The Case of the Spurious Spinster

Chapter 12

Perry Mason, Della Street, and Paul Drake gathered in the private dining room of the little French restaurant near the Hall of Justice where they so frequently had lunch during Mason’s court cases.

Mason looked around and said, “Well, we’ve had some very great near defeats here, but usually during the lunch hour we’ve managed to get our heads together and squeeze out of the trap some way.”

“This is one you’re not going to squeeze out of,” Drake said lugubriously. “Your client is guilty, Perry, and what’s more, she probably lured Amelia Corning out someplace and disposed of her. I’m betting that within another twenty-four hours Amelia Corning’s body is discovered somewhere, and when that body is discovered you’ll find your client is charged with another murder.”

“She may be charged with a murder,” Mason said, “but that doesn’t mean she’s guilty.”

“Perry, how can you say that? The evidence points so unerringly and so damningly that there isn’t a ghost of a chance she’s innocent.”

Mason said, “That’s because you’re looking at the evidence from the standpoint of the prosecution. Now let’s start doing a little detective work... What have you been able to find about Ken Lowry’s telephone calls?”

“No outgoing calls,” Drake said, “and we haven’t been able to trace any incoming calls.”

“He had an incoming call,” Mason said. “We know that he had one incoming call. That was from Endicott Campbell. Campbell has testified to that. Now then, Campbell either said something which started Lowry rushing to Los Angeles, or else there was another call right after Campbell’s call. When Della Street and I left him, he had no intention of corning to Los Angeles. He must have received another call immediately after we were there and that call started him for Los Angeles. Now, we stopped to telephone you and to have a cup of coffee. We just made it to the Arthenium Hotel by seven twenty-five. Lowry simply couldn’t have reached the city much before that time. Even if he’d received an immediate telephone summons, he couldn’t have got here much before seven forty-five.”

“All right,” Drake said. “Your client met him as soon as he arrived, took him out and murdered him and was back with the car by eight fifteen.”

“It doesn’t leave her enough time,” Mason said. “She would have had to have Lowry meet her at the scene of the murder.”

“Well, is anything wrong with that?” Drake asked. “Lowry returned to his cabin at the mine. There was a call waiting for him. The voice of Susan Fisher, a voice he had come to know, instructed him that he’d pulled a boner talking with you and told him to drive to Hollywood at once, then go to this designated spot. Your client had written out the directions in shorthand.

“You and Della went to Los Angeles, to the hotel, then out to Hollywood. Lowry could have taken a short cut through Burbank and saved at least half an hour.”

Mason said, “We’re going to have to find out about that call. Let’s see if we can trace it down.”

“If we do,” Drake said, “we’ll find it was a call from your client and... well, then what are you going to do, Perry? Are you going to try to suppress the evidence or are you going to put it in the hands of the officers?”

“That,” Mason told him, “brings up a difficult question of ethics. An attorney shouldn’t suppress evidence. On the other hand he shouldn’t go around digging up evidence against his client. However, the evidence may not be against my client. How about giving your office a ring and see if they’ve uncovered something?”

Drake called for a telephone which was plugged in, gave the number of his office to the operator, said, “Hello. Paul Drake talking. What have you found out?... Okay, let me have it.”

Drake’s eyes narrowed. He made notes, said, “Okay. I’m here at the usual restaurant, in the private dining room. Call me if anything turns up.”

Drake hung up the telephone, said to Mason, “Well, we’ve got it but it’s a peculiar lead.”

“What is it?” Mason asked.

“Long-distance from Los Angeles was calling Kenneth Lowry on Sunday afternoon, probably at about the time you were talking with him at Mojave. Lowry didn’t answer his telephone so word was left for him to call Operator 67, Los Angeles. A Mexican woman who cleans up the house remembered marking down 67 on the pad by the telephone.

“Well, we got in touch with Operator 67 and managed to trace the call. It was a call that was placed from a telephone booth. It was a woman’s voice and the woman said she would wait until he answered. Evidently this woman sat there by the phone booth for some twenty minutes before the call was completed. It was a pay-station call, and the woman deposited toll charges. Now then, Perry, the location of that telephone booth is within two blocks of your client’s apartment. She evidently didn’t want to put the call through from her apartment so she walked two blocks and put it through from a telephone booth.”

“What name was given?” Mason asked.

“She told the operator it was a Miss Smith calling.”

“I wonder if the police have that,” Mason said.

“No, I don’t think so, Perry.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “Now we know why Lowry drove into town. He drove in to meet somebody. It was a matter of major importance because he must have left the minute he got that telephone call. He must have been right behind us on the road.”

“And Susan Fisher picked up Amelia Corning there in the alley,” Drake said, “and went off with her, then picked up Ken Lowry. We know what happened to Lowry... Good heavens, Perry, this woman must be a fiend. In order to cover a defalcation of a large sum of money she’s committed two murders and—”

“Now, wait a minute,” Mason interrupted. “Let’s not condemn her of two murders before we know what the evidence is. She tells me that she absolutely did not have Ken Lowry in the car with her that night; that she had never met Ken Lowry; that she doesn’t know what he looks like; and she tells me that she didn’t pick up Amelia Corning there in the alley.”

“Phooey!” Drake said. “There’s too much evidence against her. My gosh, Perry, but you’re an optimistic fighter. Almost anyone else I know of would have folded right there in court this morning with all this irrefutable evidence corning in... Gosh, you could see Hamilton Burger just sitting there and beaming. This is one case that he has dead open-and-shut and he had to come to court personally so that he could have his picture in the papers when Mason loses a case.”

“We won’t be losing a case,” Mason said. “This is just a preliminary hearing. The only purpose is to determine whether there is sufficient evidence that a crime has been committed and evidence that tends to connect the defendant with the commission of the crime.”

