Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret

Drake said, “Newspaper reporters are combing the public launching ramp, trying to find out who rented boats yesterday and what boats were put in the water. Fortunately, the caretaker there keeps a list of the collections he makes, but he doesn’t keep the licence numbers of the boats, and so far, I guess we’re the only one that has a complete list.”

“You have it?” Mason asked.

“My operative checked every boat that went out.”

“Who was the man who was doing the pole fishing?”

“Now, that’s a peculiar thing,” Drake said. “That boat was rented for half a day for fishing to two men.”

“Two men?” Mason asked.

“That’s right.”

“But there was only one man in the boat.”

Drake said, “Later on, when the boat was returned, there were two men in it.”

“Any names?” Mason asked.

“The man who runs the place doesn’t have any names. It was simply a cash rental of a boat with an outboard motor, as far as he was concerned. It was one of those low powered motors that they use for trolling and fishing, and the boat was a battered-up old hulk that wouldn’t make any speed, even with a decent motor on it.”

“And what about your man?” Mason asked.

“My man,” Drake said, “has a fair description of the two men, but that’s all. One of them was in his twenties; the other was around forty-five.”

Mason frowned thoughtfully.

Suddenly the lawyer said, “That red coffee can just seemed to disappear while you were looking at it?”

“That’s right,” Drake said. “I took my eyes off of it for a moment, and when I looked again, it was gone. I suppose the only explanation is that something knocked the lid loose and it filled with water and sank.”

Mason shook his head. “We’re dealing with people who are cleverer than the average, Paul.”

“What do you mean?”

Mason said, “Two men rented that fishing boat. One of them must have had a skin-diving outfit. I’ll bet they loaded a great big hamper in the boat and perhaps some other baggage, as well. Then they went out to a certain spot on the lake, the skin-diver put on his tanks and slipped overboard.

“The victim had been told to toss the coffee can overboard at a certain time in a certain place.”

Drake said, “The boat which put out from the Bancroft residence was operated by one person, a young woman. She tossed the coffee can over and then made a couple of circles with the boat, circling around the coffee can.”

“And, at that moment,” Mason said, “the skin-diver was coming up to pull the coffee can under. In that way, anyone who had been watching wouldn’t have seen any other boat near the place. What’s more, if police had been tipped off, there wouldn’t have been the faintest possible clue. At one minute the coffee can would have been floating, and then the next minute it wouldn’t have been floating.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Drake said, as the full force of the idea struck him.

“But,” Mason said, “you suddenly speeded up and came swirling around, cutting didos in the water, and the skin-diver was afraid to come up until you got out of there. Then your water-skier tipped into the water, juggled the coffee cans... Tell me, Paul, was that Eve Amory who did that?”

“No,” Drake said, “that was one of my operatives, one who is an expert water-skier. Of course, Eve claims that she was the one who made the find. That’s the way you instructed me to have it done.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “That boat with the pole fisherman is the solution, Paul. The skin-diver waited until you had got out of the vicinity, then he came up and grabbed the red coffee can that you had substituted, went back under water, swam under water to the bank. The pole fisherman put into the bank, the skin-diver climbed into the boat, changed his clothes and they came back as two innocent fishermen carrying a big hamper.”

“And by that time they knew they’d been gypped,” Drake said.

“That’s right. They were furious, thinking someone had double-crossed them. Then, by this morning, they’ll have read the paper and think that it just happened there were two coffee cans floating around and they grabbed the wrong coffee can, and Eve Amory happened to stumble onto the right one.”

“And by that time?” Drake asked.

“By that time, one of them will have accused the other one of double-crossing, and there’ll be some bad blood.”

“And then?” Drake asked.

“From that point on,” Mason said, “we’ll play it by ear. The main thing is to get them on the defensive and keep them on the defensive.”

“And what about the victim in this thing, the one they were putting the bite on?” Drake said. “You can imagine how she feels, reading about this in the paper.”

“Particularly,” Mason said, “when she reads about the fact that there was three thousand dollars in the coffee can.”

“The blackmailers will contact her by telephone and she’ll say she only put fifteen hundred in,” Drake said.

“And that will confirm the blackmailer’s idea that someone in the crowd is executing a double-cross, and this girl had been warned to say nothing about it.”

“You’re putting her in quite a spot,” Drake said.

Mason nodded. “So we’re going to give her an armed escort at all times, Paul. Only she won’t know a thing about it. Put an electric bug on her car. Have at least two and possibly three shadows on her at all times. Put out all the men you need to.”

“I don’t suppose I need to warn you,” Drake said, “that you’re playing one hell of a dangerous game. These fellows may mean business.”

Mason’s face was grim. “I mean business myself, Paul.”

Shortly before noon, Della Street entered Mason’s private office and said, “You are confronted with a problem.”

“What?” he asked.

“A very irate Rosena Andrews is in the outer office, with fire in her eye.”

“Any idea how she got a lead to me?” Mason asked.

“She isn’t talking,” Della Street said. “She says she has to see you immediately upon a strictly personal matter of the greatest importance.”

Mason grinned and said, “Well, we may as well face it, Della. Let her come in... Is she the type who would pull a gun out of her purse and start shooting, or would she climb across the desk and start clawing?”

“She’s the type that might do both,” Della Street said. “She’s very much a law unto herself, if I’m any judge of character.”

“Well, you certainly should be,” Mason said, “after having been on the firing line in a law office. Bring her in.”

A few moments later, Della Street held the door open and an irate, twenty-three-old woman came marching into the office, her blue eyes snapping with anger.

“You’re Perry Mason,” she said.

“That’s right,” Mason told her.

“Well, I’ll thank you to keep your hands out of my business! I don’t know just what recourse I have, but I certainly intend to take it up with the Bar Association, or anyone else in authority.”

Mason raised inquiring eyebrows. “I’ve been interfering with your business?”

“You know you have.”

“Perhaps,” Mason said, “you might care to sit down and give me the details.”

“I don’t have to sit down,” she said. “That blasted publicity in the paper this morning is enough. I know my stepfather called you yesterday upon an emergency matter and I’m giving you credit for having engineered the whole scheme.”

“The whole scheme?” Mason asked.

“You know what I mean. The grabbing of the coffee can and changing the note and putting in fifteen hundred dollars more, and... Will you kindly tell me what you’re trying to do, Mr Mason?”