The Case of the Fenced-In Woman (14 page)

"No!" she cried. "You can't do that! You can't…"

"Oh, but we can," Tragg said, "and we're going to. Now this handbag or purse here. It's lying on the bed as though you've put something in it in a hurry. Let's just see what we have here, if you don't mind."

Tragg opened the bag.

"Well, well, well," he said.

"That's money I won!" she cried. "I won it here gambling in Las Vegas."

Tragg stood looking at her, his smile deceptively cordial but his eyes hard as diamonds.

"Congratulations," he said.

Mason said, "I assume there's no further need for me to be here. You can remember what I told you, Mrs. Palmer, and…"

"Don't go, don't go," Tragg said. "I want you here for two reasons: First, I want you to hear what Mrs. Palmer has to say because you'll be a disinterested witness since you have other clients in the case, and second, I want to search you before you go."

"Search me?" Mason asked.

"Exactly," Tragg said. "Who knows but what you came here to present a claim on behalf of your client and received something in the way of a cash settlement. I'm quite sure we won't find anything, Mason, but it's a formality that the Las Vegas police insisted on. If you'll just stand there, please."

"Do you have a warrant to search me?" Mason asked.

The Las Vegas officer said, "We can take you down to the station, book you on disorderly conduct, occupying a room for immoral purposes, resisting an officer and a few other charges. Then we'll turn you inside out when we get you down there. You can have it whichever way you want. Now hold your arms out from your sides."

Mason smilingly held his arms out from his sides. "Go right ahead, gentlemen," he invited.

"He's clean," Tragg said, "clean as a hound's tooth. I know him like a book. He'd have pulled some sort of a razzle – dazzle if he'd had anything on him."

The Las Vegas officer rapidly went through Perry Mason's pockets. "I guess the stuff is all there," he said, indicating Nadine Palmer's handbag.

"And quite a haul," Tragg said. "Several thousand dollars. Now, did you win all of this money at the tables, Mrs. Palmer?"

Nadine Palmer said, "I don't like your attitude, I don't like the way you come into my room and make yourselves at home, I don't have to answer any of your questions. You're trying to browbeat me and intimidate me and I'm going to insist on having a lawyer of my own choosing here before I answer any questions."

"Is Mr. Mason the lawyer you have reference to?"

"He is not," she said. "Mr. Mason is representing other people in the case. I want an attorney who will represent me and me alone."

Tragg stepped over, held the door open and bowed smilingly to Mason. "That, Counselor," he said, "is the cue for your exit. You've been searched, you have a clean bill of health, you aren't this woman's attorney. We're taking her to Headquarters for interrogation and we certainly don't want to detain you.

"I even understand that you were a little lucky at the gaming tables a while back. If you don't mind accepting a word of advice from a seasoned officer, I would suggest that now you've made your little pile of winnings, you stay away from the tables for the rest of the evening. They have an excellent floor show here, I understand.

"And of course you won't mind having the Las Vegas police keep an eye on you, Mason. We want to know where you go, what you do and with whom you talk. I wouldn't tell you this, only I know that you'll spot the gentleman waiting around the entrance to the casino as a plainclothes officer who has been instructed to keep you in sight. In such cases if there's a mutual understanding it's always so much easier all around." Tragg bowed with mock deference as he held the door open.

Mason turned to Nadine Palmer, "I think you've made a wise decision," he said. "Get an attorney."

"Are you presuming to advise her?" Tragg asked.

"Just as a friend, not as an attorney," Mason said.

Tragg said to Nadine Palmer, "Mr. Mason is representing other people in this case. Everything he does is done for their best interests. Quite naturally if he can get you involved with the police, it's going to make things a lot easier for his clients. I'm just telling you this so you can take everything into consideration. I wouldn't want you to labor under any misapprehensions, and I'm quite certain Mason wouldn't want you to think he was advising you as an attorney while he has conflicting interests because then he'd be guilty of unprofessional conduct.

"And now, good night, Mr. Mason, and I hope you enjoy the floor show."

"Thank you," Mason said. "I'm quite certain that I will, Lieutenant, and I hope you enjoy your visit here."

Chapter Eleven

THE PHONE was ringing as Mason opened the door of his bungalow.

The lawyer kicked the door shut, hurried across to the telephone and picked it up at the end of the third ring.

"Hello," he said.

"There's a long – distance call for Mr. Perry Mason from Los Angeles," the operator said.

"This is Mr. Mason talking."

"Just a moment."

Almost at once Mason heard Paul Drake's voice on the line. "Hi, Perry."

"Hello, Paul. How did you locate me?"

"Detective work and deduction," Drake said. "I knew you were headed for Las Vegas, that Genevieve Hyde worked in the place where you're staying, and felt sure you'd register there."

