Mason nodded, said, “She’ll join me there. Hold the fort, Stella, and play it by ear. Keep in touch with Paul Drake... Better have your meals sent up to the room for at least twenty-four hours. If you leave the room they may bug it.”
She said, “I can get by all right now. What about the switchboard?”
“You’ll have to take a chance on that,” Mason said. “But don’t scatter information around like birdseed. Be cryptic when you call your office, but be sure you get the idea across.”
She nodded.
The lawyer left Room 767, walked down to 789, picked up his suitcase and that of Diana Douglas, and called the desk for a boy to assist him.
“Please ask the cashier to have my bill ready,” Mason told the desk clerk. “I’ve received an unexpected longdistance call and I’ve got to leave at once.”
Mason waited until the boy arrived, gave him the bags and a tip, hurried down to the cashier’s desk, and explained the situation. “I’m Mr. Mason in Room Seven-eighty-nine. I wanted to stay for a day or two, but I’ve received a call which makes it imperative that I leave at once. Now, what can we do about the room? I’ve only been in it a short time. I’ve used a couple of towels, but the bed hasn’t been occupied.”
The cashier shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mason, but we’re going to have to charge you for one full day.”
Mason made a point of protesting the charge. “But you can put in two new towels and rent the room again.”
“I’m sorry, but maid service is cut down at this time of the afternoon and — well, we have a rule, Mr. Mason. I’m sorry.”
“All right,” the lawyer yielded. “Give me the bill.”
He paid in cash, nodded to a bellboy, said, “I want a taxi.”
“There’s one right outside,” the boy said.
Mason gave the boy a good tip, settled himself in the cushions of the taxicab, said in a loud voice, “Take me to the Union Station. Take it easy because I’ve got a couple of telegrams to read and I want to catch the train to Tucson.”
Suddenly Mason, folding the papers which he had taken from his pocket, said, “Hold everything, driver. That telegram really does it.”
“You don’t want the station?” the driver asked.
“Hell, no,” Mason said, “I’ve simply got to get the plane that leaves for Phoenix and Tucson, so get me to the airport just as fast as you can.”
“It’s a bad time of day to hit the airport.”
“I can’t help it, we’ll do the best we can.”
“When’s your plane due out?”
“Five forty-eight,” Mason said.
The cab driver threaded his way through traffic, found a through boulevard, and started making time.
Mason sat forward on the edge of the seat, looking at his watch from time to time, occasionally complimenting the cab driver on the time he was making.
The lawyer got to the airport. The cabby honked the horn for a porter.
Mason whipped the door open, said to the porter, “Get those two suitcases on the plane for Tucson.”
The lawyer handed the cab driver a ten-dollar bill. “Get going, buddy, before some cop catches up with you. That was a swell ride.”
The driver grinned. “This is all for me?”
“Pay the meter and the rest is yours,” Mason said.
The driver threw the car into gear.
When he was out of earshot, Mason hurried after the porter.
“I made a mistake,” he said, “I was thinking about Tucson. Darn it, I want to get in one of those suitcases. Let me have them.” Mason handed the porter a couple of dollars.
“You’ve got your plane ticket?” the porter asked.
“I’ve got it,” Mason said.
The lawyer went into the waiting room and made a quick survey; then went to the airline counter, picked up one of his tickets, paid for both, checked in Diana’s baggage, then walked down to survey the waiting room again. Following this, he strolled casually around, then settled himself comfortably after checking the dummy suitcase in a storage receptacle, and bought a drink.
Five minutes before departure time the lawyer walked in a leisurely manner to the gate and presented his ticket.
“You’ll have to hurry,” the attendant told him. “The last of the passengers is getting aboard now.”
“I’ll walk right along,” Mason promised.
Mason walked through the door, signaled to the guard, and got aboard the plane just before the portable passageway was pulled back into place.
The hostess at the door looked at him chidingly. “You almost didn’t make it,” she said.
Mason smiled. “I almost didn’t, but it’s too hot to hurry.”
“There’s a seat toward the rear.”
“Thank you.”
Mason walked the length of the plane, glancing at the faces of the passengers.
After ten or fifteen minutes he walked forward to the lavatory and again took an opportunity to study the faces of the passengers on the plane.
Diana Douglas was not on board.
Mason rode to San Francisco on the plane, took a taxi to a hotel, registered, had dinner, then called the Willatson Hotel, asked for Room 767, and when he heard Stella Grimes’ cautious voice on the telephone said, “Recognize the voice, Stella?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“San Francisco. Did you hear anything from your double?”
“Not a word.”
“She was to have taken the same plane I did, but she didn’t show up. She didn’t leave any message with you?”
“Not a word. I haven’t heard a thing.”
“Anything from anybody else?”
“Nothing.”
Mason said, “I think we’ve been given a complete runaround on this case, Stella. I’ll keep my appointment at ten-thirty tomorrow morning and if nothing happens then we’ll wash our hands of the whole business.”
“Okay by me. Do I report to you if anything happens?”
“Keep in touch with your employer and I’ll contact him. Do you still have your working bra?”
“I have it.”
“Keep it,” Mason said, “and sleep tight.”
9
The Escobar Import and Export Company had its offices in the United Financial Building.
Mason found from the registry list that the firm had offices on the sixth floor, then retreated to a point near the door where he could watch the people coming in.
The time was 10:20.
At 10:25 Diana Douglas walked through the door.
Mason stepped forward. “Where were you last night?”
She raised tear-swollen eyes; then clutched at his arm as though she needed his physical as well as his mental help.
“Oh, Mr. Mason,” she said, “Edgar passed away at three twenty-five this morning.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mason said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?”
“A lot. I was very, very fond of him.”
She suddenly buried her head against Mason’s shoulder and started to cry.
Mason patted her back. “Now, don’t let yourself go, Diana. Remember we have a job to do. You’ll have to get your chin up and face the facts.”
“I know,” she sobbed, “but I... I just don’t feel that I can take it... If it hadn’t been that I’d promised you I’d meet you here I... I wanted to telephone Homer Gage and tell him not to expect me. I...”
“There, there,” Mason said, “we’re attracting a lot of attention, Diana. Move over here to the corner and try to get control of yourself. You’ve got a job to do. You’re going to have to go up and face the music.”
“How much music?”
“Lots of music.”
“What do you mean?”
Mason said, “I’m afraid you’re being sucked into a game which is as old as the hills. Someone embezzles a thousand dollars from a company and skips out. Somebody else, who knows what has been going on, calmly reaches in and takes another four thousand out of the till. The man who has absconded with the one thousand dollars gets credit for having embezzled five thousand.”