Erle Gardner - The Case of the Baited Hook

“Why?”

“Well, because we acted as brokers, and in the highest good faith… I think you should answer Mr. Mason’s question about what happened to that money and assure him that the sale was of treasury stock.”

“I don’t have to assure anyone of anything,” Bolus said. “You wanted fifty thousand dollars’ worth of stock. You got it. I got the money.”

“You individually?” Mason asked. “Or as president of the corporation?”

“I don’t like your damned insinuations,” Bolus said.

“There’s one way of preventing a repetition of them,” Mason pointed out. “Simply answer the question.”

“I think it would be perfectly in order for you to answer Mr. Mason’s question,” Ganten said.

“Well, I don’t,” Bolus snapped.

Loftus stroked the angle of his chin. His eyes shifted from his attorney to the president of the Western Prospecting Company, then over to Mason, and were hastily averted.

Mason said, “Well, I’ll be going. I simply wanted you gentlemen to know where I stood.”

“I don’t think your client is adopting a fair attitude,” Loftus said.

Mason said, “Don’t let my departure interfere with your discussion, gentlemen.”

Loftus arose from his chair, started around his desk, and stopped. “Just what are you trying to do, Mr. Mason?” he asked.

“Protect the interests of my client,” Mason said, “and educate your legal department.” With an inclusive bow, he left the office.

Mason returned to his office in rare good humor.

“Do any good?” Della Street asked.

“I think so,” Mason said. “I’ve got those brokers plenty worried, and their legal department’s running around in circles. By the time they get done stirring things up, we’ll know when Tidings died. The way things are shaping up now, Sergeant Holcomb won’t be able to dig up additional clues and keep them from me.”

“You mean they’ll do the investigating for you?”

“That’s right. They can bring pressure to bear on Holcomb, and make him talk. I can’t.”

She said, “Paul Drake wants you to call. Shall I get him?”

“Uh huh.”

She got Drake on the line. As Mason picked up the receiver, he heard Drake’s voice over the wire, saying hurriedly, “Listen, Perry. A girl went into the Contractor’s Journal with an answer to that ad you placed. From there she went to a beauty parlor and is getting herself all slicked up: shampoo, wave, manicure, massage. I’ve got a man staked out in front of the beauty parlor… Now, if you’d like to get a look at this baby first hand, we’ve got time to run down there and give her the once-over when she comes out.”

“Got your car downstairs, Paul?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “I’ll meet you down in the parking lot. You do the driving. I’ll do the looking.”

He hung up the telephone, said to Della Street, “We’ve got a customer on that Contractor’s Journal ad… Probably the same girl who turned in the last ad. I’m going to go take a look at her.”

“Think she’s got the other half of that ten-thousand-dollar bill?” Della Street asked.

Mason grinned. “I’m getting so I think everyone has it. I’m on my way. If this girl turns out to be Byrl Gailord, we’ll know a lot more in an hour.”

Mason walked rapidly down the corridor, took the elevator, and found Paul Drake seated in his automobile, waiting in front of the entrance. Mason climbed in.

“Think you’ll know this girl when you see her, Perry?” Drake asked.

“Uh huh,” Mason said. “—I hope so, and I’m afraid so.”

“Who is she, Perry?”

“My client,” Mason said.

Drake looked at him in surprise. “Don’t you know your own clients?”

Mason grinned. “I have a wide practice.”

Drake said, “Perry, this case keeps getting goofier and goofier. Why should you want to shadow your own client?”

“Just to give you boys a job, Paul. You’ve had a lot of hard cases, so I thought I’d give you an easy one.”

Mason remained thoughtfully silent while Drake piloted the car through traffic. A signal turned against them, and Drake, stopping the car, said, “It’s a couple of blocks farther on. We may not be able to find a parking space.”

“We can roost in front of a fire plug,” Mason said. “I want to get a good look at this girl, but I don’t want her to see me… Got a pair of dark glasses, Paul?”

“Yeah. In the glove compartment… Dark glasses are as near as we come to using disguises — and usually they’re all that’s necessary.”

The signal changed, and Drake eased the car into gear. “Got a description of her?” Mason asked.

“Not too much to go on,” Drake said, “just what I picked up over the telephone. The operative was calling from a cigar stand across the street from the beauty parlor. She has a swell figure, is around twenty-eight, a brunette with large, dark eyes.”

Mason frowned thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t it fit?” Drake asked.

“It depends on the eyes,” Mason said. “The girl I have in mind has dark eyes, but I wouldn’t pick them as being a particularly noticeable feature.”

“This operative is young and impressionable,” Drake said. “He made her sound like a follies’ beauty on the loose.”

He turned the car to the left, and said, “There’s the stake-out — this car right ahead. Have to hand it to that boy. He’s managed to take up two parking spaces so we can squeeze in behind.”

“That’s swell,” Mason said.

Drake pressed lightly on the horn button, and the operative looked behind, nodded, started his motor, and pulled his car forward until its bumper was touching that of the car ahead. Drake managed to work his own car into the space behind. “Want to talk with him?” he asked.

Mason nodded.

They got out and walked across to the agency car.

“Think she’ll be out pretty quick now,” the operative said.

“You tailed her here from the Contractor’s Journal office?” Mason asked.

“Yeah. It’s only three or four blocks. She evidently had an appointment at the beauty parlor. I think the girl in the beauty parlor knows her. But I haven’t tried as yet to get the address or any information in there.”

“You can do that after she leaves,” Mason said. “—No, wait a minute. I don’t want her to think anyone’s trailing her. We’ll wait and keep that beauty parlor as an ace up our sleeve.”

“Okay. You want me to stay here?”

“Yes. You can follow along in the car. I’ll get out and try to follow her on foot. If she gives me the slip, you carry on from there, and find out where she goes.”

“That’ll be swell. She may duck into a department store or something. A man’s lost trying to follow a pedestrian in an automobile when they pull a stunt like that.”

Mason said, “Okay. Stay on the job. How’s she dressed?”

“Dark woolen dress with a red fox jacket and one of those good-looking little hats.”

“Easy on the eyes?” Mason asked.

“Gosh, I’ll say. She’s a beauty. I could go for that number in a big way.”

Drake winked at Mason.

“Okay. We’ll go back and wait in our car,” Mason said. “You tag along and see what you can do.”

Mason and Drake walked back to sit in Drake’s car while they waited.

“You got some ideas on the time of Tidings’ death, Perry?” Drake asked.

“I think I have.”

“What are they?”

Mason said, “I don’t know. The thing doesn’t make sense… Not the way Homicide has it figured out.”

“How do they have it figured out?”

“Holcomb figured it two ways. Once he figured that Tidings was shot in the bungalow, and once he figured he was shot in the automobile and the body dragged into the bungalow.”