Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

It was of a good grade of heavy leather, dark brown in color, was unlocked, and in gilt letters underneath the hasp was the printed name, “P. MASON.”

Mason snapped the catch, opened the briefcase and looked inside.

The interior was well filled with an orderly array of folded documents.

Mason pulled out one of the documents. It was a bond in the sum of five thousand dollars, issued by a utility company and payable to A. B. L. Seymour.

The lawyer quickly riffled through the contents of the briefcase, not taking the papers out individually but making enough of a survey to realize that the briefcase was crammed with negotiable securities, all issued to A. B. L. Seymour, and apparently all of them were endorsed in blank with the signature of A. B. L. Seymour.

Mason closed the briefcase, returned to the telephone and once more called the bell captain and identified himself. “How about baggage?” he asked. “Could I get any at this time of night?”

“Oh, yes. There’s a luggage shop here in the building. It stays open until quite late.”

“That’s fine,” Mason said. “I want a suitcase and a briefcase. I want each stamped with the name ‘P. MASON’ in gold letters.

“I want toilet articles and I’m in a terrific hurry. Will you see what you can do?”

“Right away. You want the name ‘P. MASON’ stamped in gold?”

“That’s right.”

“Would you prefer to have it ‘PERRY MASON’?”

“No. I want ‘P. MASON.’ And spend whatever money you need to get a rush job. I’ll go to thirty dollars in tips alone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mason, we’ll get busy.”

The lawyer jiggled the phone, got the operator and placed a long-distance call to Della Street at her apartment.

“In bed, Della?” he asked when he heard her voice on the line.

“Heavens, no. I was reading. How are things coming over there?”

“Not too hot,” Mason said. “I’m running into a frame-up of some sort.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice quick with alarm.

“I don’t know,” Mason told her, “but somebody is planting evidence in this case and someone has planted evidence on me.”

“What sort of evidence?”

“I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Who planted it?”

“Probably the murderer,” Mason said. “And because it couldn’t have been Morley Eden or Vivian Carson, it must have been someone else.

“Now it could conceivably have been Nadine Palmer, in which event she’s a very smart, very clever, very dangerous operator. If it wasn’t she, I just don’t have any idea who it could have been unless it was Genevieve Hyde, and she gives me the impression of being straightforward and frank.”

“The straightforward, frank ones are the dangerous ones,” Della said.

“I know it,” Mason told her. “She’s an actress. She makes her living by putting on a good show. She gets a man all enthused over the idea of gambling. She builds him up to a point where it’s easy come, easy go, and then when things go the other way she encourages him to keep on plunging until he’s had enough. By that time she manages very adroitly to withdraw herself from the picture so that there are no hard feelings.”

“That,” Della Street said, “ is a job!”

“It is,” Mason said, “but she has help; very expert feminine help that is working in a combination they understand perfectly. They have all the coordinated skill of a football team making a trick play to open up the enemy’s lines.”

“And someone has turned that combination loose on you?”

“Someone has turned that combination loose on me,” Mason said.

“I think I’d better get over there and look around,” she said. “Don’t you think you could use me?”

“I know I could use you,” Mason told her, “but there won’t be time for you to get here. If I can get rid of the hot stuff that has been dumped in my lap as a part of this frame-up I’ll be on my way back to Los Angeles before you arrive. My bungalow number is two-o-seven. If you don’t hear from me by morning, start checking.”

“Okay,” she said, “but I wish I could get there and give you some feminine support. It takes a woman to undo the machinations of another woman. A man is as helpless as a fly trapped in the gossamer of a spider web.”

“You sound almost poetic,” Mason told her.

“I don’t mean to be. I’m trying to frighten you. I could get there by midnight or soon after and—”

“The situation here will come to a head before that,” Mason said. “I’ll probably be on my way back by that time, unless I’m in jail.”

“Take care of yourself,” she pleaded.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, and said good night.

The lawyer remained in his room, impatiently pacing the floor, looking at his wristwatch a dozen times every ten minutes.

At length the phone rang. Mason hurriedly picked it up.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Mason?”

“Yes.”

“This is the bell captain. I’ll be right down with the things. We have everything.”

“That’s fine,” Mason told him.

A few moments later the bell captain arrived with a suitcase, opened it and removed a briefcase and a small nylon toilet kit.

“I just had to use my judgment, Mr. Mason,” he said. “I—”

“Fine,” Mason told him. “How much does it amount to?”

“We have one hundred and one dollars and thirty-five cents here. Now, if that’s satisfactory...”

“That’s quite satisfactory,” Mason said, handing him a hundred-dollar bill and a fifty-dollar bill, “and I certainly appreciate all you’ve done.”

“Thanks a lot,” the bell captain said. “If that luggage isn’t satisfactory...”

“But it is,” Mason said, inspecting the luggage. “It’s just what I wanted. I’m glad that you were able to get the lettering done tonight.”

“Caught them just as they were closing up,” the captain said. “They keep open at night, you know. That’s when most of the curios are sold, and the luggage store is part of the curio shop. Thank you very much, Mr. Mason. If there’s anything else we can do for you, just let us know.”

“I will,” Mason promised.

Mason opened the briefcase he had found in his room, transferred the negotiable securities to the new briefcase, put the empty briefcase in the new suitcase, locked the suitcase, put the key in his pocket and sauntered out to the casino, aware that the plainclothes detective was following only a few feet behind.

After a few moments at the tables the young woman who had pressed against him when she was making her bets came over toward him with eyes sparkling.

“I just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” Mason asked.

“For luck. My, but you brought me luck! I was having hard sledding until I came over to where you were standing and... Well, I got off balance and...” She paused, smiled and said, “Then I brushed against you — against your arm...”

“I remember,” Mason said.

“Well, that contact certainly brought me luck,” she said.

“Perhaps I could bring you some more,” Mason told her.

“I’ve had plenty for one evening.”

“How about a drink?”

“That could probably be arranged,” she said archly but with invitation in her eyes.

“You come here often?” Mason asked, leading her to the bar.

“I’m here most of the time,” she said. “I can’t stay away from gambling. How did you do tonight?”

“Fairly well,” Mason told her. “Nothing spectacular.”

“Well, you certainly can give a person luck by induction.”

“It was a pleasure to me,” Mason said.

She laughed nervously. “I brushed against you rather intimately.”