“And what about my baggage?”
“You’ll have to wait for that.”
“How will I get it out of the hotel? Don’t they check people when you leave with baggage?”
“Sure they do,” Mason said, “but we’ll fix that.”
“How?”
“I’ll rent a room here at the hotel. I’ll try to get one on the same floor. We’ll move your baggage into that room. Then I’ll check out, carrying the baggage with me, go right to the desk, and pay the bill on that room. They’ll have no way of knowing that one of the suitcases I’ll have with me was taken from Room Seven-sixty-seven.”
“And what about this girl who is going to masquerade as me?”
“She’ll deal with the blackmailer.”
“And if I’ve turned the money in for a cashier’s check, what will we pay him — or her?”
“We won’t,” Mason said. “It’s against the policy of the office to pay blackmailers.”
“But what are you going to do? How can you avoid payment?”
“I don’t know,” Mason told her. “We’ll play it by ear. I wish to hell your brother would regain consciousness so we could find out what it’s all about... Get your suitcase packed.”
Tears came to her eyes. “Edgar’s a wonderful boy, Mr. Mason.”
Mason said, “I’m going down to a baggage store and get a suitcase. I’ll stuff it full of old paper, come back, and check into the hotel — somewhere on the seventh floor, if possible. I want you to wait right here. Promise me you won’t go out until I get back.”
“I promise.”
“And don’t answer the phone,” Mason warned.
“I... all right, if you say so.”
“I say so,” Mason told her.
The lawyer walked to the door, turned, smiled, and said, “You’ll be all right, Diana.”
Her eyes started to blink rapidly. “You’re wonderful,” she said. “I wish I’d told you all about it when I first came to your office.”
“You can say that again,” Mason told her. “We might have headed off that damned auditor. As it is now, you’re hooked.”
“What do you mean?”
“Figure it out,” Mason said. “We’re starting a little late. You’ve come to Los Angeles, registered in a hotel under an assumed name. You have a bag containing five thousand dollars in currency. And if the company where you work should happen to be short five thousand dollars, and if your brother should happen to die, and if you’re arrested before you get that cashier’s check — figure where you’ll be.”
Mason walked out as her mouth slowly opened. He closed the door gently behind him.
6
The lawyer took the elevator to the lobby, went to a baggage store two doors down the street, selected a suitcase, paid for it; then he crossed to a secondhand bookstore.
“I’m looking for some books dealing with the history of early California and, particularly, with the discovery of gold,” he said.
The clerk led him to a shelf.
“Do you,” Mason asked, “have paperback books?”
“Oh, yes, we have quite a selection.”
“I also want to get some of those books for lighter reading,” Mason said. “I’ll pick out some.”
Ten minutes later Mason presented himself at the checking-out desk with an armful of books.
The cashier scanned the penciled prices marked on the title pages, gave Mason the total figure, $27.85.
“All right,” Mason said, “I’ll... why not put them in this suitcase?”
The clerk, his attention drawn to the suitcase, leaned forward to pick it up and make sure it was empty, then smiled and said, “That’s quite all right. Put them in there if you want.”
Mason put the books in the suitcase, paid the bill, walked back to the Hotel Willatson, said, “I’m going to be here probably overnight. I’d like to have a room somewhere above the fifth floor. I don’t like traffic noises.”
“I can let you have eleven-eighty-four,” the room clerk said, “if you’re only going to be here one night, Mister... uh...”
“Mason,” Perry Mason said. “I prefer to be a little lower than the eleventh floor. What have you got on the eighth?”
“We’re all taken up.”
“The seventh?”
“I have one room on the seventh floor — seven-eighty-nine. It’s a slightly larger room than our average and a little more expensive...”
“That’s all right,” Mason said, “I’ll take it. I’m likely to be here only one night.”
The lawyer registered, gave a bellboy a dollar to take his bag and escort him up to the room, waited until the bellboy had withdrawn; then put the room key in his pocket and walked down the hall to 767.
He tapped gently on the panels.
Diana Douglas opened the door.
“Mr. Mason,” she said, “I’ve been thinking over what you said. It’s — I’m afraid I’m in a terrible position.”
“It’ll be all right,” Mason told her, “I’ll take charge.”
“You’re going to — to need more than the money I gave you.”
“Unfortunately,” Mason said, “I spent a large amount of the money you gave me trying to check up on you and get back of the falsehoods you had told me. As it is now...”
The lawyer broke off as a knuckle tapped gently on the door.
Diana Douglas raised inquiring eyebrows.
Mason strode across the room, opened the door to confront an alert-looking young woman with blonde hair, blue eyes, and that something in her bearing which radiated competency and ability to look after herself under any circumstances.
The woman smiled at him and said, “I recognize you, Mr. Mason, but you probably don’t know me. I’m from — well, I’m Stella Grimes.”
“Come in, Stella,” Mason said.
The lawyer closed the door and said, “Stella, this is Diana Douglas. She’s registered here as Diana Deering. You’re going to take over.”
“Who am I?” Stella asked. “Diana Douglas or Diana Deering?... And how do you do, Diana. I’m pleased to meet you.”
“As far as the hotel is concerned you’re Diana Deering,” Mason said. “I’ll let you read an ad which appeared in the paper.”
Mason handed her a copy of the ad which Diana had inserted in the paper and which was signed “36-24-36.”
“I see, Mr. Mason,” Stella said, reading the ad carefully. Then she looked at Diana, looked at Perry Mason, and said, “Precisely what do I do?”
“You identify yourself here as Diana Deering,” Mason said. “You sit tight and await developments and you report.”
“Report on what?”
“On everything.”
“Can you give me any line on what is supposed to happen?” she asked. “I take it that I’m supposed to be here to make a cash payment. Suppose someone turns up and wants the cash?”
“Then you stall,” Mason said.
She nodded, took a card from her purse, scribbled something on it, and said, “You’ll probably want one of my cards, Mr. Mason.”
The lawyer took the card she had given him. On the back was scribbled, “I’ve seen her before. I was the operative in the taxicab with Paul Drake last night.”
Mason slipped the card in his pocket. “Exactly,” he said, “I’ll call you by name if I have to, but in the meantime I want you to impress upon the clerk that if someone calls and asks for you by the code numbers of thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six that the call is to be put through. You think you can make up a good story?”
“I can try,” she said.
“What do you have in the way of baggage?” Mason asked.
“Just this purse that I brought in with me. I was instructed not to attract attention by coming in with any more than this.”