“You’re hearing it now.”
“What’s my duty?”
“I don’t know what it is,” Mason said. “I’m not telling you what it is. My client made a discovery. She discovered some evidence in a case that has been bothering the postal authorities. I told her it was her duty to report what she had found. She’s reported it.”
“Thereby putting me in something of a spot,” Chester said.
“That,” Mason told him, “is something we can’t control. We’ve told you what we found. We had a duty to do that. That duty has now been discharged.”
Inspector Chester turned to Norda Allison. “You are quite certain this was a printing press?”
“Of course it was a printing press.”
“You saw it plainly?”
“I saw it, I felt it, I touched it.”
“And you think it had been used?”
“Of course it had been used.”
“Recently?”
“It had been used for printing my name and address on those envelopes. If you don’t believe me, how do you account for the fact that I have two of the stamped envelopes which bear uncanceled stamps with my name and address printed on them and that they’re identical with the envelopes which were sent me through the mail?”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m asking questions. Do you have any evidence which would indicate the press had been used recently?”
“The ink was still moist on it. That is, still sticky.”
“How do you know?”
“I touched the tip of my finger to it and then pulled the finger away. The ink was sticky and my finger tip was black.”
“How did you clean it?”
“I opened my purse, took some cleansing tissue from a little package I carried and scrubbed my finger off.”
“What did you do with the tissue?”
“It’s still in the purse, I guess. I didn’t want to just throw it down on the floor. I must have put it back in my purse, intending to throw it away as soon as I had an opportunity.”
She opened her purse, fumbled around inside, then triumphantly produced a crumpled piece of cleansing tissue. There were black smears on the paper and Inspector Chester took possession of it.
“Well,” he said, “I’m going out and ask Mr. and Mrs. Jennings if they care to make a statement. I’m going to ask them if they object if I take a look around — not that that will do any good because I understand you’ve already convinced yourselves the press isn’t there.”
“The press certainly isn’t where it was when I saw it,” Norda Allison said firmly.
Inspector Chester got to his feet. “Well, I’ll go look around.”
“Will you let us know if you find anything?” Mason asked.
The inspector smiled and shook his head. “I report to my superiors.”
“But Miss Allison is an interested party,” Mason said.
“All the more reason why I shouldn’t report to her,” Chester said, shaking hands with Mason and bowing to Norda Allison. “Thanks for the information. I’ll check on it.”
“Now what?” Norda Allison asked when Inspector Chester had left.
“Now,” Mason said, “we do a little checking of our own.” He turned to Della Street. “Please ring the Drake Detective Agency and ask Paul Drake to come in.”
Della nodded, went to the outer office and a moment later returned to say, “Drake said to tell you he’s coming right away.”
Mason said, by way of explanation to Norda Allison, “You talked with him. He’s a very competent detective.”
“I know. He’s nice. That’s how I got in touch with you. I—”
She broke off as Paul Drake’s code knock sounded on the corridor door of Mason’s private office.
Della Street opened the door. Paul Drake, tall, informal, loose-jointed, said, “Hi, Della,” flashed Norda Allison a keen glance of professional appraisal, said, “How is everything, Miss Allison?” and then turned to Mason.
“Sit down, Paul,” Mason invited.
Drake sat crosswise in the big overstuffed chair; one of the rounded arms propping up his back, his long legs draped over the other arm.
“Shoot.”
“You’re familiar with Norda Allison’s story?”
“Up to the time she came in to see you this morning. What’s happened since then?”
Mason told him.
“What do you want me to do?” Drake asked.
“Get on the job,” Mason said. “Get out there and see whether the postal authorities are going to let Mr. and Mrs. Jennings give them a routine run-around, whether they’re taking Norda Allison’s story seriously and if they’re making a search of the place.
“Visit around with the neighbors. Pretend you’re getting magazine subscriptions or selling books or something of the sort at first. See if you can get some of the women gossiping.”
“They’ll throw a magazine salesman or a book salesman out on his ear so fast that—”
“All right,” Mason said. “Tell them you’re going to give away a free vacuum cleaner to families who represent the highest intellectual strata. Tell them it’s sort of a house-to-house quiz show; that you’re asking questions and you give a rating and that the person having the highest rating in the block gets a free vacuum cleaner or a set of dishes or something. Then ask questions to test their powers of observation. After a few routine questions you can start asking about the people next door.”
Paul Drake shook his head. “You might be able to work a stunt like that, Perry. I couldn’t Each man has to shoot his own particular brand of ammunition — is there any reason I shouldn’t tell them I’m a detective?”
Mason thought that over for a moment, then said, “No, but they’ll freeze up on you as soon as they think you’re a detective, won’t they?”
“If I try to pump them they will,” Drake said. “But let me get talking to the average housewife and tell her I’m a detective and right away she wants to know what I’m doing out there. Then I act mysterious and tell her it’s something in the neighborhood. Then she invites me in, gives me a cup of tea or coffee, I get friendly with her, let it slip that it’s the people next door I’m interested in, and then become very embarrassed at having let the information slip out. I make her promise she won’t tell, and, as consideration for that promise, she insists that I tell her what it’s all about and I start sparring, trying to keep from telling her and she’s cross-examining me. I get in a few questions here and there. The first thing anyone knows she’s told me all she knows, all she surmises, and has given me all the neighborhood gossip.”
“Be careful you don’t tell them anything that might serve as a basis for a suit for defamation of character,” Mason warned.
Drake grinned. “I’ve been using this technique for ten years, Perry. Once a woman opens up with the neighborhood gossip she’ll never repeat anything I say because I’ll have her so badly involved she won’t dare to peep.”
“And then if she denies it?” Mason asked.
“Then,” Drake said, “I have a little recording device which looks like a hearing aid. I pretend I’m hard of hearing and wear this counterfeit hearing aid. Of course, tactics like that don’t work all the time, but they work most of the time.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “Use your own technique. I want a couple of tails.”
“One to each?” Drake asked.
“One to each,” Mason told him.
Drake heaved himself up out of the chair. “On my way.”
Mason smiled across at Norda Allison. “Well, that’s the best I can do,” he said. “Now I’ll try getting back to that brief. Where are you staying?”
“The Millbrae Hotel.”
“We’ll call you if we learn anything,” Mason told her. “In the meantime don’t talk to anyone. If anyone calls on you or tries to pump you for information, say that I’m your attorney and am answering all questions.”