Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

“And you didn’t get in touch with Dad Gilman about it, you got in touch with Muriell. I’m quite certain Muriell hasn’t known you more than twenty-four hours... if Muriell had known you, we’d have learned about it. Not that Muriell’s a name-dropper, you understand, Mr. Mason, but she’d certainly have managed some way to have brought it into the conversation... ‘As my friend, Mr. Perry Mason, the noted lawyer, said on occasion...’ ”

Glamis shook her head. “You’re being very, very difficult, Mr. Mason. I see that I’m going to have to do some intensive research.”

“Aren’t you doing it now?”

“Heavens, no! I’m just hitting the high spots. I’m watching your face and noticing the very slight but very definite expression of irritation which comes around the corners of your eyes. Has anybody ever told you that you squint your eyes just the least little bit at the corners when you’re being irritated, Mr. Mason?”

“I wasn’t aware of it,” Mason said.

They drove for a long while in silence, Glamis studying the lawyer.

Glamis laughed and said, “I didn’t mean to irritate you, Mr. Mason. Now that I’ve smoked you out I think perhaps we should improve the opportunity to get acquainted personally and socially, and not let me pry into business matters which I’m quite certain you feel are no concern of mine.

“I wonder if you play golf... no, I don’t suppose you have time. You’re one of these tremendously busy people. You have all that drive and... well, there’s an aura of success about you. Really, I’m rather proud of myself. You remember I said before I knew who you were that you’d be at the top of your profession.”

Mason grinned. “I would say you were pretty good at character analysis and at flattery.”

“I’m a splendid little prober,” Glamis said. “I like to inquire into things. I like to listen to what people say and occasionally, when they make a slip, I look at them with an expression of most cherubic innocence.

“You know, it’s wonderful to be young and able to look unsophisticated, Mr. Mason. I suppose a few years more and I won’t be able to get away with it... Still, you can’t tell. If the expression of cherubic innocence has persisted so far in spite of my checkered career... Well, I guess we won’t go into that. I’ll be evasive myself.”

“You make yourself sound delightfully mysterious,” Mason said. “I know you’re besieged by admirers, yet apparently you haven’t said yes to anyone because there’s no diamond on your left hand.”

“Well, aren’t you observing,” she said. “For your information, Mr. Mason, the monosyllabic affirmative doesn’t necessarily mean a diamond, in this day and age.”

“That,” Mason said, “has all the elements of being a cryptic wise-crack.”

“How adroitly you’ve managed to shift the subject of conversation from you to me, Mr. Mason. And now I perceive by a slightly relaxed expression at the corner of your eyes that you’re very much at ease, which means, I take it, that we’re approaching your office building where you park your car... I’d better look at the parking ticket Muriell gave me and see... That’s right, your parking lot is right ahead on the left... That’s the parking lot I usually use when I run into Dad Gilman’s office to do errands. His office is in the Piedmont Building.”

“My office is in this building right here,” Mason said, as he turned into the parking lot.

“And, as a regular tenant, you have a duly assigned parking space, I see,” she said, as Mason turned into the parking space.

“Exactly,” Mason said.

She said, “If you’d walk around to the right-hand side of the car and let me out, Mr. Mason, I’d reward you again. But, after all, I’m in a terrific hurry and I know you want to get rid of me as soon as possible. It was nice seeing you and I hope I see you again.

“ ’Bye, now.”

She opened the door on the right-hand side of the car, jumped to the ground and hurried over to the parking attendant, holding out her parking ticket.

Mason sat for a moment in the car, then looked around for Paul Drake but was unable to spot him.

The lawyer retrieved the brief case from the car.

One of the parking attendants brought up the club coupe. Glamis Barlow flung open the door and jumped inside, slammed the door shut with one motion and swept the car into speed.

As she drove out of the parking lot Mason saw Paul Drake, driving his nondescript agency car, come from a stall on the other side and swing in behind her.

The lawyer tried to catch Drake’s eye in order to flash him a signal but was unable to do so. After a moment he turned, walked to the sidewalk, then turned sharply to the left and walked to the Piedmont Building.

Mason entered the offices of the Gilman Associates Investment Pool at precisely twenty-six minutes after five o’clock.

An exceptionally beautiful red-haired receptionist looked up from the switchboard and smiled as though she meant it.

“I’m Mr. Mason,” the lawyer said. “I have an appointment with Mr. Calhoun.”

“Oh, yes. Just a moment, Mr. Mason. He’s waiting for you. In fact, we were all asked to wait.”

She depressed a key, said, “Mr. Mason is here,” then said, “You may go right on in, Mr. Mason, right down the passageway, and it’s the second door on the right.”

Mason glanced around the reception room, noting its deep carpet, comfortable chairs, and copies of some of the leading financial magazines on the table. As he walked past the door of an adjoining room he had a quick glimpse of batteries of filing cases and saw several secretarial desks equipped with typewriters and transcribing machines.

Down the corridor Mason walked past a door marked CARTER GILMAN and then beyond to a door marked ROGER C. CALHOUN.

Mason opened the door and entered another office in which an attractive brunette who could well have posed for a calendar ad said, “Mr. Mason?”

The lawyer nodded.

“If you’ll go right on to Mr. Calhoun’s private office,” she said, “he’s expecting you.”

Mason went through the door she indicated and entered an office where a small-boned, wiry man in the early thirties sat in a big chair behind a massive desk.

The man got up, walked around the desk and said, “Mr. Mason, I’m pleased to meet you.”

Long, bony fingers gripped the lawyer’s hand.

“Please be seated, Mr. Mason.”

Calhoun indicated a comfortable chair, then walked around to the other side of the desk, seated himself in the armchair, propped his elbows on the arm of the chair, extended long, tapering fingers, touched the tips of the fingers of each hand together and assumed his most impressive manner.

Mason said, “I am an attorney at law, Mr. Calhoun, and—”

“Yes, yes, I know all about you, Mr. Mason.”

Mason bowed his head. “And I am here,” he said, “on rather a peculiar matter. I have been asked to deliver to you some contracts which I believe Mr. Gilman has been working on. I think it is only fair to state that I am somewhat in the nature of a common carrier in the matter. I am delivering contracts which I haven’t read and about which I know nothing except I was instructed to deliver them and to instruct you that they were to be executed.”

Calhoun sat forward in the chair, parted his hands and said eagerly, “Yes, yes, Mr. Mason, I’ve been waiting for those contracts all day. A very important business deal is pending and... can you tell me where Mr. Gilman is?”

“I’m afraid I can’t at the moment,” Mason said, with his voice indicating courteous surprise. “He hasn’t been in touch with you?”