“Where does he live? Do you know?”
“Las Vegas, Nevada.”
“Do you have the address?”
“No. As a friend of the family, I’d hardly have that.”
“Does this daughter ever visit him, or does he ever visit her?”
“I believe Glamis does see something of him. I think she visits him in Las Vegas. However, Mr. Mason, I can tell you very positively all this has nothing to do with what I want to find out. I want to know about Nancy’s past, what there is in it which could possibly cause her to pay blackmail.”
“There might be many things,” Mason said drily.
The man shook his head. “You don’t know Nancy. If someone raked up a purple chapter out of her past, Nancy would simply laugh it off. She’d admit it and even furnish more details — and she’d get away with it. She’s that type: vital, magnetic, unconventional.
“But this thing, whatever it is, has her worried sick. I can’t imagine what it could be unless it’s a — well, a murder.”
“You think it might be that?” Mason asked.
“I can’t think of anything else that would cause her such concern as this has.”
Mason said, “Well, I’ll see what I can find out. I will, of course, have to use a detective agency — you suggested that.”
His visitor nodded. “You have a good private detective, Mr. Mason, one you use and can trust?”
“I do. The Drake Detective Agency here in the building, with offices on the same floor. I’ll call in Paul Drake and start him working.”
The man looked at his watch. “I’ve taken up more than the time you allotted, Mr. Mason. I am sorry. I’ll be on my way.”
He got to his feet.
“You wouldn’t care to meet Paul Drake?” Mason asked. “He might have some questions.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Mason. Some other time, perhaps, but all Mr. Drake needs to do is to check into the past of Nancy Gilman, find out everything he can about her and, if possible, find out why she should be afraid of a blackmailer.”
“You’re satisfied she’s being blackmailed?”
“I’m virtually positive.”
“Does her husband know?”
“Heavens, no.”
“Can you tell me something about the house they live in?”
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that important?”
“Just a general description of the place,” Mason said.
“Well, it’s a big, rather old-fashioned, three-story house. It has a large attic, I understand, although I haven’t been up there.”
“A basement?”
“Oh, yes. One that’s used for a furnace and air-conditioning unit. Mr. Gilman has a workshop at the back of the house where he does woodwork for a hobby. He has some lathes and saws and likes to make little jewel cases for his friends, and then there’s a darkroom adjoining this workshop where Nancy does her developing and enlarging.”
“Rather a large building in back?”
“Yes. It was made for a three-car garage and living quarters for a chauffeur.”
“Well, thank you very much,” Mason said. “We’ll get at it. You don’t want me to try to get in touch with you no matter what happens, is that right?”
“It might prove embarrassing. I’ll be in touch with you, Mr. Mason.”
“So far, Mr. Carter,” Mason said, “you haven’t presented any problem that calls for the services of an attorney. You have only asked for information which could be gathered by a private detective. I think it would be much better for you to go to Mr. Paul Drake and retain him as a detective. There’s no use retaining an attorney simply to get information which, in the long run, will have to be supplied by a private detective anyway.”
“No, no,” the man said hastily, “you don’t understand me. I want you as an attorney.”
“Just what do you want me to do as an attorney?”
“I want you to represent... well, I want you to represent the family.”
“The family?”
“Yes. All of the family.”
“Who, in particular?”
“Nancy Gilman, Carter Gilman, Muriell Gilman and Glamis Barlow.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Suppose they should have conflicting interests?”
“They won’t have.”
“But suppose they should have?”
“Then you are at liberty to withdraw from the case and keep the retainer I have given you.”
“Suppose some member of the family should have interests that conflict with yours?”
“They won’t.”
Mason said abruptly, “Mr. Gilman has this workshop back of the house adjoining the darkroom, a shop where he does woodworking?”
“That’s right. He also does clay modeling.”
“And you’re visiting there?”
“Yes.”
“Do you own any part of the material in that workshop?”
“No, of course not. I own nothing there. I am simply a visitor, a friend of the family.”
“And as a friend you want to retain me to represent the family?”
“In case anyone in the family needs representation, but primarily I want you to find out what it is in Nancy Gilman’s past that would lay her open to blackmail.”
Mason said, “That’s a very unusual request and I’ll give you a very unusual answer, Mr. Carter.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to pay me the retainer of seven hundred and fifty dollars. In addition to that, I want you to assign to me all your right, title and interest, whatever it may be, to any of the contents of the workshop in the garage building as those contents exist at the present time or existed any time during the day.”
“But that’s absurd, Mr. Mason. I’ve told you I don’t own anything in that workshop.”
“Nevertheless,” Mason said, “that is the only condition on which I can undertake to represent you in the matter.”
“Will you kindly tell me why in the name of reason you have put such a price on your services?”
“If you don’t own anything there,” Mason said, “it isn’t a price. I am simply asking you to sign over all of your right, title and interest to anything that is in there. If you don’t have any right, any title or any interest, you aren’t signing over anything.”
“Are you trying to trap me or trick me, Mr. Mason?”
“Certainly not,” Mason said. “I am trying to protect myself.”
“Can you tell me one good reason why I should do that?”
“Can you tell me one good reason why you shouldn’t?” Mason asked.
“Look here, Mr. Mason, I simply must have your services. I want to have the assurance that, no matter what happens, you will protect that family, each and every member of that family. If you find their interests come in conflict you may withdraw... but I want you to be certain that there is a real conflict, not just an apparent conflict. I want you to do everything you can for every member of that family because I think perhaps they are going to go through some critical times.”
Mason said, “I understand. I want a seven-hundred-and-fifty-dollar retainer and I want you to assign to me all of your right, title and interest in and to all of the contents of the workshop.”
“Very well,” the man said angrily, “prepare your assignment. I’ll sign it. You leave me no choice in the matter.”
Mason nodded to Della Street, said, “Take a bill of sale, Della, and make it out for Mr. Carter to sign.”
Della Street took one of the forms, vanished from the office, returned in a few moments and handed the form to Mason’s visitor.
The man signed “Edward Carter” in a bold vertical handwriting.
“Sign as a witness, Della,” Mason said.
Della Street signed as a witness.
“Now, I’m not to get in touch with you,” Mason said. “You’re going to get in touch with me?”