Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Velvet Claws

“Can you trace her back to Georgia and find out what she’s been mixed up in?” Mason asked. “Maybe she hasn’t changed her name.”

“That’s what we’re working on now,” Drake said. “I’ve got the Georgia agency working on it. I told them to send me a wire just as soon as they had anything that looked definite, and not to wait until they had run it down, but to keep reporting progress.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “Can you tell me where Frank Locke was last night?”

“Every minute of the time. We had a shadow on that boy that stuck to him all evening. Do you want a complete report?”

“Yes,” said Mason. “Right away.”

“Where shall I send it?”

“Make sure that your messenger isn’t followed, and is somebody you can trust. Have him drop in at the Hotel Ripley, and leave it at the desk for Fred B. Johnson of Detroit.”

“Fine,” said Drake. “Keep in touch with me. I may want to get you.”

“Okay,” agreed Mason, and hung up.

He went at once to the Hotel Ripley, and asked at the desk if there was anything for Mr. Johnson. Upon being advised that there was not, he went up to 518 and tried the door. It was unlocked. He walked in.

Eva Belter sat on the edge of the bed, smoking. There was a highball glass in front of her on the stand by the bed. The whiskey bottle stood beside the glass. It was about a third empty.

In the overstuffed chair sat a big man with wavering eyes, who looked uncomfortable.

Eva Belter said, “I’m glad you came. You wouldn’t believe me, so I brought you some proof.”

“Proof of what?” asked Mason. He was staring at the big man who had risen from the overstuffed chair, and was regarding Mason from embarrassed eyes.

“Proof of the fact that the will’s a forgery,” she said. “This is Mr. Dagett. He’s the cashier at the bank where George handled all of his business. He knows a good deal about George’s private affairs. He says it’s not his writing.”

Dagett bowed and smiled. “You’re Mr. Mason,” he said, “the attorney? I’m glad to meet you.”

He did not offer to shake hands.

Mason planted his feet wide apart, and looked into the uncomfortable eyes of the big man.

“Never mind squirming around,” he said. “She’s got some hold on you or you wouldn’t be here at this hour of the morning. Probably you ring up the maid and leave a message about a hat or something. I don’t give a damn about that. What I want now are the straight facts. Never mind what she wants you to say. I’m telling you you’re giving her the most help by being on the square. Is this thing on the level?”

The banker’s face changed color. He took a half stride toward the lawyer, then stopped, took a deep breath, and said: “You mean about the will?”

“About the will,” said the lawyer.

“It is,” said Dagett. “I’ve examined that will carefully. It’s a forgery. And the remarkable thing about it is that it’s not a very good forgery at that. If you’ll study it closely, you can see that the character of the handwriting broke down once or twice in it. It’s as though some one tried to make a hasty forgery, and became fatigued during the process.”

Mason snapped, “Let me see that will.”

Eva Belter passed it over.

“How about another highball, Charlie?” she asked the banker, and tittered.

Dagett shook his head, savagely. “No,” he said, vehemently.

Mason examined the will carefully. His eyes narrowed. “By God!” he said. “You’re right!”

“There can be no question of it,” Dagett told him.

Mason turned to him sharply, “You’re willing to go on the stand and testify?” he asked.

“Good heavens, no! But you don’t need me! It’s selfevident.”

Perry Mason stared at him. “All right,” he said. “That’s all.”

Dagett walked to the door, flung it open and hurried out of the room.

Mason fastened his eyes on Eva Belter.

“Listen,” he said, “I told you you could meet me here to talk things over, but I didn’t want you to stick around the room. Don’t you realize what a position we’d be in if they discovered us here in one room at this hour of the morning?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“We’ve got to take some risks,” she said, “and I wanted you to talk with Mr. Dagett.”

“How did you get him?” he asked.

“Called him on the telephone and told him to come over, it was important. And it wasn’t nice of you to say the things you did to him. It was naughty!”

She giggled with alcoholic mirth.

“You know him pretty well?” asked Mason.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

He stood staring at her. “You know damned well what I mean. You called him Charlie.”

“Certainly,” she said. “That’s his first name. He’s a friend of mine, as well as George’s.”

“I see,” said Mason.

He went to the telephone and called his office.

“Mr. Johnson,” he said. “Has Mr. Mason come in yet?”

“No,” said Della Street, “he hasn’t. I’m afraid he’s going to be awfully busy when he does come in, Mr. Johnson. Something happened last night. I don’t know exactly what it was, but it was a murder case of some kind, and Mr. Mason is representing one of the main witnesses. There have been some newspaper reporters trying to see him, and there’s some one who insists on staying in the outer office. I think he’s a police detective. So I’m very much afraid that if you were counting on seeing Mr. Mason at the office this morning, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Gee, that’s too bad,” Mason said. “I have some papers to dictate that I know Mr. Mason would want to see, and probably he’d have to sign them. I wonder if you could tell me some one who could take them down in shorthand?”

“I think I could,” said Della Street.

“I was just wondering,” said Mason, “whether you could get away with all of the people that are around there.”

“Leave it to me,” she said.

“I’m at the Hotel Ripley,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said, and hung up.

Mason stared at Eva Belter moodily.

“All right,” he said, “since you’re here, and you’ve risked this much, you’re going to stay here for a while.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I’m going to file a petition for letters of administration,” he said. “That will force them to come out and offer the will for probate, and then we’re going to file a contest to the probate of the will, and make an application to have you appointed a special administratrix.”

“What does all that mean?”

“That means,” he told her, “that you’re going to be in the saddle from now on, and we’re going to keep you there no matter what they do.”

“What good will that do?” she asked. “If I’m virtually disinherited under the will, we’ve got to prove it’s a forgery, and I can’t get anything until after there’s been a trial and a judgment. Can I?”

“I’m thinking about the management of the properties of the estate,” said Mason, “Spicy Bits for instance.”

“Oh,” she said, “I see.”

Mason went on, “We’re going to dictate these papers all at once, and leave them with my secretary so that she can file them, one at a time. You’ve got to take that will and put it back. They’ll probably have a guard in the room so you can’t return it where you found it, but you can plant it some place in the house.”

She tittered once more. “I can do that, too,” she said.

Mason said: “You do take the damnedest chances. Why you fished that will out of there is more than I know. If you’re caught with it, it might be serious.”

“Cheer up,” she told him, “I won’t be caught with it. You don’t ever take a chance, do you?”