a body,” Mason said.

“All right, we don’t need to go over it again. On your way.”

Mason climbed in the cab, nodded to the driver. “Back down to Hollywood,” he said.

After they reached Hollywood, Mason gave the driver the address of Susan Fisher’s apartment and said, “There’s a car-rental agency within three or four blocks of that apartment. Do you know where it is?”

The cab driver thought for a minute, then nodded. “There’s a branch of the “We Rent M Car Company” over on the boulevard that’s only about three and a half blocks from there.”

“Let’s try that place,” Mason said.

The driver drew up in front of the place. Mason went in and said, “How about renting a car?”

“It depends on how long you want it,” the man said. “We’re just closing up and business has been rushing today. This is a branch of the main office and we’ve been floored. I have one car which has just come in. It hasn’t been serviced. I’ll have time to fill the tank and that’s all. If you want to turn it in before nine o’clock tomorrow morning, you’ll have to turn it in at one of the other offices. I’ll give you their address on a card.”

“Okay by me,” Mason said. “I need a car.”

“You got your driver’s license?”

Mason brought it out and exhibited it, used an air travel card to establish credit, and went out to pay off the cab.

“I was just closing up,” the man explained. “We’ve had quite a day and I was fifteen or twenty minutes overtime getting books posted.”

“Did a lot of rental business?”

“Quite a lot.”

“You don’t have too many cars?”

“Not here, this is a branch. Actually, we try to keep one here all the time and then we telephone to one of the other offices to send out replacements. They can have a car here within ten minutes any time I phone, sometimes sooner.”

“Just keep the one car here in the place?”

“That’s right. Of course, it isn’t always the same car.”

“I see,” Mason said. “I was just wondering how you ran the business.”

“Actually,” the man told him, “this is kind of a business-getting gadget that the company is using. Some of our competitors are located at a garage somewhere in the city and then have a place at the airport. If you want to get a car, you have to go one place or the other, or arrange to have it delivered. And that makes it a little difficult when you want to return the car. We’re trying out something new. We have places spotted all over town. You can either pick up a car here or I can have one for you within ten minutes and then I give you a list of places where you can leave it. You can turn it in at any one of these places; they’re scattered all over town.”

“Good idea,” Mason said.

“It’s working out all right for me,” the man told him. “Of course, I have a service station here. Let me fill up that gas tank and you’ll be ready to roll.”

While the gas tank was being filled, Mason crossed over to the telephone booth and called Paul Drake.

“Paul,” he said, “I’ve got a car I want examined very, very carefully by an expert. I want someone who knows his way around to look it over with a magnifying glass.”

“For what?”

“Bloodstains, fingerprints, everything.”

“Well,” Drake said somewhat wearily, “there’s a technician who works in the police laboratory who occasionally does some work for me. He’ll probably be in bed at this time of the night. I’ll have to get him up if you want him.”

“He’ll keep his mouth shut?”

“He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

“He’ll get up for you?”

“Not for me — for about fifty bucks.”

“And work a large part of the night?”

“And work a large part of the night.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Call him and then be waiting down on the sidewalk for me. I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive out there.”

“How soon?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll try and get things lined up,” Drake said. “I’ll be on the sidewalk. Anybody going to get any sleep tonight?”

“Not that I know of,” Mason said. “Found anything on Amelia Corning yet?”

“Yes, we’ve got a lead. A fellow from the porter’s office was paid twenty-five dollars to take Miss Corning down in the freight elevator in her wheelchair. She said she wanted to get out without anyone knowing it, said she had a little checking up to do.”

“What time, Paul?”

“Six-thirty.”

“That figures,” Mason said.

“What does?”

“She had an appointment with me at seven-thirty and she’s very punctual. She could have figured on getting back by seven-thirty.”

“That’s right. She did. She made arrangements with this chap who operates the freight elevator so that he would be standing by in the alley, near the freight entrance, at exactly seven-twenty so he could pick her up and take her back up to her floor and she could get into her room.”

“That’s right. The fellow was there for all of ten minutes. She didn’t show up.”

“And she left at six-thirty?”

“Right about that time. It could have been a few minutes earlier. The man says it could have been six twenty-five.”

“Has he told his story to the police?”

“The police haven’t asked him yet. They don’t seem at all concerned — as yet. Our men saw no sign of police interest. Miss Corning’s sister seems to be holding down the fort and clamping a lid on any undue interest in Amelia’s comings and goings.”

“That’s good,” Mason said. “We’re evidently one jump ahead of the police. See what you can do about checking with taxicabs who usually stand there at the Arthenium Hotel and—”

“That’s already been done,” Drake said. “All of the taxicabs that stand there come in and take their position in line. They pull in to the rear of the line and then the fellow in front answers the doorman’s signal. If the doorman isn’t there, they’ll pick up a passenger at the hotel and of course if the passenger walks up to the head of the line and gets in a cab, the cabby has no alternative but to take him. Ordinarily, however, they work with the doorman. In that way the doorman gets a tip for calling the cab and he’s nice to the cab drivers and everything works out okay.”

