Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Reluctant Model

“Go ahead.”

“He discussed Mr. Rankin, made some remark about him that I thought was just a little, well, a little — it would have been what you would call catty if he had been a woman.”

“But he wasn’t a woman,” Mason said.

“Definitely not!” she observed with emphasis.

“I take it his hands were restless?” Mason asked.

“All masculine hands are restless,” she said casually. “His were persistent.”

“And then?”

“I told him that I liked Mr. Rankin, that Rankin had befriended me and I liked him, and he said, ‘All right, like him if you want to as a friend but don’t buy any art from him or you’ll get stuck.’ ”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I asked him what he meant by it.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said that Rankin either had lousy judgment or victimized his customers, that one of the paintings on the yacht which had been sold by Rankin to Olney was a fake.”

“You asked him which one?”

“Yes.”

“And he told you?”

“Yes, the Phellipe Feteet that was hanging in the main salon.”

“That’s quite a yacht?” Mason asked.

“It’s quite a yacht,” she said. “It was designed to go anyplace the owner wanted to go, around the world — anywhere.”

“Olney goes around the world?”

“I don’t think so. He does a little cruising once in a while but primarily he uses it for parties where... where he can entertain his artistic friends. He lives on board a great deal of the time.”

“He doesn’t have his artist friends at his home?” Mason asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think his wife approves.”

“You’ve met her?”

“Definitely not.”

“But you do know Olney?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” Mason said. “I have to be crude about this. You’re going to be a witness.”

“I don’t want to be a witness.”

“You just about have to be a witness,” Mason said. “A statement was made to you. You’re going to have to repeat that statement. Now then, what I want to know is whether cross-examination could bring out anything that would be personally embarrassing.”

“That depends on the cross-examination,” she said, again meeting his eyes frankly. “I’m twenty-nine years old. I don’t think any girl twenty-nine years old could be cross-examined without—”

“Wait a minute,” Mason said, “don’t get me wrong. I’ll get right down to specific statements. Is there any romantic attachment between you and Lattimer Rankin?”

Her laugh was spontaneous. “Heavens, no! Lattimer Rankin thinks art, dreams art and eats art. His interest in me is as an artist. He has secured me commissions on a few portraits. He’s a real friend. But the idea of any romance in Lattimer Rankin’s mind— No, Mr. Mason. Definitely no.”

“All right,” Mason said, “there’s one more question. How about Otto Olney?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I can’t be sure about Olney.”

“You know whether you’ve had any romantic interludes with him.”

“There haven’t been any romantic interludes,” she said, “but he notices figures — and I have a figure.”

“Have you ever been out with him alone?”

“No.”

“No romantic discussions?”

“None. Except that... well, if I were out alone with him he’d make passes.”

“How do you know?”

“Just on the basis of experience.”

“But you’ve never been out alone with him?”

“No.”

“And he hasn’t made any passes?”

“No.”

“Now, let’s not misunderstand each other,” Mason said. “That’s one place where you and I can’t possibly afford to have any misunderstanding.

“I don’t know this man, Durant, but if he starts fighting he’ll get detectives. He’ll prowl into your past as well as your present.”

“I take it,” she said, meeting his eyes, “that no matter what he finds out he can’t use any of it unless it pertains to Rankin or Olney.”

“Or to the art expert, George Lathan Howell,” Mason said, consulting his notes.

She said, “Mr. Howell is very, very nice.”

“All right,” Mason said, “let’s come right down to it. He’s very nice. You know him, he knows you?”

“Yes.”

“Any romance?”

“I could lie,” she said.

“Here, or on the witness stand?”

“Both.”

“I wouldn’t,” Mason said.

She hesitated a moment, then again the blue eyes, frank and steady, met Mason’s.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, romance.”

“All right,” Mason told her. “I’m going to try to protect you as much as possible. I’ve got to put through a phone call right away.”

Mason nodded to Della Street. “Get Lattimer Rankin on the phone.”

A moment later when Della Street nodded, Mason picked up the telephone on his desk, said, “Mason talking, Rankin. You were speaking about George Lathan Howell as an art expert. I have an idea it might be better to get some other art expert.”

“What’s the matter?” Rankin asked. “Isn’t Howell okay? He’s the best man I know of, and I—”

“It has nothing to do with his professional qualifications,” Mason interrupted, “And I’m not able to give you a reason. I simply have to advise you as your attorney. What other expert do you know who would be a good man?”

“There’s Corliss Kenner,” Rankin said after a moment.

“Who’s he?”

“ She. A darned good art expert. A little young, but she certainly knows her onions and I’d take her word on a picture just as readily as I would that of anyone in the business.”

“That’s fine,” Mason told him. “Does she have the hatchet-faced type of competency or—”

“Heavens, no!” Rankin interrupted. “She’s terribly attractive. She’s a smart dresser, well-groomed, swell figure—”

“How old?”

“Lord, I don’t know. In the thirties somewhere.”

“Middle, latter part?”

“No, I’d say about the first part.”

“How about using her?” Mason asked.

“I think that would be fine. Of course, I’ve been thinking, Mason, that would be up to Olney. He’d probably want to call in his own appraiser but — I have an idea he’d rather have her than anyone.”

“All right, that’s fine,” Mason said. “Just a moment.”

Mason held his hand over the phone, looked at Maxine Lindsay with a smile. “I take it,” he said, “there’s no reason why cross-examination in a case where Corliss Kenner was an art expert would prove embarrassing in any way.”

Her eyes were smiling. “There is no reason why it would prove embarrassing in any way,” she said.

“Okay,” Mason said into the telephone, “forget Howell and suggest Corliss Kenner. I’m getting an affidavit from Maxine Lindsay. She isn’t particularly anxious to get mixed into it but she’ll ride along.”

“She’s a good kid,” Rankin said, “and while of course her technique is somewhat mechanical, I’m going to be able to do a lot for her. Tell her I’m getting her another commission for two children.”

“I’ll tell her,” Mason said, and hung up.

“May I ask why the affidavit?” Maxine Lindsay asked.

“The affidavit,” Mason said, looking her straight in the eyes, “is to be sure that you don’t lead us down a garden pathway.

“You tell me certain things. I advise a client on the basis of those things. I have to assume that if and when you get into court and get on the witness stand you will testify to those same things that you have told me. If you don’t, my client would be in serious difficulties.”