Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Spurious Spinster

“Mason,” the lawyer prompted.

“Oh, yes, Mason. All right, I’m not much good at names but I’ll try and remember. You have a nice voice. I think I’m going to like you.”

The lawyer walked beside the wheelchair as they approached the elevators.

Colton C. Bailey, the house detective, who had evidently been alerted by the clerk, appeared on the scene, shook hands with Mason, said quietly, “Introduce me.”

Mason said, “Miss Corning, may I present Mr. Colton Bailey. He’s connected here with the hotel in an executive capacity and if there’s anything you want he’ll be only too glad to try and see that you are accommodated.”

“That’s very nice,” Miss Corning said. “I’ll go up and take a look around at that Presidential Suite. The probabilities are I’ll want to be moved into something more modest. There’s no need for me to be rattling around in a lot of room I don’t need, and those suites cost money.”

“We’ll go up right now and take a look, Miss Corning,” Bailey said. “We want to be certain you’re satisfied.”

The little entourage went up to the Presidential Suite. The bellboy opened the door and Bailey, Mason, and Drake’s operative wheeled Miss Corning into the main room.

She looked around and sniffed. “I’ll bet this costs a hundred dollars a day,” she said.

“A hundred and thirty-five,” Bailey said apologetically.

“All right, I want to move out and get into something smaller.”

“The rental has been arranged, I believe,” Bailey said.

She sniffed. “That’s Endicott Campbell for you. Spending company funds on a luxury that I don’t need, trying to impress me. By the way, where is he?”

Bailey looked at Mason inquiringly.

Mason glanced at his watch and said, “Apparently he hasn’t arrived yet, Miss Corning, but you can probably expect him.”

Bailey said, “Now, Miss Corning, there’s a certain formality that we have to go through on account of security reasons. You’ll probably be wanting to cash checks here at the hotel and we’d like to establish a line of credit. Of course, the financial end of it is all taken care of; all we need is a complete check on identity. I’m wondering if you’d mind letting me see your passport.”

“Humph!” she said. “I haven’t asked you for anything yet except smaller quarters.”

“But,” he said, “if it’s all the same to you, we’d like to see your passport, Miss Corning.”

“Well, of all things!” she said. “I’ve been showing that damn passport... I was hoping that when I got to my own country I wouldn’t need to wear it on my sleeve and keep showing it to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that would ask for it.”

Suddenly she realized how her remark sounded and gave a frosty smile. “Not that you’re Tom or Dick or Harry... or are you?”

“No, Miss Corning,” Bailey said. “I’m Colton. Colton Bailey.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. “I’m glad you took it in good part. I guess my nerves are a little frayed.”

She opened her purse and took out a passport.

Bailey carefully inspected the passport, then nodded to Mason as he returned the passport to Miss Corning.

“Well,” he said, with a voice that plainly showed his relief, “there’s nothing more I can do here, Miss Corning; at least at the moment. I’ll withdraw and leave you and Mr. Mason to talk things over.”

Drake’s operative said, “And I have discharged my duties, Miss Corning. I guess there is nothing else you need of me.”

As they opened the door, Della Street, neatly tailored, calmly efficient, came walking into the room.

She sized up the situation, moved over to the chair and said, “How do you do, Miss Corning? I’m Della Street. I’m Mr. Mason’s executive secretary and Mr. Mason asked me to come here so that I could be of any assistance possible. In case there’s anything that’s in the feminine department I want to do all I can to make you comfortable.”

Miss Corning twisted her head with a distinctive birdlike gesture, tilting it from one side to the other as though hoping to get a better view through the heavy lenses.

“Well, my dear,” she said, “I can’t see you very clearly, but I can see you have a very trim figure and your voice is wonderful. As my eyes get worse, I depend more on my ears. I rely a great deal on voices. I certainly like yours.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much indeed,” Della Street said.

“Not at all. Now, Mr. Mason, you’re a lawyer. If your time isn’t valuable you aren’t a very good lawyer. If you’re a very good lawyer your time is worth a lot of money. Neither of us wants to waste it. So let’s get to the point.”

“Wouldn’t you like to freshen up first?” Mason asked.

“You go right ahead, young man,” she snapped. “You’ll find I’m fresh enough. Now, just what is it you want?”

“It’s not what I want,” Mason said. “It’s something one of my clients wants.”

“Well it’s the same thing,” she told him. “Now, go on. Start talking. Sit down, make yourself comfortable and have that delightful secretary of yours make herself comfortable.”

“You’re all right in the wheelchair?” Della Street asked. “You don’t want to move into a more comfortable chair?”

“I’m all right, right here,” Miss Corning said.

Mason said, “I’m not going to take the time to try to be diplomatic, Miss Corning. In a matter of this sort, I have only one approach and that is to put the cards right on the table.”

“Face up,” Miss Corning said.

“Face up,” Mason said, smiling. “Now, the first thing that I have to tell you, and which may come as something of a shock to you, is that yesterday a woman who claimed to be you appeared at the airport and telephoned the offices of the Corning Mining, Smelting & Investment Company.”

“What!” she exclaimed.

Mason nodded.

“Well, go on,” Miss Corning said. “What happened?”

“There,” Mason said, “we get into the realm of speculation. I can’t tell you exactly what happened. However, I can tell you this much. This woman telephoned the company offices. A young woman by the name of Susan Fisher, who acts as confidential secretary to Endicott Campbell, the manager, and who was called up by Mr. Campbell to get certain things in readiness for your arrival, was working overtime there and answered the telephone.

“Upon being advised that Miss Corning was at the airport, that a telegram had been sent announcing an earlier date of arrival and upon being unable to get in touch with Mr. Campbell, she dashed out to the airport.

“There she found a woman who apparently had a very striking physical resemblance to you seated in a wheelchair, surrounded by baggage bearing the labels of South American hotels and South American airlines. She escorted this woman to this suite of rooms and the woman insisted on going almost immediately to the office in order to check into certain things.”

“What happened?” Miss Corning asked.

“This woman showed a surprising familiarity with the business. She inquired about various details, then she sent Susan Fisher down to buy some suitcases and put certain vouchers and books of account in those suitcases and then vanished. There is a possibility that she took with her a fairly large sum of money from the safe. We can’t be certain about that.”

“Why can’t you be certain about it?”

“Because the origin of that money is shrouded in a certain amount of mystery.”

“All right,” Miss Corning said, “where do you come in?”

“I’m representing Susan Fisher.”

“Does she need an attorney?”

“She may need an attorney.”