“Oh, Mr. Mason,” Daphne said, “I can’t do that. I don’t want to be a... a beggar.”
Mason smiled at her and said, “Quit crying, Daphne. If all beggars were as beautiful as you are, it would be a wonderful world... But you’re not a beggar, you’re a client and I’m a lawyer.”
“But I can’t pay you anything, and the way things look now, I don’t know if I ever can. Tell me, if Uncle Horace left a will in my favor and they have found it and just burned it up, what could be done?”
Mason’s face was stern. “Probably nothing,” he said, “unless we can prove that such a will was in existence and they had burned it. Do you know if he made such a will?”
“He told me that he was going to.”
“His letter,” Mason said, “indicates that he hadn’t done it. I may as well prepare you for the worst, Daphne. You’ve been the victim of a very clever conspiracy. Also it’s a conspiracy that is as old as the hills. A wealthy man has relatives. Some of the relatives are close to him some of them are not. The relatives who aren’t close to him come to visit, get themselves established in the house, get rid of the relative who is close to the old man, then take advantage of the absence to claim the old man is mentally weak and subject to being exploited by shrewd and designing persons. They have themselves appointed conservators, tear up any will they may find and so put themselves in a position of sharing in the estate.”
“But can’t... can’t he make a new will?”
“Not after he’s been declared incompetent,” Mason said. “That’s the beauty of the scheme.”
“But how can they get a person declared incompetent when he’s really in full possession of his faculties?”
“That,” Mason said, “is the diabolically clever part of it. You take any man who is past a certain age, who is accustomed to love, devotion and loyalty, then surround him with people who are willing to commit perjury who constantly irritate him and perhaps are willing to use drugs, and the first thing you know you have a man who seems to be incompetent.
“But what I’m afraid of is that he may have walked into a trap.”
“What do you mean, a trap?” she asked.
“That letter to you,” Mason said.
“Why, what about it? He just wanted me to be taken care of no matter what happened.”
“Of course he did,” Mason said, “but if they walk into court and say, ‘Here is a man who gives his niece a check for a hundred and twenty five thousand dollars and tells her to put the money where it can’t be found — well, such a person needs a conservator of his estate.’ ”
Daphne’s eyes grew large and round. “Do you mean that they used this letter—”
“I think perhaps they did,” Mason said. “I don’t know, but I think perhaps they did.
“However, you go with Della Street. I’ll fill Paul Drake in on some of the details. He’ll start work, and before two o’clock I’ll have seen Judge Ballinger. By that time, we’ll know a lot more about this.”
“And what about my things out at the house?”
“You leave your things right there for the moment,” Mason said, “unless there is something that you need.”
“But they told me I had only until tomorrow night.”
“By tomorrow night,” Mason said, “You may be in the house and they may be out.”
“But Mr. Mason, I... I don’t know how I’m ever going to pay you.”
“We’ll work that out,” Mason said. “Right at the moment, remember that I’m an officer of the court, a high priest at the temple of justice. You’re a naive individual who has been the victim of a very great injustice. As a matter of principle, I’m going to try to rectify it.
“Now, you go with Della.”
Mason nodded to Della Street and said, “Be sure she has some lunch, Della, and you get some, too.”
Chapter 3
Judge Ballinger came bustling into his chambers at twelve minutes of two.
“Hello, Perry,” he said. “Come in. I’m sorry I’m cutting things so fine as far as time is concerned, but I had a rather important luncheon appointment.”
Mason followed the judge to his chambers and watched while the judge put on his robe.
“Got to go on the bench at two o’clock,” the judge explained. “I can hold it off maybe a minute or two. What’s the problem?”
Mason said, “I think perhaps I’m going to appear before you in your court on a contested matter and I don’t want to jeopardize your position or mine by discussing it, but I do want to get some history and, if possible, find out the reasoning back of an order you made in the case.”
“What’s the case?”
“The matter of the Horace Shelby conservator.”
“Why, I handled that just a couple of days ago,” Judge Ballinger said.
“I know you did.”
Judge Ballinger looked at him shrewdly. “You think there’s anything wrong with the case?”
Mason said, “Let’s not either of us discuss anything except the history, but I would appreciate your thinking.”
“I’ll discuss any guardianship matter any time,” Judge Ballinger said. “In those cases the Court wants all the information it can get.
“Mind you, I don’t want you to tell me anything you feel should come before me by way of evidence in a contested matter, but I’m certainly willing to tell you how I felt.
“Horace Shelby is an old man, and he’s confused, there’s no question about that, and he was incoherent. He was excited, emotional and apparently he’d made a check for a hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars to some young woman who had been living in the house with him.
“Now, when you get a combination like that, you figure that something needs to be done. I appointed the conservator on a temporary basis with the statement that the Court would review it at any time any additional facts came up.”
The judge stopped talking and looked at Mason. “You feel that you have some other facts?”
“I think it’s possible,” Mason said.
“All right,” Judge Ballinger said. “The order is subject to review with additional facts. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock too early for you to present your facts?”
“I think not,” Mason said.
“Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock— No, wait a minute, I’ve got a another case on at ten. We’ll convene court early. Make it nine thirty. Tomorrow morning at nine thirty we’ll have another hearing.
“I’m not going to ask to have Horace Shelby brought into court, because I think the court hearing upset him. I’ll take a look at any additional facts that are presented and then if I want to amend, suspend, modify the order I made, I’ll do it. That suit you?”
“Fine,” Mason said.
“Prepare notice to the other side with an order shortening time and all the rest of it,” Judge Ballinger said. “I’m two minutes late now.”
He shook hands with Mason and walked from chambers into the courtroom.
Mason left Judge Ballinger’s chambers, hurried back to his office and entered through the reception room.
He nodded to Gertie, the receptionist, and asked, “Is Della back?”
“Back about twenty minutes ago,” she said.
Mason went in to the inner office.
“How did you do, Della?” he asked.
“Everything’s okay,” she said. “The poor child could hardly eat a bite... Isn’t that the darnedest thing you ever heard of?”
“It happens more frequently than we like to contemplate,” Mason said.
“How you do with Judge Ballinger?”
Mason grinned and said, “Make an order shortening time and an order for an additional hearing tomorrow morning at nine-thirty. See that it gets served on opposing counsel. By the way, who is the attorney in the case?”