Erie Gardner - The Case of the Lazy Lover

“No, I suppose not.”

“Nor the fact that I feel something should be done about it.”

“Such as what, Counselor?”

“Taking steps to see that no other forged checks are cashed.”

“That, of course, will be done, almost as a routine — fancy a forged check being used to retain a lawyer to ask that the account be protected from further forgeries! One would almost think that...”

“Yes, go on,” Mason said as the banker hesitated.

“That it had been planned that way.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Mason snapped.

“No, no, of course not! I merely said one would almost think so.”

“Thank you,” the lawyer said, “for stopping your thinking at the almost,” and walked out.

Mason handed his oblong parking ticket to the attendant of the lot next to the bank, said, “Were you on duty at ten o’clock?”

The attendant nodded, said cautiously, “What’s the trouble?”

“No trouble,” Mason said. “I wanted to get some information about someone who parked an automobile here for a few minutes.”

The man laughed and said, “Look, buddy, in order to keep this lot running, we have to handle hundreds of automobiles in the course of a day and...”

“This young woman,” Mason interrupted, “is one you probably would have noticed. She had a good figure, a tight-fitting blue suit, blue suede purse, a saucy little hat with red trim, on one side of her head, long dark eyelashes...”

“Would I have noticed a number like that!” the man said with enthusiasm. “Just hearing you describe her makes my mouth water. What about her?”

“Nothing, if you didn’t notice her.”

“I don’t think she parked her car here. You say it was this morning?”

“Almost exactly at ten o’clock this morning.”

“I don’t think so. We’re not too busy at ten o’clock in the morning. It isn’t until the streets begin to fill up that they start coming in here.”

Mason thanked him, paid for his car, circled around the block and drove into the parking station across the street from the bank.

“You on duty at ten this morning?” he asked the attendant.

The man hesitated before answering.

Mason said, “You’re eligible for a five dollar reward, if you were.”

“That’s different! What’s the reward for?”

“I am trying to find out something about a girl about twenty, twenty-one, or twenty-two years old, blue suit, nice figure, brunette, blue leather purse, blue gloves, a tricky little hat on one side of her head, who...”

“What do you want to know about her?”

“Anything I can find out. Do you remember her?”

“I think I do. What about the five bucks?”

“A little information about the make and model of the car she was driving, or anything of that sort.”

The man grinned. “Give me the five bucks, mister.”

Mason passed him a five dollar bill.

“It’s a Chrysler convertible from a drive-yourself agency in the city. I don’t know the name of the agency, but I know it was a drive-yourself outfit. I remember her because she was a neat little number and I was especially nice to her. Sometimes that gets you something.”

“Get you anything this time?” Mason asked.

“A smile.”

“That’s all?”

“That was enough.”

“You didn’t try to find out anything about her or...”

“Nope. She wasn’t that kind.”

“That’s all you know?”

“That’s it.”

Mason said, “Play the ponies with the five bucks. Perhaps you’ll be lucky.”

“Perhaps I will. Thanks.”

From a telephone Mason called Drake’s office and when he had the detective on the line, said, “Paul, I want you to cover the drive-yourself agencies. I want you to find out anything you can about a woman around twenty-one, twenty-two, or twenty-three, who rented a drive-yourself car this morning.” Swiftly he described her. “She may or may not have given the name of Milford. She had a Chrysler convertible, and I want every place in the city covered and covered fast.”

“Okay,” Drake said. “Anything else?”

“That’s all. What’s new at your end?”

Drake said, “I haven’t made too much headway, Perry. I haven’t been able to get a photograph of Mrs. Allred, as yet. Patricia Faxon left the house shortly after nine o’clock this morning and hasn’t been back since. No one seems to know exactly where she is. I’ve found the place where the runaway couple stayed in Springfield. Provided it is the runaway couple and not a couple of ringers who are acting as red herrings.”

“How come?” Mason asked.

“This couple,” Drake said, “showed up in a motel at Springfield a little after midnight Saturday. They wanted a double cabin. The motel had only one left. They took it. The woman was driving the car and she conducted all the negotiations and did the registering. The man sat in the car with his arms folded, apparently too lazy to move, and didn’t show the slightest interest in what was going on. The woman registered as ‘R. G. Fleetwood and Sister,’ and said they would occupy the cabin for two nights.

“Sunday morning, the woman went over to the motel office and inquired about renting dishes and about a grocery store that would be open on Sunday.”

“Was there a kitchen in the double cabin they occupied?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. The motel rented her a set of dishes and told her where she could buy groceries. She drove off and returned with a big basket of groceries on the seat beside her.”

“Did the man go with her?”

“No. She said he was sleeping, he liked to sleep late on Sunday mornings. The woman evidently did all the cooking all day Sunday, and also this morning. She showed up about nine-thirty this morning, returned the dishes all nicely cleaned and polished, announced that they were checking out, and left shortly after. No one seems to know in which direction she was headed.”

“They got in about midnight Saturday?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. It may have been a half an hour after midnight, but I figure a good two hours’ driving time from here to Springfield, so they must have left around — oh, say around ten o’clock in the evening, and figuring that they might have got into Springfield at half an hour or so after midnight, you can figure they must have left the city by ten-thirty at the latest.”

“And the woman wanted a double cabin?”

“That’s right, insisting that it must have three separate beds.”

“Why did she want three separate beds for herself and her brother?”

“She didn’t say. Simply said she wanted a double cabin. She preferred one double bed and twin beds. Of course, at the time, the people at the motel didn’t ask how many were in the party. They acted on the assumption there would be three, at least, and fixed the price accordingly.”

“How about descriptions?” Mason asked.

“Descriptions check as nearly as I can get them,” Drake said. “Of course, the woman could have been a ringer and it could all be a beautiful red herring. I also have something on the telegram. The telegram was sent from Springfield by a woman who telephoned in from a pay station. She was advised that the charge for the telegram would be forty cents, and dropped the forty cents into the coin slot of the pay station telephone. That’s all Western Union knows about it.”

Mason laughed and said. “The bank unhesitatingly accepts the telegram as confirming the check and it now appears the telegram has no greater authenticity than a voice saying it belonged to Lola Faxon Allred.”

“That’s right,” Drake said. “I couldn’t get anything more on the man. The only time anyone saw him was in the car when they arrived.”