Erle Gardner: The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

“One more thing,” Mason said. “Has there been any man in the picture? Have you been ordered to see any man, or to be seen with any man?”

“Only Mr. Hines. He has taken us to dinner with him every night since we’ve been there.”

“Where?”

“Small restaurants — nice places, but rather small.”

“Made any passes?”

“No. Of course not. I’ve got a gun in that purse, Mr. Mason — and I can use it. If he gets fresh with Eva, I’ll pin his ears back. If he gets rough, I’ll let him look at the business end of that gun as a little reminder.”

“Do you have a permit to carry the gun?”

“No.”

“You’d better get rid of it then. You’ll get into trouble with it and be in a spot.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. You see that Eva doesn’t get into any trouble, and let me worry about my affairs. I can get by all right.”

“Better either get a permit for that gun or get rid of it. And don’t do anything more on the job until I get there. Just go back and sit still.”

“Very well.”

“All right. Remember I’ll call in an hour. Go on out and do just as I told you.”

It was twenty minutes of twelve when Mason climbed the steps to the lobby of the apartment house and pressed the button opposite the card bearing the name Helen Reedley.

Almost at once the sound of a buzzer indicated that the catch had been thrown on the outer door. Mason pushed it open, entered the lobby, found the automatic elevator, and went up to the third floor. He strode down the corridor, found the apartment he wanted, and tapped peremptorily on the panel.

Almost immediately the door was thrown open. A man bowed affably and extended a hand — the same man who had given Cora Felton the ten dollars. “Mr. Mason, I’m very pleased to meet you. Perry Mason, the famous attorney. This is indeed a pleasure. Won’t you come in?”

“I wanted to see Miss Reedley,” Mason said as he started to walk through the dim foyer.

“Unfortunately, Miss Reedley has a very severe headache, and—” the man said, and stopped abruptly. “Oh... oh!”

As Mason entered the room the light had fallen on his face and the man had recognized him. There was consternation in the blue eyes bulging behind nose-pincher glasses that left two angry red spots where they dug into the high bridge of a prominent nose.

“Mr. Mason!” the man exclaimed. “I didn’t know that you were... we’ve met before.”

“I’ve seen you before,” Mason said.

“When I was paying off one of the unsuccessful applicants for the job.”

“That’s right.”

The man rubbed his finger tips along the angle of his jaw. “That complicates the situation,” he said slowly.

“In what way?”

“Well... I’d like to know what your connection with it is.”

“And I want to know,” Mason rejoined, “what your connection with it is! What’s your name?”

“I... I am Mr. Hines’s representative.”

“Are you Mr. Hines himself?”

“Well... let’s say I’m his representative.”

“I’m asking you for your name.”

“Well, if it’s important, call me — Robert Dover Hines.”

“It is important,” Mason said. “Sit down. Where’s Helen Reedley?”

“I told you she had a severe headache.”

“That doesn’t conform with the facts of the case as I understand them. Now, let’s quit beating around the bush. What’s the game?”

“My dear Mr. Mason, I assure you that... Will you please tell me what your interest in the matter is?”

Mason said, “I want to talk with Helen Reedley.”

“That is impossible at the moment.”

“Nothing is impossible. That phone’s connected, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I fail to see what that has to do with it.”

“My own information,” Mason said grimly, “is that Miss Reedley is available. I want to talk with her, personally, now. I want her to identify herself to me as the person she claims to be. In the event that she doesn’t do that, I’m going to go over to that phone and notify the police.”

“What are you going to notify them about?” Hines asked suavely.

“You’ll find out when you hear me talk.” Mason’s tone was curt. “If you’re curious, just say the word and you can start listening.”

Hines placed his thumb on one side of his chin, the tips of his fingers on the other and made gentle, V-shaped, stroking motions. “This is indeed most unfortunate, Mr. Mason.” He was still suave.

“For whom?”

“For all concerned.”

“ I’m concerned,” Mason said, “and I don’t think it’s at all unfortunate.”

“May I ask how you learned where to find this apartment?”

“Ask anything you damn please,” Mason said. “If I feel like answering, I’ll answer. If I don’t, I won’t. In the meantime, where’s Helen Reedley?”

“Mr. Mason, let’s not get worked up over this — let’s discuss it like practical men. Perhaps, after all, there’s a chance for us to get together. I feel that if you would only be frank and tell me... ”

Mason moved quickly across the apartment to a closed door and jerked it open. It led into a closet.

Hines rushed over toward the lawyer. “Now, Mr. Mason, Mr. Mason,” he said. “You have no right to search this apartment! I must insist that you... ”

Mason brushed him aside, jerked open another door.

This one opened into a bedroom, and in that bedroom sat Adelle Winters, her hands folded in her lap, a triumphant smile on her face. Seated near her was a brunette who was quite similar in build and general appearance to Cora Felton and who seemed definitely apprehensive.

Perry Mason bowed. “Miss Reedley?”

Hines, at his elbow, answered the question. “That is Miss Reedley.”

“How’s your headache?” Mason asked.

“I... I... ”

“Come, come,” Hines protested. “This highhanded procedure is entirely illegal, Mr. Mason.”

“There’s the phone,” Mason said. “Call the police. Have me arrested.”

“Come, come, Mr. Mason,” Hines exclaimed again. “Let’s be reasonable!”

“Suits me,” Mason said. “It’s your lead. Make a play and I’ll follow suit.”

“Well, let’s go in the other room and sit down.”

“The ladies, I take it, will join us?”

The woman who Mason surmised was Eva Martell glanced uneasily at Hines, but Adelle Winters was on her feet at once. “Come, dear,” she said, and then added, “I presume this is the Mr. Mason who called up about an hour ago.”

“The same,” Mason said.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll do the talking,” Hines interposed hastily.

“I do mind,” Mason retorted.

“I mean, as far as the women are concerned.”

“Let’s quit beating around the bush, Hines. You put an ad in a paper that has a large circulation among actresses, an ad asking for women of a certain type who were free to accept a very mysterious employment. You had them all dress alike and you spotted them on street corners. You finally picked out this young woman, probably because she most resembles the woman you want her to impersonate. Now, I’ve been asked to look into this thing, at least to the extent of assuring myself there’s nothing illegal about it.”

“Who asked you to do that?”

“A client.”

Hines was evidently growing uneasy. “Mr. Mason, that answer is not satisfactory.”

“It’s satisfactory to me.”

“You want to find out whether this thing you call an impersonation is legal or not?”

“That’s right.”

“Suppose I can convince you that it is legal?”