Эрл Гарднер: The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

“Perhaps,” Mason told her, “we’ll meet again when the barriers are not so sharply drawn or so effectively patroled.”

“I’m for that,” she said. “Perhaps we could ride fence together.”

“Perhaps,” Mason said.

Vivian Carson gently but firmly took her arm and drew her away.

Mason said, “Judge Goodwin is determined to force Loring Carson into making a more complete disclosure of certain community assets. He’s hoping that you’ll sue for fraud.”

“Should I?” Eden asked.

“I think you should.”

“Go ahead and sue him then,” Eden said. “File suit for all the damages you think you can recover. Pile it on just as thick as the traffic will stand.”

“Lawsuits take time and money,” Mason said.

“Shorten the time. I’ve got the money. You go ahead and—”

Chimes sounded.

“Someone at the front door,” Eden said.

Mason said, “I suggest you close the curtains in the arched doorway before answering the chimes.”

“I’ll do that,” Eden said, “but the curtain won’t shut out the sounds.”

Left alone in the divided living room, Mason sank into a comfortable chair and watched the party going on on the other side of the barbed-wire fence.

Mason heard Vivian Carson say, “All right, girls. We’re going to model the lingerie for Mrs. Sterling.”

There was a spatter of applause.

An older woman, stepping forward, said, “I’ll warn you I’m going to be difficult to sell. I want something that’s lacy, distinctive and... saucy.”

Two of the young women wheeled a dais from a corner of the room, then brought out some movable steps. Vivian Carson switched on a spotlight which played on the dais in the center.

The model who had been addressed as Helene came forward and stood up on the dais.

“May I have your attention, girls?” she said. “First I’m going to show you what I’ve got on. I think it’s sufficiently... well, saucy.”

She reached for the zipper of her dress.

Mason noticed that Vivian Carson had moved quietly and unostentatiously to the perimeter of the watching circle, that her eyes were darting in a swift survey of Morley Eden’s portion of the living room.

Mason, moving over to the fence, said, “I don’t like to mention it, Mrs. Carson, but your pigeon has flown the coop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Morley Eden isn’t here.”

“Morley Eden has nothing to do with it,” she said.

Helene slipped the dress off her shoulders, let it drop to the floor and stepped out of it.

The spotlight outlined her superb figure, arrayed in a perfectly fitted slip.

A voice said, “Now this number is thirteen twenty-six. You’ll notice the scallops around the lower edge and—”

From the outer hallway came the unmistakable sound of a blow and a thud.

Mason hurried through the heavy curtains to find Morley Eden sprawled on the floor. A younger, athletic individual, his face contorted with emotion, stood over the sprawled figure.

Eden said, “Why, you... you... I’ll...”

He started scrambling to his feet.

The other man braced himself.

“Here, wait a minute,” Mason said. “What goes on here?”

“He hit me,” Eden said.

“And I’m going to hit you again,” the man said. “Get up and take it.”

Mason pushed himself between the two men. “Now, wait a minute,” he said. “What’s all this about?”

“You keep out of this,” the man said, “unless you want some of the same.”

“All right,” Mason told him, “if that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll take some of the same.”

The man sized up Mason’s broad shoulders, granite-hard features, and hesitated. Then sudden recognition supplanted the rage in his eyes. “Why, you’re the lawyer!” he exclaimed. “You’re Perry Mason!”

“That’s right, I’m Perry Mason. Now, what’s this all about?”

Behind the lawyer, Eden, scrambling to his feet, said, “Let him try hitting me when I’m expecting it. Let him...”

Mason, keeping his body between the two men, said to Eden over his shoulder, “Just calm down a minute, Eden. Let’s find out what this is all about.”

“I’ll tell you what it’s all about,” Eden said. “He thinks I’m Loring Carson and—”

“You’re not ?” the man exclaimed.

“That man,” Mason said, “is Morley Eden. Now, who are you and what do you want?”

“Morley Eden! But... what’s he doing here?”

“For your information, he bought this property from Loring Carson. Now, who are you and what do you want?”

“My gosh, I’m sorry,” the man said. “I... I guess my temper has run away with me again.”

“I guess it has,” Mason said. “Now what’s this all about?”

“I’m Norbert Jennings. He knows who I am.”

“I know who you are simply as a name,” Eden said, moving around to flank Mason.

The lawyer, seeing there was no indication that hostilities would be resumed immediately, said, “All right, let’s get this straight. Just how do you enter into this picture, Mr. Jennings?”

“Your client will know,” Jennings said sullenly.

Eden said, “Norbert Jennings was the man Loring Carson named in his cross-complaint as having an affair with Vivian Carson.”

“I see,” Mason said.

“You don’t see anything,” Jennings said. “That man ruined me. He and his damned tin-star, gumshoe private eye.”

“He was following you?” Mason asked.

“He was following Nadine Palmer,” Jennings said.

“It was all a mistake,” Eden interposed. “Carson was supposed to put the finger on his wife for LeGrande Dayton, the detective. But the detective became confused and thought that Mrs. Palmer was the one he was to follow.”

“That’s the story now,” Jennings said. “They’ve certainly messed up my life.”

“What happened?” Mason asked.

“What happened!” Jennings said. “They smeared my name all over the court records.”

“Did it get in the papers?”

“Of course it did. I’m the prize fall guy of the year. They laugh at me at the club, at the golf course, everywhere. It’s getting so I don’t like to go out.”

“And Nadine Palmer’s husband?”

“She hasn’t any. They’re divorced,” Jennings said. “All right, we were interested in each other. I was meeting her at various places. Don’t tell me I shouldn’t, because I am not in the mood to have anyone start preaching.”

“You’re not married ?” Mason asked.

“No.”

“Then what are you kicking about?”

“Because that guy, Carson, made me a laughingstock. Getting caught was bad enough. The word was spread around that I’d been stepping out with Vivian Carson. Then it turned out that it was all a mistake and it wasn’t Vivian Carson at all, but Nadine Palmer.

“That made a funny story out of it. No one ever lives down a funny story. Everybody’s laughing at the story and sympathizing with her, and a woman of her caliber can’t stand sympathy.

“I came here to tell Loring Carson just what a heel he was. This man opened the door, asked me what I wanted and I told him who I was and then he acted dumb. I guess I got mad. I mean, I was mad. I let my temper get the best of me.”

Eden said, “You sneaked that punch in on me. You...”

“I didn’t sneak anything,” Jennings said. “After you’ve named a man as co-respondent in a cross-complaint you ought to be expecting a sock in the puss.”

“But I didn’t name anybody as co-respondent.”

Jennings slowly grinned. “All right, I’ll apologize,” he said. “Now then, you’ve got a lawyer here. You tell me how much damages you want for that sock on the puss and I’ll write you a check, and my apologies go with the check.”