Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Daring Divorcee

“All right.” Mason sighed. “Get the letters. I know what that means, however. You’ll bring in a stack of mail eighteen inches high, get the two urgent letters off the top and then tell me I really should run through the rest of the correspondence.”

Della Street smiled, left the office, and a few moments later was back, carrying a woman’s black handbag.

“What’s this?” Mason asked.

“This,” she said, “is something .”

“Shoot,” Mason said.

“I went to the mail file back in the stenographic office, and in coming back through the reception room noticed this bag in back of the big chair by the door. I asked Gertie if it was hers and she said no, she hadn’t seen it before. I asked her who had been in the office carrying a handbag and after a few moments she decided it must have been this mysterious woman who called during the noon hour. The bag was right by the chair she had been occupying.”

Mason extended his hand and Della Street gave him the purse.

“Well,” Mason said thoughtfully, “that’s rather odd. She said she was going out for a few minutes, that she felt she was in some danger, then she didn’t come back and it turns out she left her handbag. Of course, we don’t know it’s hers.”

“Think we should look in it?” Della Street asked. “It’s heavy enough, it could be full of gold coin.”

Mason regarded the exterior of the bag thoughtfully, then said, “I think I’ll open it and see if there’s a name and address, Della.”

The lawyer opened the bag, started to reach in, then jerked his hand back.

“What is it?” Della Street asked.

Mason hesitated a moment, then taking a handkerchief from his pocket wrapped it over his fingers, reached in the handbag and pulled out a blued steel .38-caliber revolver.

“Well, what do you know!” Della Street exclaimed.

Mason, still holding the handkerchief so that he would leave no fingerprints, swung the cylinder out and said, “Four loaded shells, two empty cartridge cases. Thirty-eight caliber. Smith & Wesson revolver.”

Mason sniffed the end of the barrel and said, “And apparently it has been discharged rather recently.”

Being careful to swing the cylinder back so that the cylinder was in exactly the same position it had been, Mason placed the weapon on the blotter of his desk and said, “Now I guess we’ll take an inventory, Della.”

Mason regarded the interior of the bag speculatively, then said, “I see a card case in here, Della. Let’s take a look at that.”

Mason took out the card case, opened it and brought out an assortment of cards.

“Nevada driving license,” Mason said. “Adelle Sterling Hastings. 721 Northwest Firston Avenue, Las Vegas, Nevada... Now then, here’s a credit card. Mrs. Garvin S. Hastings, 692 Weatherby Boulevard, Los Angeles. And here’s a California driving license to Adelle Sterling Hastings, 692 Weatherby Boulevard, Los Angeles.

“Here are quite a few other cards. Membership in the Automobile Club of Southern California as Mrs. Garvin S. Hastings; membership card in a yacht club at Balboa Beach, and three or four credit cards.

“There’s a coin purse in here,” Mason said, “which seems to be pretty well filled.”

Della Street looked up from her notes. “Do you think it’s all right to go through everything in the handbag?”

Mason said, “It looks very much as if the gun might have been used in a crime, and by leaving the handbag here in the office an attempt is being made to drag me into a case which I may not want to have anything to do with.

“It’s not natural for a woman to walk away and leave her purse in someone’s office. Unless something has happened to our noonday visitor, I’m beginning to think her leaving the handbag here in the office was a very carefully planned maneuver. If so, I want to find out a lot more about the person who left it.”

Mason picked up the coin purse, opened it and said, “Well, what do you know?”

Della looked up from her notes.

“Hundred-dollar bills,” Mason said. “Fifty-dollar bills. Here’s one thousand — fifteen hundred — two thousand — three thousand dollars in big bills, and let’s see, twenty — forty — sixty — eighty — ninety — a hundred-a hundred and five — a hundred and ten-a hundred and fifteen dollars in smaller denominations, and some silver amounting to... two dollars and forty-three cents.

“Well, Della, our visitor seems to have been financially able to pay a retainer fee.”

“Why the past tense?” Della asked.

“Because I don’t know whether we’re ever going to see her again. You have to admit that any woman who would walk away from a purse with this much money in it and forget all about it must have a very, very short memory. She might even forget what she had used a gun for.

“Now let’s see, here’s a compact, lipstick, a half-empty pack of cigarettes — here’s a key container— Now, that’s a peculiar thing, Della. This key container at one time had quite a collection of keys in it. Now there’s only one left. You can see where the keys which had been carried in it have left marks on the leather. Now it’s down to just one key... However, here’s another key container that has half a dozen keys in it, and—”

The telephone rang.

Della answered it, said, “Just a moment, who’s calling, please?”

She listened a moment, then placed her hand over the transmitter, turned to Mason and said, “A Mr. Huntley L. Banner, an attorney, says he wants to talk with you about the Hastings’ case.”

Mason’s eyes went from the purse to the gun on the desk. For a moment he hesitated, then nodded, picked up his phone and said, “Yes, Mr. Banner. This is Mason speaking.”

The man’s voice said, “I’m attorney for Garvin S. Hastings, and I understand you’re representing his wife in connection with the property settlement.”

“May I ask what gave you that impression?” Mason asked.

“Aren’t you?” Banner asked.

Mason laughed and said, “In legal parlance, Mr. Banner, I’m afraid you’re avoiding the question. Before I can answer your question I’d like to know just what basis you have for stating that I am representing Mrs. Hastings.”

“Well, she told me that you would be representing her.”

“May I ask when?”

“Shortly before noon.”

“You were talking with her?”

“She talked with my secretary on the telephone.”

Mason said cautiously, “I was out of my office when Mrs. Hastings called to see me. She didn’t wait. At the moment I don’t have any authority to represent her.”

“Well,” Banner said, “she’ll be in to see you again. There’s no question that you’re her choice for an attorney. You might bear in mind that as far as a settlement is concerned she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. All of Hastings’ property is separate property. As far as the divorce is concerned, my client has been most co-operative — as far as one can go in such matters without collusion. I think you’ll understand what I mean.

“Of course, Hastings doesn’t want to see her left without a penny, but I think perhaps she has some exalted ideas in regard to a property settlement. It might be a good thing if she understood right at the start that she isn’t going to feather her nest at the expense of my client.”

“Isn’t there any community property?” Mason asked.

“Not worth mentioning. Of course we’ll make some sort of a settlement. In fact we’ll make a generous settlement.”

“Would you care to outline your proposition?” Mason asked.

“Not over the telephone,” Banner said.

“Where’s your office?” Mason asked.

“In the Grayfrier Building.”