"Come on up," Della Street said.
She cradled the phone, turned to Perry Mason and caught the interest in his eye.
"Dianne?" Mason asked.
"That's right."
"Wants the contract back?"
"Yes."
Mason resumed his contemplative study of the ceiling. "Is she coming up to get the contract, Della?"
"Yes."
"What caused her sudden concern, Della?"
"She didn't say."
"When she comes," Mason said, "invite her in. I want to talk with her."
Mason lit a cigarette, watched the smoke curl upward.
At length he said, "I have become more than a little curious about Harrison T. Boring. He may be smarter than I thought."
The lawyer lapsed into silence, remained thoughtful until the chimes sounded and Della Street opened the door.
Dianne Alder said, "I won't come in, Della, thanks. Just hand me the papers and I'll be on my way."
"Come on in," Mason invited.
She stood on the threshold as Della Street opened the door wide. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Mason. Thank you so much, but I won't disturb you, I'll just run on."
"Come in, I'd like to talk with you."
"I…"
Mason indicated a chair.
Reluctantly, apparently qot knowing how to avoid the lawyer's invitation without giving offense, Dianne Alder came in and said, "Actually I'm in a hurry and I… I didn't want to disturb you. I let Della look over my contract. She was interested and… well, I wanted to be sure that it was good. You see, I'm depending a lot on that contract."
"You have dependents?" Mason asked.
"No longer. Mother died over six months ago."
"Leave you any estate?" Mason asked casually.
"Heavens, no. She left a will leaving everything to me, but there wasn't anything to leave. I was supporting her. That's why I had to keep on with a steady job. I had thought some of-well, moving to the city but Mother liked it here and I didn't want to leave her, and it's too far to commute."
"Father living?"
"No. He died when I was ten years old. Really, Mr. Mason, I don't like to intrude on your time, and I-well… someone is waiting for me."
"I see," Mason said, and nodded to Della Street. "Better give her the contract, Della."
Dianne took the contract, thanked Della Street, gave Mason a timid hand, said, "Thank you so much, Mr. Mason. It's been such a pleasure meeting you," and then, turning, walked rapidly out of the door and all but ran down the corridor.
"Well?" Della Street said, closing the door.
Mason shook his head. "That girl needs someone to look after her."
"Isn't the contract all right?"
"Is Boring all right?" Mason asked.
"I don't know."
"He's paying one hundred dollars a week," Mason said. "He agrees to pay fifty-two hundred dollars a year. Suppose he doesn't pay it. Then what?"
"Why, he'd be liable for it, wouldn't he?"
"If he has any property," Mason said. "It hasn't been determined that he has any property. No one seems to know very much about him.
"Dianne Alder has given up a job. She's putting on weight-that's like rowing out of a bay when the tide is running out. It's mighty easy to go out but when you turn around and try to come back, you have to fight every inch of the way.
"Suppose that some Saturday morning the hundred dollars isn't forthcoming. Suppose she rings the telephone of Harrison T. Boring at the modeling agency and finds the phone has been disconnected?"
"Yes," Della Street said, "I can see where that would put Dianne in an embarrassing predicament. But, of course, if she were working at a job, the boss could tell her that he was handing her two weeks" wages and had no further need for her services."
"He could," Mason said, "but if he hired her in the first place and her services were satisfactory, he would have no particular reason to dispense with them."
"Perhaps Boring would have no reason to dispense with her services," Della Street said.
"That depends on what he was looking for in the first place," Mason pointed out. "If Dianne marries a millionaire, she has to pay over half of what she gets during a six-year period. If Boring quits paying, Dianne may have nothing but an added twelve pounds of weight and a worthless piece of paper."
Abruptly the lawyer reached a decision. "Get Paul Drake at the Drake Detective Agency, Della."
Della Street said, "Here we go again."
"We do, for a fact," Mason said. "This thing has aroused my curiosity. As an attorney I don't like to stand with my hands in my pockets and watch Dianne being taken for a ride.
"I know I'm getting the cart before the horse, but I'll bet odds that before we get finished Dianne will be asking for our help. When she does, I want to be one jump ahead of Boring instead of one jump behind."
Della Street said archly, "Would you be so solicitous of her welfare if she were flat-chested?"
Mason grinned. "Frankly, Della, I don't know. But I think my motivation at the moment is one of extreme curiosity, plus a desire to give Boring a lesson about picking on credulous young women."
"All right," she said, "I'll call Paul. He usually comes into the office around this time on Sundays to check up on the reports made by his various operatives over Friday and Saturday."
Della Street put through the call. After a few moments she said, "Hello, Paul… The boss wants to talk with you."
Mason moved over to the telephone. "Hi, Paul. I have a job for you. A gentleman by the name of Harrison T. Boring. He has a business. It's called the Hollywood Talent Scout Modeling Agency. It's a Hollywood address and that's all I know for sure."
"What about him?" Drake asked.
"Get a line on him," Mason said, "and I'm particularly interested in knowing if he is cultivating some millionaire who has a penchant for young women. If you find any millionaires in the guy's background, I'd like to know about them.
"And it's very important that he has no inkling of the fact he's being investigated."
"Okay," Drake said, "I'll get a line on him."
"Here's another angle of the same picture," Mason said. "Dianne Alder, about twenty-four, with lots of this and that and these and those, blonde, blue-eyed, with lots and lots of figure. Living here at Bolero Beach. Mother died six months ago. Father died when she was ten years old. Worked as a secretary for a law firm. I'm interested in her. She's been living here for some time and it shouldn't be too difficult to get her background. What I am particularly interested in at the moment is finding out whether she's being kept under surveillance."
"May I ask who your client is?" Drake said. "I'd like to get the picture in proper perspective."
"I'm the client," Mason said. "Get your men started."
When Mason had hung up the telephone, Della Street said, "You think she's under surveillance, Perry?"
"I'm just wondering," Mason said. "I'd like to know if someone knew she'd been talking with us and had delivered a warning. She seemed rather disturbed about something. If anyone is playing games, I want to find out about it and if I'm going to be asked to sit in on the game I want to draw cards.
"Comment?"
Della Street smiled. "No comment, but I still wonder what would happen if she'd been flat-chested."
CHAPTER FOUR
Perry Mason had a court hearing set for Monday morning. The hearing ran over until midafternoon and it was not until three-thirty that the lawyer reached his office.
Della Street said, "Paul has a preliminary report on your friend, Harrison T. Boring."
"Good," Mason said.
"I'll tell him you're here and he'll give you the lowdown."