Эрл Гарднер: The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

Perry Mason — Past master at untangling people and murder, even when it involves untangling a barbed-wire fence

Della Street — Right-hand girl, she keeps track of Perry’s appointments and of Perry

Morley Eden — He built his dream house, but he hadn’t counted on a barbed-wire fence running through the middle of it, or an ex-model in a bikini — on the other side

Judge Hewitt L. Goodwin — He was more interested in seeing real justice done than in sticking to the fine points of the law

Vivian Carson — She was determined to get back at her husband, if she had to seduce another man through a fence to do it

Norbert Jennings — He slugged the wrong man because his girl was mistaken for the wrong woman

Paul Drake — His work for Perry Mason went from shadowing clients to mixing fingerprints

Loring Carson — A fast-talking, aggressive contractor, he cut too many corners — including selling a lot that wasn’t his

Nadine Palmer — She was shadowed by Carson’s detective, and her reputation blasted by Carson — except she was the wrong woman

Lieutenant Tragg — He thought the police could investigate the case very well without Perry Mason’s help — after he had taken all of Perry’s suggestions

Genevieve Hyde — A snaky-looking Las Vegas hostess, she was where Loring Carson got away from it all

Paulita Marchwell — She rubbed up against Perry for luck — or that’s what she thought

Judge Nedley C. Fisk — A kindly-looking judge, his mind was sharp as the proverbial razor

Morrison Ormsby — As Prosecutor, all he had in mind was to hang both of Perry's clients

Perry Mason, reading a Supreme Court decision, looked up as Della Street, his confidential secretary, entered the office.

“Della,” he said, “endless complications can flow from human conduct. A lawyer never knows what’s going to turn up next.”

Della Street, a slight smile elevating the corners of her lips, said, “The case of Morley Eden, for instance.”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “Take— Who did you say, Della?”

“Morley Eden.”

“Eden... Eden,” Mason repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t remember that case. What was it, Della?”

“You haven’t heard it yet,” Della Street said. “He’s waiting in the outer office. He seems to be in quite a predicament.”

“What’s his trouble?” Mason asked.

“A beautiful woman has run a five-strand barbed-wire fence through the middle of his house,” Della Street said.

Mason’s eyes searched her. “Is he kidding you, or are you kidding me?” he asked.

“Neither. There’s a five-strand barbed-wire fence running directly through his house, with an attractive woman living on the other side of the fence. She apparently has a striking figure, takes sunbaths, but—”

Mason said, “Now that’s a situation which illustrates my point. By all means, let’s hear the story at firsthand.”

“You have an appointment in fifteen minutes,” Della Street reminded him.

“That’s one client who will have to wait a few minutes,” Mason said. “We must talk with Morley Eden.”

Della Street vanished through the door to the outer office and in a matter of seconds was back, escorting a somewhat stocky individual in his early thirties who was grinning broadly.

“Mr. Mason, Mr. Eden,” Della Street said, and moved over to her secretarial chair.

Eden shook hands. “How are you, Mr. Mason? I’ve heard a lot about you and made up my mind I’d come to you if I was accused of murder. Now I’ve gone and got myself in a real predicament.”

Mason said, “I have an appointment in about fifteen minutes. Can you hit the high spots, Mr. Eden?”

“Sure can,” Eden said. “Only you’re going to cuss me for being so dumb and you’ll be a hundred percent right. I brought it all on myself.”

Eden sat down in the chair Mason indicated. “It would be funny if it weren’t so damned annoying,” he said.

Mason passed him a cigarette, took one himself, lit up and said, “Go ahead.”

“A fellow by the name of Carson — Loring Carson — had a building site that was a natural for me. It was on two lots he’d bought on speculation for the purpose of putting up a building to sell at a profit. I had a certain type of house I’d designed and this ground had just the right contours... Now, don’t ask me if I’m an architect because I’m not. I’m just a dabbler. I like to dream things up. I became interested in house designing from reading these magazines containing photographs of modern homes — gracious living and all that.

“Carson is a building contractor. He offered me a deal for immediate spot cash that was such a bargain I couldn’t resist it. His agreement was to sell me the lots and construct the house to completion within ninety days.

“Now there, of course, is where you’re going to start cussing me, and you can’t cuss me any more than I’ve cussed myself. I wanted to get the house started. Loring Carson wanted cash — cash on the barrelhead. I did a quick check and found that part of the property belonged to Loring Carson and part to his wife. I figured he was acting for both of them, so I went ahead with him and he started building. I guess I went ahead too fast.”

“If the Carsons owned the property free and clear,” Mason said, “how does it happen that—”

Eden said, “His wife had filed suit for divorce.”

“But if it was community property,” Mason said, “the husband is the manager of the property, and if the consideration was adequate...”

“That’s the whole trouble,” Eden said. “It wasn’t community property; at least, half of it wasn’t. When he bought the property he’d used her separate funds to buy one of the lots and community funds to buy the other. The thing was all mixed up. The judge held one of the two lots was her separate property and the other was community property, which he awarded to Loring Carson as his separate property.”

Mason said, “She made no objection when you started building?”

“That’s the bad part,” Eden said. “I got a letter from her — nicely perfumed stationery — telling me that I was building on her property.”

“And what did you do then?”

“Well, I had things started by that time. I asked Carson what he meant by not telling me about the divorce action, and he told me that there was nothing to it, that he had her right where he wanted her, that he’d had a detective on her trail, that she had been stepping out and he had the proof. He said that when he filed his cross-complaint she’d fold up like a blown-out tire. And then he’d deliver me a good deed.

“Well, naturally I just didn’t want to take his word for it. I said I wanted to talk with his detective.”

“You did?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. Fellow by the name of LeGrande Dayton.”

“And you were reassured as a result of that conversation?” Mason asked.

“Reassured?” Eden said. “I took one look at the evidence he had and decided Carson was right as rain. I just went ahead and ignored this letter from the wife, Vivian Carson.”

“And what happened?” Mason asked.

“Oh, Carson filed his cross-complaint all right, and then they started taking depositions, and then it turned out that this detective had been following the wrong woman. The plan was for Carson to point out his wife so that Dayton could start shadowing her. Carson and Dayton were in a car parked in front of a building where Loring Carson knew his wife was attending a meeting.