Erle Gardner: The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

“Same here,” Della Street said.

Cora Felton opened the icebox, took out a bottle of prepared cocktails, and poured three drinks.

“Well,” Mason said, picking up his glass, “here’s to crime!”

“ You would!” Cora said.

On Thursday morning Gertie appeared in the doorway of Mason’s private office just as Mason and Della Street were going through the mail. “Gosh, I’m sorry to butt in, Mr. Mason,” she said, “but this was something I couldn’t handle over the phone.”

“What is it?”

Gertie’s habitually wide grin seemed even broader than usual. “I told this party you didn’t see people except by appointment, and she asked me how people got appointments. And while I was thinking that one over, she said, ‘You go tell Mr. Mason that it’s ten o’clock now and I want an appointment for five minutes after!’ I thought Della might care to look her over.”

Mason laughed. “Is she as determined as she sounds?”

“More so. She looks capable of just about anything.”

“What does she want to see me about? Did she say?”

“Sure. She talks right up. She’s a companion or an adopted aunt or something to a couple of girls, and she heard them talking about you — or one of them was talking about you. She said that you knew all about the case, but you just didn’t know her.”

“Did you get her name?” Mason asked.

“Uh-huh, it’s Adelle Winters.”

Mason shook his head. “It means nothing to me.”

“Wait a minute!” Della Street exclaimed. “Adelle Winters! That’s the woman who’s the chaperone. Remember, Chief, the case of the brunettes on the street corners?”

“I remember now,” Mason replied. “A man advertising for brunettes, with one on every street corner. By all means, let’s see what she looks like.”

Gertie retired, and a moment later Adelle Winters — Short, squat, competent, and alert — came marching into the office.

“Good morning, Mrs. Winters,” Mason said.

She regarded him with lively, suspicious eyes. “Humph! You’re a lawyer. You’re supposed to have a business office so you can see people. Ain’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Mason said, smiling.

“Well, you’d better do something about that girl out there in the other office. Telling me you didn’t see people without an appointment! So I asked her how people got the appointments in the first place if you don’t see them — and that floored her. Now I want you to listen to what I have to say and I don’t want you to send me a bill afterwards because I haven’t any money to pay lawyers. So let’s have that understood right at the start. — Who’s that woman?”

“My secretary, Miss Street.”

“Can you trust her?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“So do I. Now, you’ve got to keep it secret about my being here.”

“What’s the necessity for secrecy?”

“Well, you’ll understand when I tell you about it.”

“Do sit down,” Mason said. “It isn’t often we have clients who are so disarmingly frank about the matter of our charges — though many of them doubtless have the same idea you do.”

“Well, the way I look at things, there ain’t no harm in coming right out and saying what you’ve got in mind. Having an understanding in the first place saves a lot of trouble. Now you gave Cora Felton a ride the day that Eva Martell was hired?”

Mason nodded.

“Cora told me about that, and I’ve seen your name in the papers a lot. Seems to me you’re a mighty upstanding young man.”

“Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have come to you unless I thought you were. I wanted the best.”

Mason bowed silent acknowledgment.

“Now this job we’ve got is the craziest job a body ever had, and Lord knows I’ve seen some funny stuff in my time. I’ve been a practical nurse for — well, for a good many years. I’ve nursed all sorts of people, including neurotics and crazy guys.”

“And this is a nursing job?”

“Listen,” she said. “Get this straight, because I don’t want any misunderstanding about it. This job is a murder case.”

“Someone is about to be murdered?” Mason asked.

“Someone has been murdered.”

“Who?”

“A woman by the name of Helen Reedley.”

“Who killed her?”

“Land sakes, I don’t know! What do you suppose I’m coming to you for?”

“That’s what I’m trying to get straightened out.”

“Well, I’m coming to you because you’re a lawyer and a smart one. And Eva Martell and Cora Felton are just like daughters of mine. They’re no relation really, but I nursed their mother when they were little tots and I’ve sort of kept my eye on them ever since.”

“Now as I understand it,” Mason prompted, “Eva Martell was the one who was hired for this job.”

“That’s right.”

“Suppose you tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, both of the girls went out to see if they could land the job. I told them that it sounded pretty screwy to me, but I also told them that if they could take their own chaperone they didn’t have anything to worry about because I’d be on the job. And if some fellow thought he was going to pick himself up a nice cute chicken with an ad like that and pay a chaperone twenty dollars a day to keep her eyes closed, he had another guess coming.

“Well,” she said, “I sat up there in the apartment waiting for the girls to come back. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think that either of them would get the job — I didn’t even think there was a job. But I sat around and waited. And then Eva came in all excited. There was a man with her. He said he wasn’t Mr. Hines, but Mr. Hines’s representative, and that Eva had been hired and that we had to get on the job at once. As I said, Eva was all excited. And I didn’t blame her, because it would amount to a lot of money by the time she got paid and I got paid and all our expenses got paid! So it looked pretty good, and we started off.”

“I arrived at the apartment very shortly after you’d left,” Mason said. “I take it you got packed up in a hurry?”

“There wasn’t any packing to do — that was the first screwy thing about it — just what personal stuff we could carry in an inconspicuous little handbag, he said. And what sort of a bag do you suppose he meant, Mr. Mason?”

Mason raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

“An ordinary, everyday shopping bag,” she went on. “The man had brought it with him. He said that where we were going he didn’t want us to be seen carrying any baggage. So we were to carry that shopping bag as though we’d been out getting some groceries.”

“And then where did you go?” Mason asked.

“We went to a mighty nice little apartment. Not a swanky place but a real nice little up-to-date double apartment. Moved in just as though we owned the joint. Then the man said to me, ‘Now, Mr. Hines has a lease on this apartment, but the lease is in the name of Helen Reedley and there’s a clause in it saying that it can’t be sublet; so, in order to keep from being put out, this young lady will go by the name of “Miss Helen Reedley.” Tell everyone that’s her name, and she must remember to answer anyone who calls her Miss Reedley.’ He went on to explain to us about how tough it was to get apartments, and how the landlady was inclined to be cooperative, but after all, she couldn’t stand for too much without losing her job. However, as long as Eva had the name of Helen Reedley, it would be all right.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“It didn’t fool me for a minute,” she said truculently. “I knew there was some skulduggery afoot the minute he said that, but I wasn’t going to say anything unless he got fresh. I was there as a chaperone, and I made up my mind I was going to do a good job of it. There wouldn’t be any funny business going on with this Mr. Hines.”