Erle Gardner - The Case of the Haunted Husband

A nurse, crisply efficient in starched blue and white, swung the door back. Max Olger came marching into the room with little springy steps, his eyes beaming over the top of his half spectacles. “Well, well, well... so this is my little runaway!”

“This is it,” Stephane announced.

“How are you? You are not permanently injured? You are not...”

She said, “I feel absolutely all right. I am a little stiff and sore. I have some black-and-blue places on me and a little stitching, but I could leave the hospital right now as far as that is concerned.”

“Then why are you staying here?”

“A little prescription written by the police,” she said. “Uncle Max, this is Perry Mason, the lawyer — my lawyer.”

“Mason,” Max Olger said, shot forth his right hand, and let his alert, twinkling eyes study the lawyer over the top of the chopped-off spectacles.

Mason shook hands with the nervous little man.

“Don’t want to be rude,” Max Olger said, “but you are relieved of your responsibilities right now, Mr. Mason. Send in a bill. I shall make out a cheque.”

“Uncle Max!” Stephane exclaimed.

“What’s the idea?” Mason asked.

“If you want to be frank, I will be frank, Mr. Mason, brutally frank. Stephane is going to have the best money can buy. I know something about lawyers. The lawyer a penniless girl can get...”

“Uncle Max, stop! You don’t know. You don’t understand.”

“I understand quite well, Stephane. I am taking charge. You are too precious to permit any more headstrong...”

“Uncle Max, Mr. Mason is famous. He is the highest-priced lawyer in this part of the state.”

Max Olger put his head slightly on one side, peered up at Mason, said, “Humph,” walked over to the telephone, picked it up, and said, “This is Max Olger. I will pay all charges. Rush me through a telephone call to Chicago, law firm of Pitcairn, Roxy and Hungerford, and... no, wait a minute. The office will be closed. Hadn’t thought of that. Get Alexander Pitcairn... Yes, Mr. Pitcairn of that firm at his residence... No one else if he is out.”

He dropped the receiver into place.

Stephane Claire said to Mason, “You will just have to put up with this, Mr. Mason. It takes more energy to argue with him than it does to let him go and put up with the things he does. You won’t mind, will you?”

Mason sat down again on the foot of the bed. “Not at all,” he said, grinning across at her uncle. “What are you going to do, Olger? Get your own attorney to come out here and handle it?”

“Probably. I don’t know how serious it is, but I don’t propose to let Stephane get railroaded.”

“That would be tough on her,” Mason agreed.

“I appreciate what you have done. Don’t misunderstand me. I won’t be niggardly on fees.”

Mason grinned. “Neither will I.”

The little man snapped his head around, “Humph,” he retorted. “You can’t slip anything over on me, Mason, I warn you.”

“Nor you on me. I happen to have taken too much of an interest in this case to let it get butchered by some corporation lawyer.”

Olger said, “I happen to be paying the bills and...”

“You are not paying my bill.”

“No?... Huh... Who is?”

“The man who was driving the car,” Mason said, “... when I find him.”

Olger’s eyes blinked rapidly as he sized Mason up. “You may have something to you at that,” he said. “I will ask Pitcairn. I...”

The telephone rang. Olger lifted the receiver. “Hello, Pitcairn. That’s good service. Told you I might want you to come out. Can’t tell yet. There is a lawyer on the job, man named Mason, Perry Mason, says he won’t get off. How do I make him let loose? Stephane won’t help me. Can’t count on her. She always was headstrong. She... What is that?... You are certain?... Well, that is different... What do you mean? Midnight. It is only ten o’clock... Oh, that’s right. I forgot. All right, send me a bill for the call. Good-bye.”

He snapped the receiver into place, beamed across at Mason, and said, “Pitcairn knows about you, says you are considered one of the best cross-examiners in the country. Says you would make a fortune if you would quit this criminal work and go in for a decent practice.”

“Thank you,” Mason said dryly, “I don’t care for the decent practice, as Mr. Pitcairn calls it.”

“Oh, he didn’t use exactly those words. That was his idea.”

“Well, I don’t care for the idea.”

“All right, every man to his taste. Go ahead, get started. You will want expense money. I have got plenty. Call on me for anything you want. But itemize your expense accounts, Mr. Mason. I want them itemized. You understand that?”

“Mason said, “I am not much of a book-keeper. I...”

“Well, you will have to learn then. I want it itemized, Mr. Mason. I am sorry to insist, but that’s fair. That’s...”

Stephane Claire said, with what was almost a groan, “There you are, Mr. Mason. Imagine living with that twenty-four hours a day. He squeezes the individuality out of you like apples in a cider press.”

“Don’t do anything of the sort,” Max Olger snapped. “What do you mean, changing your name, Stephane? Had me fooled until I saw your picture. Good photograph. What the devil do you mean taking a job as hatcheck girl in a San Francisco night spot?”

“That’s tame compared to some of the things I have done.”

“Humph. Should have kept that out of the paper anyway. Looks like the devil. Max Olger’s niece a hatcheck girl! Humph!”

“Where is Jacks?” she asked.

His head tilted quickly to one side as he stared at her. “How should I know?”

“When did you see him last?” she asked with a significant side glance at the lawyer.

“Well now, let us see. I got all mixed up on time. Can’t remember the difference between...” He broke off, looked quickly at Mason, pursed his lips, said, “Oh, I suppose he told you. Come to think of it, you weren’t surprised to see me. Yes, he heard your name mentioned. Naturally, being your lawyer, he would have stuck around and listened. I remember seeing him there now... All right. Jacks is outside, waiting. He thought it would be better for you and me to have our chat before he came in.”

“Did he reach that decision all at once, or a little at a time?”

“Now, Stephane, don’t you go making fun of Jacks. He is thinking of your own good. He is cautious.”

“He is a conservative, petrified pelican.”

“Well, he isn’t rushing in where angels fear to tread, and he doesn’t go jumping around in the dark. But he is a mighty fine boy, well mannered, good foundation, good bringing up, good character, steady, dependable, reliable. The sort of investment that’s proof against inflation.”

“Well, he is here,” Stephane Claire said. “I may as well see him. Go on down and bring him up. Wait ten minutes, though. I want to talk with Mr. Mason.”

Olger’s eyes became instantly suspicious. “Something black about this case you are trying to keep away from me? Don’t do it. I shall hire detectives. I shall ferret out anything...”

“No,” she said. “Mr. Mason’s time is valuable. He is tired. He has done a lot for me, and I want to have this Conference with him and get it over so he can go home.”

“I won’t interfere. I shall efface myself.”

She laughed. “You efface yourself! Go on out and tell Jacks I want to see him — but don’t make it too cordial.”

“He has been upset all the way out here,” Olger said. “We came by plane and...”

“Yes, I know.”

“You can’t understand how upset that boy was when he thought something had happened to you... And when you left, Stephane, you never saw anyone as broken up as that boy. He...”