Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Spurious Spinster

“Good idea,” Mason said.

“It’s working out all right for me,” the man told him. “Of course, I have a service station here. Let me fill up that gas tank and you’ll be ready to roll.”

While the gas tank was being filled, Mason crossed over to the telephone booth and called Paul Drake.

“Paul,” he said, “I’ve got a car I want examined very, very carefully by an expert. I want someone who knows his way around to look it over with a magnifying glass.”

“For what?”

“Bloodstains, fingerprints, everything.”

“Well,” Drake said somewhat wearily, “there’s a technician who works in the police laboratory who occasionally does some work for me. He’ll probably be in bed at this time of the night. I’ll have to get him up if you want him.”

“He’ll keep his mouth shut?”

“He’ll keep his mouth shut.”

“He’ll get up for you?”

“Not for me — for about fifty bucks.”

“And work a large part of the night?”

“And work a large part of the night.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Call him and then be waiting down on the sidewalk for me. I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive out there.”

“How soon?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll try and get things lined up,” Drake said. “I’ll be on the sidewalk. Anybody going to get any sleep tonight?”

“Not that I know of,” Mason said. “Found anything on Amelia Corning yet?”

“Yes, we’ve got a lead. A fellow from the porter’s office was paid twenty-five dollars to take Miss Corning down in the freight elevator in her wheelchair. She said she wanted to get out without anyone knowing it, said she had a little checking up to do.”

“What time, Paul?”

“Six-thirty.”

“That figures,” Mason said.

“What does?”

“She had an appointment with me at seven-thirty and she’s very punctual. She could have figured on getting back by seven-thirty.”

“That’s right. She did. She made arrangements with this chap who operates the freight elevator so that he would be standing by in the alley, near the freight entrance, at exactly seven-twenty so he could pick her up and take her back up to her floor and she could get into her room.”

“That’s right. The fellow was there for all of ten minutes. She didn’t show up.”

“And she left at six-thirty?”

“Right about that time. It could have been a few minutes earlier. The man says it could have been six twenty-five.”

“Has he told his story to the police?”

“The police haven’t asked him yet. They don’t seem at all concerned — as yet. Our men saw no sign of police interest. Miss Corning’s sister seems to be holding down the fort and clamping a lid on any undue interest in Amelia’s comings and goings.”

“That’s good,” Mason said. “We’re evidently one jump ahead of the police. See what you can do about checking with taxicabs who usually stand there at the Arthenium Hotel and—”

“That’s already been done,” Drake said. “All of the taxicabs that stand there come in and take their position in line. They pull in to the rear of the line and then the fellow in front answers the doorman’s signal. If the doorman isn’t there, they’ll pick up a passenger at the hotel and of course if the passenger walks up to the head of the line and gets in a cab, the cabby has no alternative but to take him. Ordinarily, however, they work with the doorman. In that way the doorman gets a tip for calling the cab and he’s nice to the cab drivers and everything works out okay.”

“And how about a cab being called around to the alleyway?”

“It would have had to have been on a telephone call,” Drake said. “I’ve checked all the cab companies and there wasn’t any call to have a cab there at that time. Therefore, it must have been a private car.”

“It could hardly have been a private car,” Mason said.

“It must have been.”

“All right,” the lawyer told him. “I’ll come down there. I want this car checked for fingerprints and I want it checked for any and all kinds of evidence: a regular police check.”

“That’s going to take time.”

“We’ve got time.”

“I was afraid of that,” Drake said, and yawned into the telephone.

“Get your man up out of bed,” Mason said. “I’ll be there, and be sure you’re wearing gloves when I pick you up.”

The lawyer drove the rented car around to his office building, picked up Paul Drake, who was standing on the curb. Drake gave directions and they drove out to the residential section, turned into a driveway and into an open garage.

“Meet Myrton Abert,” Drake said. “He’s an expert connected with the police laboratory.”

“I want a check on this car,” Mason said, “and I don’t want anybody to know about it.”

“You don’t want anybody not to know about it any more than I do,” Abert said. “It isn’t hot, is it?”

“Not in the sense you mean. It’s a rented car. I just want to know who’s been driving it before all of the fingerprints are erased.”

“Now suppose the police want the same thing?” Abert asked.

“Then you give them the information,” Mason said.

“If I do that, I’ll have to use Scotch tape and lift the fingerprints.”

“Go ahead and lift them, but be sure you don’t leave any indication prints have been lifted from the car.”

“I don’t see what you’re gaining by this,” Abert said.

Mason said, “Sometimes the police don’t share information with me. If I share information with them, I’ll at least be abreast of the police.”

Abert thought it over, grinned, said, “Okay, I’ve got a fellow corning to assist me. He ought to be here any minute now. I had to get him up out of bed.”

Abert closed the garage door, turned on bright lights, and went to work.

It was breaking daylight when Abert said, “All right, Mr. Mason, there aren’t any bloodstains in the car. There are quite a few smudged fingerprints. There are twenty-three legible fingerprints on the doors, the back of the rearview mirror and the side mirror. I’ve lifted those with Scotch tape. Now what do we do?”

“How are you on comparing fingerprints?” Mason asked.

“Pretty good.”

Mason said, “I want duplicates of those prints.”

“Then I’ll have to photograph the lifted prints.”

“How long will that take?”

“Not too long to make the photographs, but to get them developed and printed is going to be something else.”

“All right,” Mason said. “You want to protect yourself. You take the photographs and give me the original lifts. You can develop the photographs at your leisure. They’ll give you protection.”

Abert thought it over for a while, then said, “That would be worth a little more money, Mr. Mason. It’s a little more work than I’d figured on.”

Mason handed him a twenty-dollar bill.

“Will that cover the added costs?”

“That will cover it.”

“Let’s go,” Mason said.

Abert walked over to a locker, took out a fingerprint camera, put the lifts on a dark surface, fitted the fingerprint camera over the lifts and within a few minutes had all of the prints photographed.

“That’s all there is to it?” Mason asked.

“That’s all.”

“Okay,” the lawyer told him. “I’m on my way.”

“Say, this is a rental car, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”

“You understand I’ve got to protect myself in this thing,” Abert said. “So far, this is only a private deal. But I’ve got the license of the car and all that and—”

“Sure,” Mason said. “I don’t want you to do anything that’s going to get you in bad. You have a right to do outside work on your own time.”