"I'm here," Mason said. "Also, Lieutenant Tragg is here."

"How did he get there?"

"Apparently followed me. After I took off for Las Vegas, Tragg telephoned the local police to pick up my trail as soon as I arrived. Then he grabbed a plane, came over here and joined them."

"They got anything?" Drake asked.

"That's quite a question," Mason said. "Nadine Palmer was hitting the tables pretty heavy and doing a good job of it. They came down on her with a search warrant and recovered a bunch of money."

"Well, they've uncovered lots here," Drake said. "I think your clients are in a mess, Perry."

"My clients?" Mason asked.

"That's right."

"It sounded as though you had an 's' on the end of that," Mason said. "And Lieutenant Tragg keeps referring to my clients in the plural. As far as I'm concerned I only have one client in this case, and that's Morley Eden."

"I think you've got two," Drake said. "I think they're together."

"Who's together?"

"Morley Eden and Vivian Carson."

"But that's absurd," Mason said. "Good heavens, Paul, they wouldn't…"

The lawyer's voice trailed away as the idea germinated in his mind even while he was formulating the words pointing out its absurdity.

"Exactly," Drake said, as Mason remained silent.

"Go ahead, Paul," Mason said, "give me the facts. What have they uncovered?"

"They've found Loring Carson's automobile."

"Where?"

"In Vivian Carson's garage."

"You mean out at Morley Eden's house? Or…"

"No, in the garage at her apartment."

"Go on," Mason said. "Give me the facts, Paul."

"Well, all I know is that after Carson and his wife separated she went to an apartment house where each apartment has a private garage space-an underneath, two – car garage that goes with the apartment. Now, Mrs. Carson was staying there in her apartment until Saturday when she got her surveyor and crew of construction workers and went out and ran the fence right through the middle of Eden's house. Then, of course, she moved in."

"Go on," Mason said.

"Naturally she moved in on a hurry – up basis. She took what stuff she could carry in her automobile, and of course she retained possession of her Hollywood apartment. In fact, she has it on a lease."

"And that's where they found the car?"

"That's where they found the car."

"How did they happen to go there to look for it?"

"I don't know."

"Any chance Loring Carson left it there himself?"

"No. That's where you come in on the deal, Perry. Both of them left it there."

"You mean Loring and Vivian?"

"No, I mean Vivian and Morley Eden."

"You're sure?"

"I'm not, but the police are. They have a witness who has made a positive identification of Morley Eden."

"Just one witness?" Mason asked.

"How many do you expect on a deal of that sort?"

"It's a mistake," Mason said. "Vivian may have been mixed up in it and may have parked the car, but Morley Eden wasn't with her. That's for sure. Eyewitnesses can be mistaken lots of times."

"I know," Drake said, "but there are certain things to keep in mind. Vivian Carson was all mixed up in this divorce case with charges of weekend trysts and all that. In the minds of the neighbors she became a scarlet woman."

"What does that have to do with it?" Mason asked.

Drake said, "You know how one woman always likes to spy on an erring sister. It's an interest that's composed partially of curiosity, partially of envy, and-"

"Forget the philosophy," Mason said, "even if it is your nickel that's paying for the call."

"Oh, but I'm putting it on my expense account," Drake said, "and I like to philosophize."

"Well, I don't. Things are moving too fast. What happened?"

"This neighbor heard Vivian's garage door being raised. She rushed to the window to see what Vivian was up to and whether Vivian was alone. She saw Vivian and a man she identifies as Morley Eden. Vivian parked the car. Morley Eden was running around helping her very solicitously. Then he lowered the garage door, she locked it, and they walked rapidly away. That car they drove into the garage was Carson's missing auto."

"That's fine," Mason said. "That gives them a good case against Eden and Vivian Carson, and now they've got a good case against Nadine Palmer. We'll see how many more murderers Lieutenant Tragg can uncover at this end."

"Be careful you aren't one," Drake said jokingly. "When are you coming back, Perry?"

"Sometime tomorrow morning. I'm hoping they'll turn Nadine Palmer loose after they've given her a shakedown at Headquarters."

"Now that they've found Loring's car they won't hold her," Drake said. "They'll drop her like a hot potato. They won't want the newspapers to get hold of the fact they had another suspect."

"Now that," Mason said, "is a whale of an idea. Particularly since I'm not representing Nadine Palmer in any way, I don't owe her a thing. Thanks for the suggestion."

"What suggestion?" Drake asked.

"Yours," Mason said. "Ring up the wire services. Tell them that you have a hot tip on a news story, that Las Vegas police have just picked up Nadine Palmer and that she's held for questioning in connection with the murder of Loring Carson. Tell them to check with their Las Vegas office. Don't give them your name. Tell them it's just a tip. Be sure they get Nadine Palmer's name right and then hang up."