“And how about a cab being called around to the alleyway?”

“It would have had to have been on a telephone call,” Drake said. “I’ve checked all the cab companies and there wasn’t any call to have a cab there at that time. Therefore, it must have been a private car.”

“It could hardly have been a private car,” Mason said.

“It must have been.”

“All right,” the lawyer told him. “I’ll come down there. I want this car checked for fingerprints and I want it checked for any and all kinds of evidence: a regular police check.”

“That’s going to take time.”

“We’ve got time.”

“I was afraid of that,” Drake said, and yawned into the telephone.

“Get your man up out of bed,” Mason said. “I’ll be there, and be sure you’re wearing gloves when I pick you up.”

The lawyer drove the rented car around to his office building, picked up Paul Drake, who was standing on the curb. Drake gave directions and they drove out to the residential section, turned into a driveway and into an open garage.

“Meet Myrton Abert,” Drake said. “He’s an expert connected with the police laboratory.”

“I want a check on this car,” Mason said, “and I don’t want anybody to know about it.”

“You don’t want anybody not to know about it any more than I do,” Abert said. “It isn’t hot, is it?”

“Not in the sense you mean. It’s a rented car. I just want to know who’s been driving it before all of the fingerprints are erased.”

“Now suppose the police want the same thing?” Abert asked.

“Then you give them the information,” Mason said.

“If I do that, I’ll have to use Scotch tape and lift the fingerprints.”

“Go ahead and lift them, but be sure you don’t leave any indication prints have been lifted from the car.”

“I don’t see what you’re gaining by this,” Abert said.

Mason said, “Sometimes the police don’t share information with me. If I share information with them, I’ll at least be abreast of the police.”

Abert thought it over, grinned, said, “Okay, I’ve got a fellow corning to assist me. He ought to be here any minute now. I had to get him up out of bed.”

Abert closed the garage door, turned on bright lights, and went to work.

It was breaking daylight when Abert said, “All right, Mr. Mason, there aren’t any bloodstains in the car. There are quite a few smudged fingerprints. There are twenty-three legible fingerprints on the doors, the back of the rearview mirror and the side mirror. I’ve lifted those with Scotch tape. Now what do we do?”

“How are you on comparing fingerprints?” Mason asked.

“Pretty good.”

Mason said, “I want duplicates of those prints.”

“Then I’ll have to photograph the lifted prints.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not too long to make the photographs, but to get them developed and printed is going to be something else.”

“All right,” Mason said. “You want to protect yourself. You take the photographs and give me the original lifts. You can develop the photographs at your leisure. They’ll give you protection.”

Abert thought it over for a while, then said, “That would be worth a little more money, Mr. Mason. It’s a little more work than I’d figured on.”

Mason handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

“Will that cover the added costs?”

“That will cover it.”

“Let’s go,” Mason said.

Abert walked over to a locker, took out a fingerprint camera, put the lifts on a dark surface, fitted the fingerprint camera over the lifts and within a few minutes had all of the prints photographed.

“That’s all there is to it?” Mason asked.

“That’s all.”

“Okay,” the lawyer told him. “I’m on my way.”

“Say, this is a rental car, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“You understand I’ve got to protect myself in this thing,” Abert said. “So far, this is only a private deal. But I’ve got the license of the car and all that and—”

“Sure,” Mason said. “I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to get you in bad. You have a right to do outside work on your own time.”

“Thanks. I just wanted to be sure we had it straight,” Abert said.

“We’ve got it straight,” Mason told him.

Abert looked at his watch and yawned. “Just about two hours’ shut-eye before I have to go to work,” he said.

“You’re fortunate,” Drake told him.

“In what?”

“In getting two hours’ shut-eye,” Drake said.

Mason grinned, opened the door of the car, slid in behind the steering wheel. “Come on, Paul,” he said, “we’re going places.”

“Where?” Drake asked, as they backed out of the garage.

“Bed,” Mason told him.

“Those,” Drake said, “are welcome words.”

“We stop by your office,” Mason told him, “and see if they have anything more on any of the characters involved.”

“Why not phone?”

“All right,” Mason told him, “we’ll phone.”

They stopped at a telephone booth, Drake put through a call, came back and shook his head. “Nothing doing,” he said, “they haven’t found Endicott Campbell yet, there’s no trace of the seven-year-old son or the governess, the police are turning Mojave upside down trying to get some dope on Ken Lowry, and, so far, the police haven’t taken any interest in Amelia Corning. We’re ahead of them on that information.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “It gives us about two hours and a half. We don’t have to get up quite as early as your expert.”