Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Spurious Spinster

“Now just a minute,” Mason interposed. “This is criminal conspiracy, grand larceny, and treason.”

“No such thing,” Miss Corning said. “It’s a business proposition and there’s no treason involved because I don’t owe you any loyalty and she wouldn’t even consider such a proposition. Would you, Della?”

“I’m afraid not,” Della Street said, laughing.

“Well, let’s get down to business. Now then, young lady... what’s your name — Fisher?”

“That’s right, Susan Fisher.”

“How old are you, Susan?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Good figure?”

Susan laughed in an embarrassed manner and Della Street said, “Very good, Miss Corning.”

“In love?” Miss Corning asked.

“Not at the moment.”

“How long have you been working in the office there?”

“More than a year.”

“Did you start in as Mr. Campbell’s secretary?”

“No. I started in as a stenographer.”

“He picked you out to become his secretary?”

“Yes.”

“How good are you at typing?”

“I’m quite good.”

“Shorthand?”

“I think I’m rather good.”

“Did Mr. Campbell pick you out because of your ability or because of your figure?”

Susan Fisher laughed in an embarrassed manner.

“Go ahead,” Miss Corning said, “answer the question.”

“Frankly, Miss Corning, I think he picked me out because of my figure. But after he had tried out my shorthand and typing, I think he kept me because of my ability.”

“Ever make passes at you?”

Susan hesitated, then said, quietly, “Yes.”

“Ever get anywhere?”

“No.”

“What kind of passes?”

“Just the ordinary kind, just sort of exploring to see where the ‘No Trespassing’ signs were.”

“Can’t blame him for that,” Miss Corning said. “Any normal man will do that with a good-looking girl who’s working with him. All right now, is Mr. Campbell crooked or not?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t tell you.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Miss Corning, and I wish I did. There are some things going on there that bother me very much. I’m not in the auditing department. I simply type up statements and—”

“You ran an adding machine?”

“Oh, yes.”

“All right, go on. You type up statements and then what?”

“Well, I get the statements primarily from the auditing department or Mr. Campbell gives me the statements... I will say this, the business is so departmentalized that, frankly, I doubt if anyone other than Mr. Campbell has a general comprehensive picture of what goes on. And I’ve been concerned about this Mojave Monarch mine.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing,” Susan said, “I went out there to Mojave on a drive. I didn’t have any idea of looking at the mine; in fact, I’d forgotten all about the mine being in that part of the country. I was just out there driving around and I saw a sign on a road, a rather weather-beaten piece of wood nailed to a stake. It said on this sign, ‘Mojave Monarch.’ So I turned in there just out of curiosity.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found a mine, but there certainly was no one working there. I went to one of the service stations and asked if there was any other Mojave Monarch around there and the service station man said he’d never heard of any, that the only Mojave Monarch he knew had been closed ever since one of the veins had faulted out.”

“The monthly reports show that the mine is operating, but operating at a heavy loss,” Miss Corning said.

“I’m quite familiar with the monthly reports,” Susan Fisher said. “I do the typing.”

“But you don’t think the mine is working?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then if the reports are false, Mr. Campbell is crooked?”

“I wouldn’t say that. The reports come in from a manager in Mojave and—”

“Endicott Campbell has never been out to Mojave to look the mine over?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, if he’s going to manage my business he should know what’s going on in a mine that’s almost in his back yard.”

Susan Fisher said nothing.

“Well,” Miss Corning snapped, “say something! Should he or shouldn’t he?”

Susan said, “Mr. Campbell is very, very busy around the office. He’s making out reports and correlating affairs and he’s had quite a bit of trouble with the income-tax people. Frankly, I don’t think he’s ever gone to Mojave. I think he feels the mine is somewhat out of his jurisdiction. I don’t know where he—”

The door opened and Endicott Campbell, standing in the doorway, said, “Who says I’ve never gone to Mojave? What’s going on here? What are you folks trying to do, get behind my back and tear my business reputation to shreds?”

“I suppose,” Miss Corning said, “that irate, rasping voice belongs to my manager, Endicott Campbell. Come in, Mr. Campbell, and sit down. It’s customary to knock before entering.”

“I don’t care whether it’s customary or not,” Campbell said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, and, despite the fact that I’m working for you, Miss Corning, I resent the idea of you corning here and gathering my employees around you to discuss the efficiency of my management before you have even taken the matter up with me or let me know that you were here.”

“Now just a minute, Campbell,” Mason said. “We tried to get in touch with you on the telephone.”

“How did you know Miss Corning was here?” Campbell demanded.

“I anticipated her arrival,” Mason said.

“She wasn’t due until tomorrow.”

“I know she wasn’t,” Mason told him, “but in case you want to know, I had men watching the airport so that we could pick her up on her arrival. That was something that you could have done if you’d wanted to — or if you’d thought of it.”

“I’m afraid my mind doesn’t work in these somewhat devious channels,” Campbell said. And then to Miss Corning, “I’m sorry, Miss Corning, that I’m acting in this manner, but, frankly, I’m angry.”

“Go ahead, go ahead,” Miss Corning said. “Get angry. I like to hear two men fight.”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of Mr. Mason homing in on this thing and trying to get around behind my back.”

“Now, just a minute,” Mason told him. “In the first place, I don’t give a damn whether you like it or not. In the second place, nobody is going behind your back. We’re out in front of you and scooping up the ball that you’d fumbled. Now, just remember one thing. I’m representing Susan Fisher. She’s my client. I have an idea that you’re intending to make her some sort of a football that you can kick around in order to disguise your own shortcornings. I don’t intend to let you do it. I wanted Miss Corning to know the facts as they were before you had a chance to garble them.”

“Well,” Campbell said, “I would have liked to have had Miss Corning know the facts as they were before you got to her and garbled them.”

“We’re talking facts,” Mason said.

“You were talking about the intimate affairs of the company.”

“We were answering Miss Corning’s questions about the Mojave Monarch, and I think that perhaps Miss Corning can well ask you about the Mojave Monarch. If you think we’ve garbled the facts, I’d like to hear what you have to say about them.”

“And so would I,” Miss Corning said.

Much of the belligerence left Campbell’s manner. “All right,” he said, “as far as the Mojave Monarch is concerned, the only thing I can say to Miss Corning is that apparently I was victimized by a man who was in charge of the property at Mojave, a man who apparently made false reports to me in person, in writing, and over the telephone.”