“Oh, no,” she said, “I was careful not to let them know that there was anything out of the ordinary.”
“Can you control your voice that well?”
“Oh, I think so. I was an actress in nearly all of the high-school plays and I did some work in college. They say I’m pretty darn good. I think probably I could have gone on professionally, only Daddy didn’t want me to.”
“You gave up your career for him?”
“It wasn’t a career, Mr. Mason. It might have led to a career, I don’t know. I guess every girl gets sort of stage-struck at one time or another if she has any natural aptitude, and they told me I had natural aptitude.”
“Who told you?”
“Oh, everyone — the dramatic coaches, the... I have quite a scrap-book, Mr. Mason. I know you’re altogether too busy to read it but I’m inordinately proud of it. I’ve got some really rave notices.”
“Now, when you went to the office,” Mason said, “why did you go there? Did you think someone was holding out on you over the telephone?”
“No. I wanted to talk with Tillie.”
“That’s your father’s secretary?”
“Yes. Tillie Norman.”
“Did you talk with her at that time?”
“No, she wasn’t there. But she called up while I was there and told the switchboard operator that she wouldn’t be in for about half an hour. She’d gone out on a coffee break and... well, she’s Daddy’s personal secretary and when he isn’t there, there isn’t much for her to do. So she did a little shopping and called the operator to find out if Daddy was in and to tell her she would be out for a while longer if Daddy wasn’t there.”
“And the operator told her you were there?”
“Yes.”
“So then what happened?”
“Well, I told the operator as soon as I heard her mention Tillie’s name that I wanted to speak with her — the operator knew I was looking for Tillie.”
“So what did you do?”
“I told Tillie that I was anxious to get in touch with Daddy, and she said that she was, too; that he hadn’t been in all day.”
“So then what?”
“Well, Tillie asked me if anything was wrong and I was a little guarded. I told her no, nothing in particular, but that I was very anxious to get in touch with him.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, Tillie said that she would come right up to the office and if I’d wait there that she’d postpone her shopping trip and talk with me.”
“So you waited?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“Well, Tillie came in and it was a good thing she did, for shortly after-ward Daddy called and asked for Tillie to give her some confidential instructions and Tillie told him I was there; and Daddy said, ‘Oh, good,’ that he had been trying to reach me at the house and told Tillie to put me on the phone without letting anyone know he was calling.”
“And then what?”
“Then Daddy told me that I was to go to your office, to get you and take you out to the house and give you his brief case, that you were to take the entire brief case and keep it in your office until he sent for it, that you were to take the agreements that were in the green Bristol-board folder out of the brief case and deliver those agreements to Mr. Calhoun.
“And Daddy told me that I was to talk with you going out and tell you absolutely everything that I knew about Daddy and the business and the background and about Mr. Calhoun and everything.”
“Anything about your stepmother?” Mason asked.
“No, he didn’t mention her name. Why? Is there anything about her?”
“I’m just trying to get your father’s instructions,” Mason said.
“Well, that’s the whole story, Mr. Mason, as nearly as I can tell you. Of course, there are lots of little things; if you’ll ask me questions I’ll try to answer them.”
Mason said, “Well, let me think this over for a while.”
He drove the automobile for some ten minutes in thoughtful silence. Then, just before they turned into Vauxman Avenue, Mason said, “Just a minute, I have one phone call to make.”
The lawyer stopped the car in front of a telephone booth at the curb by a service station, got out and called his office. “Let me talk with Della, Gertie,” he said when he had the office on the line.
Della Street’s voice, cool and competent, came over the wire. “Yes, Chief, what is it? I have a notebook and pencil here.”
Mason said, “It’s rather simple, Della. Call up the office of Gilman Associates Investment Pool in the Piedmont Building. Ask to talk to Mr. Gilman personally. Tell him you’re a widow with some funds to invest and you’d like to know something about their investment service.”
“Then what?” Della Street asked.
“Gilman won’t be in,” Mason said, “so then ask if there’s anyone who can tell you about making an appointment with Mr. Gilman. Ask if he has a secretary there.”
“And then?” Della asked.
“You have a good ear for voices,” Mason said. “When you get Mr. Gilman’s secretary on the line, get her name, find out who is talking. If it’s Miss Norman, give her a fictitious name and address, then go on and give her a song and dance about having some funds to invest and ask the secretary to describe the investment service.”
“And then what?”
“Then tell her you’ll think it over and hang up,” Mason said.
“Just what is it you want to know?” she asked.
“I want to know what Gilman’s secretary’s voice sounds like over the telephone.”
“So I can remember it again?”
“I think you’ll remember it as soon as you hear it,” Mason said. “Unless I’m chasing something up a blind alley, you’ll find that the voice of Matilda Norman, Carter Gilman’s private secretary, is the voice that assured us over the telephone she was Vera Martel, the detective.”
“Oh-oh,” Della Street said. “In other words, you’ve smoked something out?”
“There’s a lot of smoke,” Mason said. “I don’t know where the fire is just yet and I want to be careful I don’t get my fingers burned.”
“How’s your little friend Muriell?”
“Doing fine,” Mason said. “How did she impress you?”
“She’s sweet and... well, rather demure-looking.”
“For your information,” Mason said, “she’s a very accomplished actress and she’s had quite a bit of experience.”
“All right,” Della Street said, “I make this call. Then suppose the voice is that of Vera Martel, or rather the person who assured us she was Vera Martel; what do I do?”
“Just make an appointment,” Mason said, “and hang up. And, incidentally, it might be well for you to disguise your voice a little, Della, because we may be having some further conversations with Matilda Norman.”
“When do I do it?”
“Right away.”
“And you’ll be in touch with me later?”
“That’s right. I’ll telephone in for a report.”
Mason hung up, returned to the car and smiled at Muriell. “Well, Muriell,” he said, “I guess you’ll have to forgive a rough, tough trial lawyer for being a little suspicious. After all, the events of the day have been just a little mysterious.”
“I’ll say they have,” Muriell said, looking at him with wide brown eyes which radiated innocence, candor, and a certain concern.
“Now,” Mason said, “if your father should come home tonight it would be advisable if you just talked with him normally and naturally and didn’t tell him anything about my making that trip out to the house this morning or about you getting alarmed at his absence and calling me. Do you think you can do that?”
“Would it be for Daddy’s best interests?”
“I’m quite certain it would be for his best interests,” Mason said.