“I know,” Drake said, “you can explain it with all the legal technicalities you want, but remember in the popular mind it’s a case, and one that you’ve lost.”

“He hasn’t lost it yet, Paul,” Della Street said sharply, looking at her watch. “He’s got an hour and thirty minutes before he’s lost anything.”

Mason said, “There are certain things about this case that puzzle me.”

“Such as what?” Drake asked.

“Oh, the way this woman acted who showed up at the airport Saturday morning... Of course, that was an unusual procedure, sitting there in a wheelchair with her baggage all around her... I wish we could find out more about that woman.”

“She was a ringer,” Paul Drake said.

“But a clever ringer,” Mason pointed out, “and she was very adept at the use of a wheelchair. She could send it whizzing around...”

“How do you know?” Drake asked.

“Susan Fisher described it to me in detail,” Mason said.

Drake’s smile was skeptical. “I wouldn’t build any hopes or any case on anything that was said by Sue Fisher,” he said. “Personally, I think the girl is deranged somewhere. She’s probably some kind of congenital psychopath.”

“What additional evidence does the prosecution have?” Della Street asked.

“Only the murder weapon,” Mason said. “They’ll put that in, they’ll tie that up with Susan Fisher, and then they’ll rest.”

“Are you going to put on any evidence?”

“I don’t think so,” Mason said. “There’s no use putting on Susan Fisher and letting her deny all this stuff.”

“You try to put her on the stand and Hamilton Burger will rip her to pieces on cross-examination,” Drake warned. “That’s why Burger is sitting so smugly in court. If you don’t put your client on he’s going to have the credit of winning a case in which you’ve fallen flat on your face. If you do put her on he’s going to be the one who rips her to shreds.”

“Ordinarily,” Mason said, “there’s nothing to be gained by putting a defendant on the stand in a preliminary hearing but... Hang it, I wish I knew something more about that ringer who took the part of Amelia Corning.”

“She went to the Union Station,” Drake said, “and simply disappeared. She didn’t go out in any taxicab. Therefore she must have gone out in a private car. Someone was there waiting for her, and she probably simply took off her dark blue glasses, got up out of the wheelchair, folded the wheelchair, and walked around just like any other normal human being.”

Abruptly Mason snapped his fingers.

“What?” Drake asked.

“There’s one thing you didn’t try,” Mason said.

“What?”

“Chartered limousines.”

“What do you mean?”

“For a short trip you take a taxicab,” Mason said. “For a long trip you charter a limousine with a driver. Ring up your office, Paul. Get them to cover the different limousine services. See if they received a call on Saturday afternoon after five o’clock to make a trip to Mojave.”

“To Mojave?”

Mason nodded.

“Why Mojave?” Drake asked.

Mason, suddenly excited, got up from his chair and began pacing the floor. “I’ve got an idea, Paul,” he said. “It’s a terrific idea.”

“You mean that there never was any other woman? That your client, Sue Fisher, was the one who was masquerading as Amelia Corning and she removed the make-up and—”

“Get your office on the phone,” Mason interrupted him impatiently. “Have them cover the limousine services.”

Drake put through the telephone call, instructed his office to cover the situation, then hung up the telephone.

“Well,” Della Street said, “I don’t know about you folks but I’m going to eat.”

Drake sighed. “I think I better take aboard some groceries while the moment is opportune. Sad experience teaches me that when these cases take unexpected twists, subsequent developments always result in greasy, soggy hamburger sandwiches in place of well-cooked meals. This time I’m going to fool everyone.”

They gave their orders to the waiter, settled down around the table and after the food was served ate in moody silence.

At twenty minutes past one the telephone rang for Paul Drake.

Drake listened, made notes, said, “Okay, I guess that’s it.”

He hung up the telephone, turned to Mason and said, “Okay, Perry, you’re clairvoyant.”

“Go on,” Mason said, his manner showing suppressed excitement. “Let’s have it.”

“Saturday afternoon, five fifteen, the A to Z Limousine Service received a call to have a limousine at the garage entrance at the Union Depot. They were instructed to have the limousine full of gasoline and be ready to make a trip. The driver went there as per instructions and picked up a woman in a wheelchair — a woman who had dark blue glasses. She gave him keys to some lockers at the depot. He went there and picked up her bags and suitcases, put them in the car, and then drove her to Mojave.”

Mason looked at his watch, his eyes narrowed. “All right,” he said, “let’s get back to the courtroom. I’m going to have to do a little cross-examination and then we may know more than we do now.”

“Oh, for the love of Mike,” Drake said wearily, “quit butting your head against a brick wall, Perry. This is a case where there’s only one thing for you to do. Get up the minute court opens and suggest to the judge that while you think your client has a good defense, in view of the evidence that has been received there certainly is enough evidence to warrant binding the defendant over, and ask the court to make the order. In that way you’ll steal some of Hamilton Burger’s thunder and keep him from standing up and making an argument that will be directed primarily to the newspapers.

“That’s all Burger wants. Just an opportunity to stand up and speak his piece. He’ll argue about this young woman with her mask of innocence. He’ll talk about the satanic character that lurks underneath. He’ll thunder denunciations. He’ll intimate that there is still another body waiting to be discovered, and he’ll have his picture in the paper.

“After all, Perry, this thing... this limousine business doesn’t really mean anything. We all know that there was a ringer brought in to take the part of Amelia Corning on Saturday and what more natural than that she should have been brought in from Mojave. I will admit my face is a little red because I didn’t think of that limousine business but the police didn’t think of it either. This driver of the limousine had never been interrogated before.”

Mason didn’t waste time answering Drake. He called the waiter, signed the check, and said, “Come on, let’s get up to the courthouse. We’ve got work to do.”