Erle Gardner - The Case of the Baited Hook

“I suppose that’s right.”

“And,” Mason said, “before I started anything, I’d have to see Miss Gailord and have her give me a direct authorization to act.”

Mrs. Tump, suddenly businesslike, glanced at a jeweled wrist watch. “At two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?” she asked. “Would that be convenient?”

Mason said, “I’d be very glad to give her an appointment for that time.”

Mrs. Tump pulled herself out of the deep recesses of the leather chair. “I’ll get busy right away,” she said. “—Oh, by the way, Mr. Mason, I may have done something wrong… Perhaps I got the cart before the horse.”

“What?” Mason asked.

She said, “When Mr. Tidings told me to see his lawyer, I told him that he could see my lawyer, that Mr. Perry Mason would call on him at eleven o’clock this morning. I hope that was all right.”

Mason did not answer her question directly. He said, “You’re a resident of this city, Mrs. Tump?”

“No, I’m not,” she said. “I came here recently because Byrl was here. I’m living at the St. Germaine Hotel.”

Mason said, with elaborate unconcern, “Do you have her address, Mrs. Tump?”

“Why, of course — the Vista Angeles Apartments… She’s going to take a trip with me as soon as we can get matters straightened out. I’m financing her in the meantime. Understand, Mr. Mason, you’ll make all arrangements through me. She’ll be your client, of course, but I’ll be the one who pays the fees, and therefore the one you’ll look to for instructions.”

“Is she,” Mason asked, “listed in the telephone book?”

“Yes.”

Mason said, “Thank you, Mrs. Tump. I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“And how about this appointment with Mr. Tidings?”

“I’ll get in touch with him,” Mason said, “and explain that I’ve been consulted, that the hour isn’t convenient for me, and ask for a later appointment.”

She gave him her hand. “You give me a real feeling of confidence, Mr. Mason… You’re so different from those other lawyers. I built up a phobia about the legal profession. But Mr. Peltham told me you’d be like this. He seemed to know a great deal about you… You’ve met him personally, perhaps?”

Mason laughed. “I meet so many people — and so many people know me whom I don’t know, that at times it’s embarrassing.”

“Yes, of course. That’s what comes of being a famous lawyer. Well, I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

Mason and Della Street remained motionless, watching Mrs. Tump walk across the office with firm, competent steps. She made no effort to leave by the door through which she had entered, but walked directly to the door which opened from Mason’s private office into the outer corridor. She twisted the knurled knob which released the catch, and turned on the threshold to smile once more at them. “Don’t forget about that eleven o’clock appointment with Tidings, Mr. Mason,” she said, and pulled the door shut behind her.

When the latch had clicked into place, Mason trusted himself for the first time to look at Della Street.

“Ain’t we got fun!” she said.

Mason grinned. “I knew there was going to be a joker in the thing somewhere.”

Della, suddenly serious, tried to reassure him. “After all,” she said, “the coincidence may be just that and nothing more.”

“It may be,” he admitted, in a voice that showed his skepticism. “One chance in ten million if you want to make it mathematical.”

“Well,” she said, “I suppose that Mrs. Tump would hardly be the woman who holds the other part of that ten-thousand-dollar bill.”

“No,” Mason said, “but what do you want to bet that Byrl Gailord isn’t?”

“No takers,” she told him. “This is your personally conducted excursion into the realm of mysterious women and masked mistresses… Of course, if Byrl Gailord knew that Mrs. Tump was going to call on you and arrange for an appointment, she’d have been careful to keep you from hearing her voice… But I don’t see why all the secrecy.”

Mason said, “Because she doesn’t want Mrs. Tump to know that she’s intimate with Peltham — if Byrl Gailord is the one who’s intimate with him.”

“And if she isn’t?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “Forget that. Ring up that Contractor’s Journal. Tell them we have a personal ad which must go in their next issue. Look up the position of Byrl Gailord’s name in the telephone directory, and compose a code ad asking if it’s all right to represent her… And somehow I feel as though I’m walking into a trap the minute I do that.”

“Couldn’t you go ahead and represent her without it?”

“I could,” Mason admitted, “but I don’t want to. That ten thousand dollars looked as big as the national debt last night, Della, but it looks like trouble now. Go ahead and work out that ad. Tell Paul Drake to look up Tidings, and get Tidings on the telephone for me.”

A few moments later, she popped her head in the door to say, “There’s a one-thirty dead-line on that ad, Chief. I’ve got it ready and will rush it down. Albert Tidings is coming on the line in just a moment. His secretary’s on now.”

Mason picked up the telephone, and a man’s rather high-pitched voice said, “Hello.”

“Mr. Tidings?” Mason asked.

“No. This is his secretary. Just a moment, Mr. Mason. Mr. Tidings is coming right on… Here he is.”

A booming, resonant voice said, irritably, “Hello. Who the devil is this?”

“Perry Mason, the lawyer,” Mason said. “I’m calling in regard to an appointment a Mrs. Tump made with you. She said I’d call on you at eleven… Is this Albert Tidings?”

There was a moment of silence, then the voice said cautiously, “Yes, this is Tidings. I know all about what you want, and…”

“Mrs. Tump has just left my office,” Mason interposed as the man at the other end of the line paused uncertainly. “She said she’d made an appointment for me to meet you at eleven o’clock this morning. That appointment was, of course, made without consulting my own convenience and…”

“I understand perfectly, Mr. Mason,” the booming voice interrupted. “I was going to call you myself… Hadn’t got around to it yet. It’s all damn poppycock. You don’t want to waste your time on it, and I don’t want to waste mine. She said eleven o’clock… I knew you wouldn’t drop your business and come running around to peddle a lot of old woman’s gossip, but I didn’t say anything to Mrs. Tump. I just figured I wouldn’t hear any more about it, but I told my secretary to call you up just to make sure.”

“It’s quite possible,” Mason said, “that I’ll want to talk with your attorney — if you can tell me who he is.”

“I have several attorneys,” Tidings said, evasively.

“Can you tell me which lawyer will be handling this particular case?”

“None of them,” Tidings said. “It’s all bosh. I tell you there’s nothing to it, but one thing I will tell you, Mason. If that woman doesn’t quit her whispering campaign of poison propaganda, I’m going after her. Byrl’s a swell girl. We get along fine, but that old buzzard is poison and she’s laying up trouble for herself. She’s a chiseler and is just trying to make Byrl dissatisfied so as to feather her own nest. I’m going after her if she doesn’t quit. You can tell her that straight from me.”

“Tell her straight from yourself,” Mason said. “I only called up to cancel an appointment.”

Tidings laughed. “All right. All right. I didn’t mean it that way, Mason, but I’m getting irritated… All right. Call up whenever you want to see me. Your secretary and mine can doubtless get together. Good-by.”