“If you can come over right away I’ll be glad to see you,” Banner said.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll be there,” Mason told him.
Mason hung up the telephone and said to Della, “I’m going over to Banner’s office and see if I can get a little of the background on this case. If I start trying to pump him over the telephone he’ll get suspicious, but if I go over and visit with him for a while he’s apt to do more talking than be really intended to.”
Mason left the office and walked down the street to the corner, waited for the signal, crossed the street, walked half a block and entered the Grayfrier Building. He consulted the directory and learned that Banner’s entrance office was in Room 438.
The building was a modern steel and concrete structure with a bank of smooth-running elevators, and within a matter of seconds Mason opened the door marked HUNTLEY L. BANNER — Enter.
The young woman who sat at a desk facing the door, combining the duties of secretary, stenographer, receptionist and telephone operator, smiled rather vaguely at Mason.
“I’m Perry Mason,” he said. “I was talking with Mr. Banner on the telephone and—”
“Oh, yes,” she interrupted, coming to life with startling alacrity. “Oh, yes, Mr. Mason!”
She pushed back the secretarial chair, came around the desk, smiled over her shoulder and said, “This way, please.”
Mason noted the trim figure, the lithe walk, as she went to the door and opened it.
“Mr. Mason,” she announced.
The man who was seated behind the big desk got up and came forward with outstretched hand, his face twisting into a slow smile. He was in his late thirties, chunky in build and had shrewd eyes.
“This is an honor, Counselor,” he said. “I’d have been glad to come over and see you but you talked so fast I didn’t have a chance to get my thoughts organized.
“This is Miss Mitchell, my secretary, Mr. Mason. She’s quite a fan of yours.”
The secretary regarded Mason with dark eyes in which there was quite plainly a hint of personalized interest. She extended her hand and said, “I’m delighted to meet you.”
Mason took her hand and bowed gravely. “A pleasure, Miss Mitchell.”
“See that we’re not disturbed,” Banner said. “Shut off all telephone calls.”
“Oh, it isn’t that important,” Mason said, smiling.
“It is to me,” Banner told him. “Sit down, Mr. Mason. Make yourself comfortable... This Hastings case may be rather long and drawn-out, but if your client wants to act sensibly there’s no reason why the property settlement part of it can’t be handled almost overnight.”
“You said you had a proposition in mind that you couldn’t outline over the telephone?” Mason suggested.
“Well, I have and I haven’t,” Banner told him. “Of course, you know the gambit, Mason. I’m not going to be dumb enough to stick my neck out and say, ‘Here’s what my client will do.’ That would crucify us at some later date.”
“So I’ll play it the way a smart lawyer should and say, ‘This is what I am prepared to advise my client to do.’ That’s not binding on my client, it’s not binding on me, it’s not binding on anyone.”
“If you accept the offer and we make a settlement, that’s fine. If you don’t like the offer, you can’t use it against my client and you can’t use it against me.”
“Fair enough,” Mason said. “What’s the offer?”
“I will advise my client to pay Adelle Hastings ten thousand dollars a year for a period of five years, or until she remarries, whichever comes first. I will advise him to leave her a flat sum of fifty thousand dollars in his will and provide in the agreement that this bequest is irrevocable unless she predeceases him.”
“That’s rather an awkward way of handling it,” Mason said. “I don’t like this idea of a will. How about having him take out a paid-up fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy?”
“That might be arranged,” Banner said. “I have discussed a settlement along these other lines with my client and— Well, you know, Mason, I’m not sticking my neck out, but I’ll put it this way: There would be no serious objection on the part of my client to the settlement I have outlined.”
“All right,” Mason said, “that’s your offer. How much—”
“Not an offer, not an offer,” Banner said hastily. “It’s what I am willing to advise my client to do.”
“All right,” Mason said, “that’s what you are willing to advise your client to do. Now, how much higher will your client go?”
“No higher,” Banner said. “That’s absolutely tops. We don’t do horse-trading around this office, Mason.”
“I take it then I either accept that or reject it — in the event I become counsel for Mrs. Hastings.”
“Well,” Banner said thoughtfully, “we wouldn’t want to slam any doors in each other’s faces, of course, but that’s as high as I’m prepared to advise my client to go... You haven’t talked with Mrs. Hastings yet?”
“Not yet,” Mason said.
“She’s a very charming young woman,” Banner said. “She makes a wonderful impression.”
“And wears well?” Mason asked.
“And wears well. She’s just all right, that girl. I’m terribly sorry her marriage didn’t click.”
“How long has it been in existence?”
“Around eighteen months.”
“Why did it break up?” Mason asked.
Banner shrugged his shoulders. “Why does a man get bald? Why does his hair turn gray?”
“Is it mutual or one-sided?” Mason asked.
“Now look,” Banner said, “I don’t want to be quoted on this, but Hastings had been married twice before. His first marriage was ideal. His wife died. He became lonely. He looked back on that first marriage and forgot all the bickering, all the little, everyday nagging things that happen in a marriage and remembered only the rosy glow.
“So Hastings married again. He didn’t realize his first happiness hinged upon the personality of his wife. He began to think that because he had been so happy before it must have been the state of matrimony rather than the personality of the woman. So he tried this second marriage. That marriage just didn’t work. It ended in a divorce. Then after a while Hastings got lonely again and married Adelle. That was his third marriage. Adelle was his secretary. She was sympathetic, kind and considerate.
“The only reason Hastings wasn’t happy was because he wasn’t happy. I don’t think he knows the reason and I’m sure I don’t.”
“So Adelle Hastings said she was consulting me?” Mason asked.
“That’s right. She telephoned the office. I was out. She talked with my secretary, said she had driven in from Las Vegas and was going to put her affairs in your hands.”
“I’m rather an unusual choice for a lawyer in a divorce settlement,” Mason said. “Mostly my practice concerns crimes of violence and things of that sort.”
“I know, I know, but nevertheless you’re a glamorous figure and any lawyer who can make a spectacular success out of murder cases can handle divorce settlements with one hand tied behind him.
“I’m going to be perfectly fair with you, Mason. When Elvina told me that you were going to be representing Adelle I gave a little inward shudder.”
“Elvina?” Mason asked.
“Elvina Mitchell, my secretary.”
“I see,” Mason said. “Well, I guess I’ll be in touch with you a little later on then... Care to comment on the amount of property involved?”