Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Shapely Shadow

“And what happened then?”

“He phoned that he wouldn’t be back in the office any more, that he had to drive to Bakersfield, that he was going to be in conference with Cole Troy, that I could reach him there if anything of any great importance turned up, but he didn’t think it would. He thought everything was under control.”

“He’d asked you about the suitcase?”

“Oh, yes, as soon as I got back to the office.”

“And about you leaving it in the locker?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“And he seemed to be somewhat relieved after he found out what you had done?”

“Yes.”

“Now, you didn’t tell him anything about stopping here, or anything about that?”

“Heavens, no! I wouldn’t let him know that for worlds — I can try to protect him, Mr. Mason, but I... well, I simply couldn’t interfere in his business affairs.”

“All right,” Mason said, “be very, very careful that you don’t lie to any officers who ask you questions. Now, that doesn’t mean you have to tell them everything you know. Simply be careful that you don’t lie. Say that you are not in a position to discuss Mr. Theilman’s business affairs, that he left the office early yesterday, and that was the last you saw of him.

“Now, if they ask you if anything unusual happened yesterday, tell them that Mr. Theilman’s business was frequently unusual and there were all sorts of things that happened yesterday, but they are things that you don’t feel free to discuss without his consent.

“Now, remember that. Leave yourself a margin of safety so that if anything happens and you have to testify as to exactly what happened, you don’t make yourself out a liar. Keep in the role of a confidential secretary who is protecting the interests of her employer. You understand that?”

“I understand, Mr. Mason.”

“All right,” Mason told her. “If you hear anything more, ring me up, and if it’s after office hours and this office is closed, ring up the Drake Detective Agency. They have offices here in the building and Paul Drake does my work. Leave a message for Paul Drake.”

“The Drake Detective Agency?”

“That’s right. They have a twenty-four-hour service.”

“Heavens, Mr. Mason, they don’t know anything about... about my coming to see you, do they?”

“No,” Mason said. “They are doing some investigative work for me, that’s all. Now, let me ask you one more thing. Had you ever heard of A. B. Vidal before his name came up in connection with this mysterious business deal?”

“No.”

“Mr. Theilman had never had any dealings with him that you know of?”

“No.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Sit tight and be careful you don’t lie. Where are you now? The number we called isn’t the office number.”

“I know it isn’t. After the officer called, I became panic-stricken. I was afraid to stay there in the office until I’d talked with you. So I closed up the office and hurried back to my apartment.”

“Go back to the office,” Mason instructed. “Act as naturally as possible. Don’t lie to the police. On the other hand, don’t tell them anything about this suitcase or the letter. Tell the police you’ll need specific authorization from your boss before you tell them anything.”

“This detective said Mrs. Theilman had said it would be all right for me to tell them anything I knew — in a business way.”

“Are you working for Mrs. Theilman?”

“No.”

“All right, then. Do as I’ve told you.”

“Yes, Mr. Mason.”

“But don’t lie,” Mason warned again.

Mason dropped the telephone back in the cradle, looked at Della Street thoughtfully, said, “Get Paul Drake for me, Della.”

A few moments later Drake’s code knock sounded on the office door.

“How’s everything coming, Paul?” Mason asked.

“So-so,” Drake said. “We’re sitting on the deal at the post office. There’s a letter there for A. B. Vidal. I guess Della told you. I reported to her.”

“All right,” Mason said. “What do you know about the locker system down at the Union Depot?”

“Quite a bit,” Drake said. “Why?”

“I want to look in a locker.”

“That can be arranged very easily, if all you want to do is look. If you want to search anything that’s on the inside, the situation is different.”

“You know the people that run the lockers?”

“That’s right. They have a troubleshooter and I’ve done him a favor once or twice before.”

“Let’s go take a look,” Mason said, “and I think you’d better come along, Della.”

“What locker do you want to look into?”

“I’ll tell them when I get there,” Mason said. “I just wouldn’t be too surprised, Paul, if— Well, I’m not going to commit myself now. Let’s go.”

“My car or yours?” Drake asked.

“Yours,” Mason said. “I want to think while you drive.”

“I’ll make a phone call first and have this man meet us there,” Drake said. “He’s a good egg.”

“He’ll be there by the time we are?”

“Sure. He’s on the job off and on all the time. He’s a troubleshooter and serviceman.”

“They have a master key that enables them to get into any of those lockers?” Mason asked.

Drake said, “I know they do, but I’ve never gone into details of the modus operandi. I know I can get you a look, however.”

“You do your telephoning,” Mason said, “and we’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

Mason and Della Street took the elevator to the lobby, waited some three minutes before Drake showed up with the announcement that everything was all fixed, that a man by the name of Smith would be waiting for them when they drove up.

They walked through to the parking lot, got in Drake’s car, and Mason was thoughtfully silent during the entire ride to the station.

They parked their car and as they walked toward the main entrance an unobtrusive individual in a gray business suit, whose keen eyes were masked under bushy eyebrows, stepped forward and shook hands with Paul Drake.

Drake said to Mason, “Meet Smitty, Perry. And this is Miss Street, Perry Mason’s confidential secretary.”

Smith shook hands, said, “What numbered locker did you want to look into?”

“FO82,” Mason said.

“Can you tell me why?”

Mason looked the man in the eyes and said, “No.”

Smith grinned, said, “Well, at least that makes it simple. Now, I’ll open that particular locker and look inside, but we’re not going to touch anything that’s in there. Understand?”

“That’s all right,” Mason said. “I want to look, that’s all.”

Smith said, “Wait here a moment. I’ll get the key.”

“They have an office here someplace,” Drake said, as Smith moved away. “Let’s go locate this locker.”

Della Street said, “I can—”

Mason nudged her into silence. “We can look around,” he said, “and get the thing located.”

They walked around the banks of lockers. Della Street, putting her hand on Mason’s arm, exerted an almost imperceptible pressure guiding him to the proper bank.

“Well, here it is, first rattle out of the box,” Mason said, “FO82.”

“The key’s gone,” Drake said. “That means somebody has put a coin in the slot, put something in, taken the key and—”

“Here comes Mr. Smith now,” Della Street said.

Smith said, “Well, I see you folks found it all right. Now, you’ll have to stand back. I have to be sure that you don’t touch anything.”

Mason said, “Mr. Smith, I wonder if you can tell me how these things work. I observe you have a notice on these lockers stating that the storage is only for twenty-four hours and that at the end of that time articles left in the lockers will be removed. Now, how do you measure that twenty-four hours in time?”