Erle Gardner: The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

“I can make a stab at it within an hour by using the telephone, and—”

“And that’s twice too long,” Mason interrupted. “Have a man with a satchel up there inside of thirty minutes.”

Drake groaned. “If I’d said thirty minutes in the first place, you’d have cut it to fifteen. Let me get out of here, Della, and get to work before he thinks of something else.”

Drake had lost his drawl. His long legs moved in swift strides as he crossed the office and jerked the door open.

When he had gone, Mason looked at his watch, then glanced across at Della Street. “No need to wait, Della.”

“I’ll stay on the job,” she said. “You may get an idea.”

“Wish I could get one! Hang it, Della — there’s something in the case, some central point that’s eluding me.” He resumed his pacing of the floor.

“How about calls, Chief?” Della asked. “I hear the telephone in the other office buzzing.”

“Let’s see who it is,” Mason said. “If it’s a client, tell him I’m not in.”

Della Street went out to the switchboard and returned in a moment to say, “It’s Cora Felton. She says she has to talk with you, that it’s very important. I’ve put her on this line.”

Mason picked up the receiver on his desk telephone. “Hello, Cora. What is it?”

“Mr. Mason, I’m so sorry. I—”

“That’s all right, I was up here working on the case anyway.”

“No, no — I mean so sorry about what’s happened.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t do the right thing in getting you to represent Aunt Adelle. I did tell you that she isn’t always reliable in what she says, but I didn’t realize how far she would—”

“Come on,” Mason interrupted. “Out with it, Cora! Never mind the alibis or apologies. What is it?”

“Oh, Mr. Mason, I... I hardly know how to tell you.”

“Just tell it!”

“Well, I have just been visiting with Aunt Adelle. I had a pass to get in and see her... Well, she told me that what she had said wasn’t entirely the truth.”

“About what?”

“About the wallet.”

Mason groaned. “Do you mean to say she did get it from the man’s dead body?”

“I... I don’t know, Mr. Mason.”

“Exactly what did she tell you?”

“Well she said she got it afterwards; that most of the things happened just as she told you, but that the wallet was there after she came back to the apartment. I was talking with her about how fine you had been and how marvelously you were handling the case. Well, then she started to cry, and she said she felt like a heel!”

“Where are you now?” Mason asked.

“In a drugstore about two blocks from the City Hall.”

“Hop a taxi and get up here,” Mason said. “You’ll just have time to make it if you hurry. I must see you before I go to the Grand Jury room.”

When he had hung up he said to Della Street, “Here’s a pretty how-do-you-do! Did you listen in?”

“Yes, and I took notes in shorthand.”

“Good girl! I— Oh, Lord, there’s somebody at the door.”

Insistent knuckles were pounding on the exit door of Mason’s private office. Mason nodded to Della, who went and opened the door. It was Mae Bagley.

“Oh, Mr. Mason,” she began impetuously, “I wouldn’t do this for worlds! Only — well, I’ve been subpoenaed to appear before the Grand Jury again, and Mr. Gulling has been talking to me—”

“Sit down,” Mason told her. “What did Mr. Gulling say?”

“He said they had all the evidence they really needed to show that you had put Eva Martell in my rooming house, but they wanted to really clinch the case; that I would get complete immunity if I’d tell them the truth; that they wouldn’t bother me about my license or about being an accessory. They’d take it for granted that you had influenced me. He said that everything would be all right — there’d be no perjury charge, or anything.”

“What did you say?” Mason said.

“I looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Why, Mr. Gulling, I can’t understand how you could possibly make such a proposition. I should think you’d realize that a woman in my position couldn’t afford to lie. If I had ever seen Eva Martell before, or if Mr. Mason had brought her to my house, I’d have told you!’ ”

“Make it stick?”

“I don’t know... ”

Mason said, “Look, Mae, my advice to you is to take advantage of that offer and tell the truth.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course I mean it.”

“You mean to come right out and tell them everything that happened?”

“Yes — come right out and tell them everything that happened.” Mason repeated. “You shouldn’t have lied to protect me in the first place. You’ve got yourself in bad, and I certainly don’t want to hide behind your skirts.”

“Why — why, I had no idea of telling them! I just thought you ought to know.”

“You’re on your way up there now?” Mason asked.

“Yes.”

“Go tell them the whole story,” Mason said, “and say that I told you to.”

“Well... well, thanks, Mr. Mason. I... gosh, I had no idea you’d tell me anything like that.”

“That’s my advice to you,” Mason said, “and be on your way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mason. I just want you to know how I feel... I’d do anything for you, anything on earth, even go to jail!”

“That’s fine,” Mason told her with a smile, “but you just tell them the truth and things will straighten out all right.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mason. I... I’ll see you up there, I suppose.”

“Probably,” Mason said.

She walked over to the exit door, nodded to Della Street, gave Mason a warm smile, and before the automatic door check had pulled the door into place, they could hear the clack of her heels along the corridor.

Mason looked across at Della Street and shrugged. “As an attorney, it was the only advice I could give — just to tell the truth.”

Della Street nodded and got to her feet, saying, “My nose shines. You’ll be here for a few minutes yet?”

“Yes, Cora Felton is coming up.”

Della let herself out into the corridor and the door closed. Mason groaned, looked at his watch, and resumed his restless walking of the floor.

Della Street ran down the corridor to catch Mae Bagley at the elevator. “Mae,” she said in a quick whisper, “you understand, don’t you?”

“What?”

“That was the only advice Mr. Mason could give you. If he had told you not to say anything, or to tell a falsehood, it would have been a conspiracy to commit perjury if — well, if it should ever come out.”

“Listen, sister, you don’t need to worry about me,” Mae assured her. “You tell Mr. Mason to just go ahead with what he has to do and quit worrying about anything I may say. Anything Gulling gets out of me he can put in his eye!”

The two women looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly Mae Bagley’s arms were around Della. “You poor kid!” she said. “You’re shivering. Is it that bad?”

“Gosh,” Della admitted, “I don’t know, but I am worried.”

“It’ll be okay! Skip on in and give him a pat on the back. Tell him what I’ve just told you.”

Della Street shook her head. “I can’t tell him in so many words,” she said. “It’s one of those things nobody can ever talk about. We just— Well, at a time like this, we just have to take each other on faith.”

The elevator cage lighted up the shaft and then came to a stop. As the door slid open Mae Bagley walked in, turned, and waved at Della encouragingly.

Della was walking slowly back to the office when the second cage came to a stop. The door slid open and Cora Felton hurried out.