"Okay," Drake said, "can do. Anything else, Perry?"

"That's enough for a while," Mason said. He put down the receiver, ran exploring fingers over the angle of his jaw, picked up the telephone, asked for the bell captain and said, "This is Perry Mason in two – o – seven. I've got to have some overnight things; an electric razor, toothbrush, hairbrush and comb, and-"

Abruptly he stopped, his eyes fixed on a dark brown briefcase at the far end of the room.

"Yes, Mr. Mason," the bell captain said, "was there something else?"

"I'll call you back in a moment," Mason said, "but start lining up those things for me, if you will."

"We may not be able to get you the brand of electric razor you'd like. We-"

"That's all right," Mason said. "Get whatever one is available or get a safety razor and a shaving – cream dispenser. I'll call you back."

"We'll be working on it," the bell captain said.

Mason hung up, crossed to the briefcase, picked it up and looked at it.

It was of a good grade of heavy leather, dark brown in color, was unlocked, and in gilt letters underneath the hasp was the printed name, "P. MASON."

Mason snapped the catch, opened the briefcase and looked inside.

The interior was well filled with an orderly array of folded documents.

Mason pulled out one of the documents. It was a bond in the sum of five thousand dollars, issued by a utility company and payable to A. B. L. Seymour.

The lawyer quickly riffled through the contents of the briefcase, not taking the papers out individually but making enough of a survey to realize that the briefcase was crammed with negotiable securities, all issued to A. B. L. Seymour, and apparently all of them were endorsed in blank with the signature of A. B. L. Seymour.

Mason closed the briefcase, returned to the telephone and once more called the bell captain and identified himself. "How about baggage?" he asked. "Could I get any at this time of night?"

"Oh, yes. There's a luggage shop here in the building. It stays open until quite late."

"That's fine," Mason said. "I want a suitcase and a briefcase. I want each stamped with the name 'P. MASON' in gold letters. I want toilet articles and I'm in a terrific hurry. Will you see what you can do?"

"Right away. You want the name 'P. MASON' stamped in gold?"

"That's right."

"Would you prefer to have it 'PERRY MASON'?"

"No. I want 'P. MASON.' And spend whatever money you need to get a rush job. I'll go to thirty dollars in tips alone."

"Thank you, Mr. Mason, we'll get busy."

The lawyer jiggled the phone, got the operator and placed a long – distance call to Della Street at her apartment.

"In bed, Della?" he asked when he heard her voice on the line.

"Heavens, no. I was reading. How are things coming over there?"

"Not too hot," Mason said. "I'm running into a frame – up of some sort."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quick with alarm.

"I don't know," Mason told her, "but somebody is planting evidence in this case and someone has planted evidence on me."

"What sort of evidence?"

"I don't want to tell you over the phone."

"Who planted it?"

"Probably the murderer," Mason said. "And because it couldn't have been Morley Eden or Vivian Carson, it must have been someone else.

"Now it could conceivably have been Nadine Palmer, in which event she's a very smart, very clever, very dangerous operator. If it wasn't she, I just don't have any idea who it could have been unless it was Genevieve Hyde, and she gives me the impression of being straightforward and frank."

"The straightforward, frank ones are the dangerous ones," Della said.

"I know it," Mason told her. "She's an actress. She makes her living by putting on a good show. She gets a man all enthused over the idea of gambling. She builds him up to a point where it's easy come, easy go, and then when things go the other way she encourages him to keep on plunging until he's had enough. By that time she manages very adroitly to withdraw herself from the picture so that there are no hard feelings."

"That," Della Street said, "is a job!"

"It is," Mason said, "but she has help; very expert feminine help that is working in a combination they understand perfectly. They have all the coordinated skill of a football team making a trick play to open up the enemy's lines."

"And someone has turned that combination loose on you?"

"Someone has turned that combination loose on me," Mason said.

"I think I'd better get over there and look around," she said. "Don't you think you could use me?"

"I know I could use you," Mason told her, "but there won't be time for you to get here. If I can get rid of the hot stuff that has been dumped in my lap as a part of this frame – up I'll be on my way back to Los Angeles before you arrive. My bungalow number is two – o – seven. If you don't hear from me by morning, start checking."

"Okay," she said, "but I wish I could get there and give you some feminine support. It takes a woman to undo the machinations of another woman. A man is as helpless as a fly trapped in the gossamer of a spider web."

"You sound almost poetic," Mason told her.

"I don't mean to be. I'm trying to frighten you. I could get there by midnight or soon after and-"

"The situation here will come to a head before that," Mason said. "I'll probably be on my way back by that time, unless I'm in jail."