Erle Gardner - The Case of the Baited Hook

“I’m flattered,” Mason murmured.

She looked up at his profile, and said, “My, I’d certainly hate to have you cross-examine me.”

“And I,” Mason said, “would hate to have to cross-examine you. Anyone who can avoid questions as well as you would make a deadly witness.”

“Why? What question was I avoiding?”

“You haven’t told me your name — as yet.”

She laughed and said, “That’s right. I haven’t. I’m not even certain that I will, Mr. Mason… Rather clever, those detectives, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“One of them evidently stayed at the entrance where I went in. The other’s circling the block. Here he comes now. Shall we try to ditch him, or string him along?”

Mason said, “Oh, let’s string him along. They’re getting paid by the day, and we may as well give him a break. I hope my entering into the picture doesn’t cause complications.”

“Why? Why should it?”

“Oh,” he said, “you don’t know to whom they’re reporting, and, of course, they don’t know why I was following you. As a result, their reports will read, ‘Shortly after subject left beauty parlor, Perry Mason started to follow. After observing that coast was apparently clear, Mason contacted subject, and they departed arm in arm, talking earnestly.’ ”

She frowned and said, “That would complicate things. I wouldn’t want — well, you know. It looks rather peculiar when you mention it that way.”

“That’s undoubtedly the way a detective would write it up in his report,” Mason said.

“Were you following me all the way from the beauty parlor?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t spot you until the drugstore,” she said. “What do you want with me?”

“I’d like to know who you are,” Mason said.

“Suppose I don’t tell you?”

“Then it will probably take me all of half an hour to find out.”

She said, “Don’t be silly, Mr. Mason. There are a dozen ways I could ditch you.”

Mason said, “You wouldn’t stoop so low as to try the rest-room trick on me, would you? That’s hardly sporting.”

“Good heavens, no!” she said. “It’s so obvious… And then I’m not entirely certain about you. I’m not even certain you’d stop at the rest-room door. You look as though you’d call any ordinary bet — perhaps raise it. You’re capable of it.”

“Well then, why not be a good scout and tell me.”

“Because that’s the one thing I don’t want you to know. I’m not quite ready for you to know.”

“When will you be ready?”

“When I know why you were following and what led you to me in the first place. I also want to know whether you know anything about those detectives who were trailing me in the automobiles. In other words, Mr. Mason, I seem to have achieved a very sudden and flattering popularity. To be shadowed by one detective is bad enough. To have two detectives on the job is disconcerting, and then to look back and see the city’s most famous attorney taking an unusual interest in my activities is enough to run my pulse up in the hundreds.”

“Are you,” Mason asked, “going to tell me who you are?”

She turned then to face him. “No,” she said, “and I’m not going to let you follow me. I’m warning you, Mr. Mason, that I want very much to be left alone… Now then, suppose we shake hands and part friends. I’ll stand here and watch you walk down that street. When you’re a block away, I’ll resume my afternoon shopping.”

Mason shook his head. “Having gone to all this trouble to find you,” he said, “I don’t intend to let you escape so easily.”

“Then they’re your detectives!”

Mason said nothing.

She tilted her head defiantly. “Very well,” she said. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Do we have to declare war?” Mason asked.

“Yes,” she said, “unless you retreat.”

“Answer four or five questions,” Mason said, “and I’ll sue for an armistice.”

“No.”

“All right,” he said, “it’s war then.”

They had been swinging along the sidewalk as they talked, apparently a couple gaily chatting with each other. Only a close observer would have noticed the dogged determination on the lawyer’s face and the nervous uneasiness in the girl’s manner.

A signal changed. The crossing officer turned with the approaching stream of pedestrians, walking quietly to stand at watchful attention near the edge of the crossing, his eye shrewdly appraising the automobile traffic, alert to detect the first symptoms of a prohibited left-hand turn.

Abruptly the young woman at Mason’s side pushed him away violently and called out, “Officer! This man is annoying me! He…”

Moving with lightning swiftness and before the officer could turn to get them in his field of vision, Mason snatched the purse from under her arm.

Speechless with surprise and indignation, she whirled to stare at him with startled eyes. Mason raised his hat and said, “I’m only trying to return the purse, Madam.”

The officer pushed toward them. “What’s all this? What’s all this?” he asked.

“He’s annoying me,” the young woman said. “He grabbed…”

Mason smiled. “A young woman left her purse on the counter in the drugstore,” he explained to the officer. “I believe the purse belongs to this young woman, but I won’t give it up until she can identify it. That’s only reasonable, isn’t it? Here, you can take it if you want.”

Mason calmly opened the purse and said, “You can see for yourself, officer. There’s…”

She jumped toward Mason, grabbing frantically at the purse. “Don’t you dare…”

Mason turned so as to present one of his broad shoulders to her rushing attack. He pulled a leather folder from her purse, opened it to glance quickly at her driving license, and said, “You can see for yourself, officer. The name and address of the owner of the purse are here on this driving license. All she has to do is give me her name, and I’ll surrender the purse.”

There were quick tears of humiliation and indignation in her eyes.

The officer said, “Say, buddy. You’re acting kinda funny about this.”

“I fail to see anything strange about it,” Mason said with dignity. “Permit me to introduce myself, officer. I’m Perry Mason, the attorney. I…”

“Say,” the officer exclaimed, “you are for a fact! Pardon me, Mr. Mason. I didn’t recognize you. I’ve seen you in court some, and seen your picture in the papers a lot.”

Mason bowed and smiled acknowledgment, then said to the young woman, in his most conciliatory manner, “You can appreciate my position. I think this is your purse. I certainly can’t turn it over to you unless you can at least identify it.”

“Oh, very well,” she said. “The name on the driving license is Adelle Hastings. The address is 906 Cleveland Square. There’s even a fingerprint of my thumb on the driving license in case you want any further identification.”

Mason said, “It’s quite all right, Miss Hastings. I’m satisfied it’s your purse. That’s the name and address on the driving license.”

The officer looked past them to the curious onlookers who had stopped to listen. “On your way,” he growled. “This is an intersection, not a club-room. Keep moving. Don’t be blocking the traffic.”

Mason raised his hat, bowed to the officer, and said to Adelle Hastings, “Are you going my way, Miss Hastings?”

She blinked back the tears. “Yes,” she said, and then added after a moment, “I am now,” and fell into step at his side.

Mason said, “I was sorry I didn’t have an opportunity to make a more detailed investigation of your coin purse.”