Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

“A Packard sedan and a Ford cabriolet. I’m getting out the sedan this morning. I believe he said you were to drive it.”

“That’s right. You’d better get started, Arthur.”

The butler vanished with the smooth, noiseless efficiency of a welltrained domestic. A moment later, Kent, carrying a suitcase and an overcoat, stood in the doorway, said, You’d better get your coat, Mr. Mason.”

“It’s in the hall,” Mason answered.

He went to the reception hall, found his coat and hat. Almost at once they were joined by Lucille Mays. Kent opened the door. There was the sound of a purring automobile motor. The beams of headlights crept around the curve in the driveway. A shiny Packard sedan slid smoothly to a stop. Coulter climbed from the driver’s seat, opened the car doors, handed in the two light bags. Mason slid in behind the wheel, laughed and said, “There should be one or two more. I feel as if I were chaperoning a honeymoon.”

“You,” Kent told him, “are Cupid.”

“It’s a new role,” Mason said, “but I’ll try to live up to it.” He slid back the shifting lever, eased in the clutch and as the car purred into smooth motion, said, “Let’s go over things now to be sure we have everything straight.”

Kent pulled up one of the folding seats, sat in it and leaned forward so that his head was within a few inches of Mason’s shoulder. “I’m to go directly to the courthouse in Yuma,” he said. “Is that right?”

Mason nodded and for a few moments gave his attention to shifting gears. Then he said, without taking his eyes from the road, “Yes. Hunt up the telephone operator if they have a private switchboard, and, if they don’t, find out who answers the telephone in the clerk’s office. Tell them you’re expecting an important call and make arrangements so it’ll come through without delay. I’ll telephone you as soon as the final decree has been granted.

“After that, you can make headquarters at the Winslow Hotel at Yuma. Wait there. If you don’t hear from me again by six o’clock in the afternoon you can start on a honeymoon, but let me know where I can locate you.”

“You’re going to file action against Maddox?” Kent asked.

Mason’s jaw squared. “I’m going to take that boy down the line,” he promised, “but I think we’ll file the action in Chicago. There’s a matter of venue I want to look up.”

“You’ll let him know that there’ll be no compromise?”

“You can leave Maddox to me,” Mason said grimly, pushing the accelerator down almost to the floorboards.

Perry Mason tapped gently on the door of Edna Hammer’s bedroom. She opened it and said, “How did you leave the honeymooners?”

“Very much up in the air,” he answered, grinning, “and I hope you don’t throw me out for that one.”

“Come in and tell me about it. Remember, I’m a woman, and marriage means a lot to us, so don’t you omit one single detail.”

Mason seated himself, grinned and said, “We went to the airport. A pilot with a helmet dangling in one hand came forward and introduced himself. There was a cabin plane drawn up. The motors were running. Your uncle and Miss Mays entered the plane. We did a little wisecracking back and forth. Miss Mays blew me a kiss. The pilot got in, taxied the ship down the field, turned around, tested first one motor, then the other, came back into the wind and took off. The sun was just rising. The hills back of Burbank were a beautiful blue, and… Oh, yes, I nearly forgot, the weather report said there was clear visibility, gentle shifting winds, unlimited ceiling and good flying conditions all the way to Yuma.”

“Oh, you unromantic lawyers!” she exclaimed.

“And what did you do?” Mason asked.

“I was simply ravenous,” she said. “As soon as you folks had left I telephoned for a taxicab to come to the corner and wait. I sneaked out the back door, took the cab into Hollywood and got myself a light breakfast. Then I came sweeping back to the house in a taxicab, and announced I’d taken a bus back from Santa Barbara and was famished. I’ve ordered breakfast. It’s coming up in a few minutes.

“The butler,” Mason said, “wondered what happened to my coffee cup. I strolled off with it and he missed it.”

She frowned. “It’s here in the room. I’ll take it out on the patio and leave it on one of the tables. Perhaps we’d better go now.” She picked up the cup and saucer from the dresser. “My, I really feel like a criminal. Do all lawyers make people so delightfully furtive?”

“I’m afraid you can’t blame your capacity for intrigue upon your counsel… not after the way your stars told your uncle he should consult an attorney whose name contained five letters and stood for a stone or something similar.”

She giggled delightedly and said, “I don’t know what I’d do without my astrology. And the funny part of it is my uncle claims he doesn’t believe in it.”

“Do you believe in it?” Mason asked.

“Why not?”

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

Sun was peeping into the patio. Edna Hammer sat down in one of the reclining chairs, placed the cup and saucer on a coffee table, inspected it critically and said, “It doesn’t look exactly right there, does it?”

“No,” Mason said. “Frankly, I think your butler was just a little suspicious—not that it makes any great difference now your uncle has gone.”

“Oh, but it does,” she said. “I couldn’t run out on Helen Warrington. You don’t know Bob Peasley. My heavens, he’d tear Jerry limb from limb—that is, he’d try to.” She paused to laugh at the idea of the somber Peasley becoming physically violent with the big, broadshouldered Harris. She picked up the cup and saucer, moved a few steps to one of the tiled coffee tables and pulled a catch. The hinged top swung upward, disclosing an oblong receptacle underneath the top. “I presume it was originally designed for holding knives, forks, spoons and napkins, but it makes a fine place to ditch things,” she said.

Mason watched her. Turning, she caught his eye and asked, “Why the expression?”

“What expression?”

“The peculiar look in your eye.”

“I didn’t know there was one.”

“What were you thinking of?”

“I was just thinking how little chance a clumsy man has when it comes to dealing with the finer mind of a woman.”

“In other words, that’s a nice way of saying that you think I keep bamboozling my uncle?”

“It depends on what you mean by bamboozling.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with using such mental faculties as you have in order to get what you want, do you?” she asked.

He shook his head and added, “Particularly when those mental faculties are accompanied by beauty.”

She said wistfully, “I wish I were beautiful. I’m not. I’ve got a swell figure, I know that. But my features aren’t regular. There’s too much animation in my face. I think a girl, to be beautiful, has to keep her face in repose. It makes for that virginal, dolllike something men like in their women, don’t you think so?”

“I hadn’t given it any particular thought—not along those lines,” Mason replied.

“I’ve given it lots of thought. I’d like to use my beauty. That’s what it’s for. Lots of people think I deliberately dress to show my figure. I do. I’m proud of it. Perhaps I’m a pagan little animal. Bob Peasley says I am. But I revel in having a goodlooking figure. I guess I don’t know what modesty…”

“I think,” Mason interrupted, “your butler seems to have something on his mind. He’s approaching rather purposefully.”

She broke off, stared at the butler and said in swift, low tones, “Remember, he mustn’t know I was here last night.”