Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Spurious Spinster

“She must have taken that box,” Sue Fisher said in a dismayed whisper.

“She certainly could have,” Mason said. “Now then, Miss Fisher, I want you to go home. I want you to try not to worry. In the event there are any developments of any nature that have any bearing on the case, I want you to call the Drake Detective Agency and leave a message.”

Mason arose, put his hand on her arm, led her gently to the door. “You can get home all right?”

She said, “Of course. All I do is get on a bus, then walk three blocks, and I’m home.”

“Three blocks?” Mason asked.

She nodded.

“How much money do you have?”

“Oh, I have some money left over from what Miss Corning gave me. Did you want a retainer?”

“No,” Mason said. “I want you to treat yourself to a taxicab. Have it deposit you right at the door of your apartment. Don’t leave your apartment at night under any circumstances until after you have called Paul Drake and cleared with him.”

The lawyer walked down the corridor with her to the elevators. After she had taken the elevator, he turned back to Paul Drake’s office. There was no longer any reassuring smile on his face as he faced the detective.

“Okay, Paul,” he said, “keep your men on at the depot, but get some additional men down at the airport. Keep them there.”

Drake frowned. “You mean you expect Miss Corning to show up down there?”

Mason nodded.

“You think she took a cab to the depot, then detoured back to the airport, and is leaving...?”

“Hell, no,” Mason said. “I think she’s corning .”

It took a moment for the significance of what Mason said to dawn on the detective. Then he said, “Oh-oh! What a mess this is going to be!”

Mason said, “Apparently the route she’ll use is to fly to Miami, then take a plane from Miami here. That’s the route this other woman claimed she took, so that’s probably the route Miss Corning is going to take. She’ll clear with Immigration and Customs at Miami, then come on through here.

“You get men to cover the airport and let me know the minute she arrives — and I mean the minute she arrives here — no matter what hour of the day or night. I don’t want her to have an opportunity to get near a telephone or do anything before I see her. Have one of your men approach her, tell her that he’s been assigned to meet her. He doesn’t need to say whether it’s the company that has given him the instructions. He can just make the general statement that he’s been assigned to meet her. He can say he’ll escort her to the hotel. Then have him get me on the phone right away.”

“You’ll go to the airport?” Drake asked.

“There won’t be time,” Mason said. “I’ll be waiting at the Arthenium Hotel when she arrives.”

“And what about Endicott Campbell?”

“Endicott Campbell is making this a battle of wits,” Mason said. “If he can anticipate what’s going to happen he can meet us on an equal footing. Otherwise, I’m going to talk with her first.”

“And Susan Fisher?” Drake asked.

“Within two hours after Miss Corning shows up,” Mason said, “Sue Fisher will be arrested for embezzlement of probably as much as a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. She’ll be charged with having spirited away the books and vouchers of the corporation so that there can’t be any actual audit, and be in trouble up to her neck.”

Drake thought that over for a minute, then lugubriously shook his head. “And even you can’t think up any defense that’ll get her out of that trap,” he said.

“Don’t be too sure, Paul,” Mason told him. “ You start running interference and I’ll carry the ball. But I want some damn good interference. Now get started.”

Sunday morning at eleven-thirty Mason’s unlisted phone rang and Paul Drake’s voice came over the wire.

“Okay, Perry, you win.”

“She’s here?”

“At the airport. My man’s getting things all lined up for her and he’s going to take her to the Arthenium in an agency car.”

“Okay, Paul, thanks,” Mason said. “I’m on my way.”

“You want me there?”

“No. Ring up Della’s apartment, ask her to get there as fast as she can. Tell her to bring a notebook and her feminine charm. Something seems to tell me this woman may be a little suspicious of men, but Della should be able to win her over. At least she can try.”

“Okay,” Drake said. “I’ll wish you luck, Perry.”

“I’ll need it,” the lawyer said.

Mason called Susan Fisher’s apartment. “I’m just alerting you,” he said.

“For what?”

“To be ready for action.”

“What sort of action?”

“I may want you to go someplace.”

“All right,” she told him, “I’ll be ready. Anything you say, Mr. Mason.”

“Keep near the telephone and be dressed to go out,” Mason said, and hung up. He got his car from the garage, drove to the Arthenium Hotel and waited for fifteen minutes before Drake’s detective showed up solicitously squiring an angular woman in a wheelchair, a woman who wore glasses with large blue lenses, who had high cheekbones, a prominent jaw, and a firm mouth.

Mason approached the woman. “Miss Corning?” he asked.

She raised her head and moved it from side to side, peering from behind the heavy blue glasses, trying to get some picture of the man whose voice she had heard.

Then, after a moment, she answered shortly, “I’m Miss Corning. What is it you want?”

“I’m Perry Mason,” the lawyer said. “I’m an attorney and I want to talk with you on a matter of the greatest importance, a matter concerning your holdings here. I think it’s quite important that you hear what I have to say before you get in touch with anyone.”

She hesitated a moment, then said, “Very well, I’ll be glad to hear what you have to say, Mr. Mason. I believe a suite has been arranged for me here. At least that’s the information I’ve been given by wire.”

“I understand your company is expecting you,” Mason said.

“Well, they did a better job of it than I thought they could. But I still don’t know how they found out when I was corning. I am not scheduled to appear officially until tomorrow. However, the trip up is a long, hard one and I decided I’d get here a day early, just stretch my weary bones out, and rest.”

Drake’s operative, who had approached the desk, came over to the wheelchair with a registration card and the desk clerk.

The operative glanced significantly at Mason and said, “The hotel wants Miss Corning’s personal signature on the registration card.”

“Certainly,” Mason said.

Miss Corning stretched out a bony hand, reached for the card which the clerk was handing her, but her fingers were some six or eight inches over the card.

The clerk tactfully withdrew the card, then pushed it right into her fingers.

“Just sign here,” the clerk said.

“Where?” Miss Corning asked, holding the pen.

“Right here.” The clerk put his hand over hers, touched the pen to the paper, and the woman immediately wrote “Amelia Corning” in an angular, cramped but legible handwriting.

A bellboy said, “Right this way, Miss Corning.”

“You only have the two suitcases and a handbag?” Mason asked.

“Good heavens, how much did you expect? Do you know what excess baggage costs on those planes corning up from South America? It’s highway robbery... I wish now I’d only brought the one bag... of course, comfort is something, but, after all, a dollar’s a dollar. Now, let’s go up and find out what it is you want, Mr... er...”