“And this was handled in a partnership agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mrs. Prescott sign that partnership agreement?”
“Oh, yes. She signed it, and my wife signed it. It’s all drawn up legal and ship-shape. I’m surprised Mrs. Prescott didn’t tell you about that. Probably she didn’t fully understand it. And I presume she has plenty on her mind right now — tell me, do they actually have her in jail?”
“They’re detaining her,” Mason said.
“Well, it’s a damn shame — perhaps she doesn’t understand about this partnership agreement. You might explain it to her. This insurance isn’t part of the estate. The money will come to me and I’ll turn it over to Mrs. Prescott, accepting from her her release as to any right in the partnership assets.”
“Mind if I take a look at that agreement?” Mason asked.
“Not at all,” Wray said. “In fact, I’ve been rather anticipating you’d want to see it and have had Rosa dig it out of the safe.”
“Rosa the girl in the outer office?” Mason asked.
“Yes, Rosa Hendrix.”
“Been with you long?”
“Not very — four or five months. Very efficient and very attractive.”
Mason nodded and unfolded the legal-backed document which Wray handed him. After he had read it, he nodded and said, “That seems to be well drawn.”
“It is,” Wray assured him. “Counsel for the insurance company checked it over after our lawyer had drawn it.”
Mason said, “As I understand it, when you executed that agreement, you automatically froze the value of a one-half interest in this partnership as twenty thousand dollars. If the partnership assets were worth a great deal less that that, the surviving widow would, nevertheless, receive twenty thousand dollars. And if, on the other hand, the partnership assets should increase in value, the widow couldn’t possibly receive more than twenty thousand dollars.”
“We intended to take care of that by increasing the insurance in the event the partnership assets should show any sudden increase,” Wray explained.
“I see,” Mason observed. “Would you mind giving me an offhand estimate of the actual value of the partnership assets?”
Wray lowered his eyes, to stare at the surface of the desk for a few moments, then said, “Well, Mr. Mason, that’d be pretty hard to do.You see, this is a personal effort partnership. That is, we don’t have assets of the kind you’d have in a merchandising business, and—”
“I understand all that,” Mason interrupted, “but what I want to know is generally what would be a fair valuation of the partnership assets.”
“Why, whatever our good will’s worth,”
“What’s that worth?”
“Whatever we could count on taking in through our joint efforts.”
“Perhaps,” Mason told him, “I can get at it another way. Would you mind telling me how much you each took out of the business during the last year?”
Wray avoided Mason’s eyes, swung from his office chair and started for the safe. Halfway there, he changed his mind, turned around, came back to the desk, sat down and said, “I think we took out about six thousand apiece.”
“Each of you drew out six thousand dollars?”
“Around that, yes.”
“Then,” Mason said, “Walter Prescott couldn’t have put any money into the business.”
Wray suddenly smiled. His eyes met Mason’s, and he said, “Oh, that’s it. You’re wondering about that twelve thousand dollars Rosalind Prescott said she gave Walter to put in the business.”
Mason nodded.
Wray said, “To tell you the truth, Mr. Mason, she’s all wet on that. She didn’t put any money into this partnership.”
“Do you think she gave him twelve thousand dollars?”
“Well, it’s hard to say about that. If she says she did, then I’d be inclined to agree with her.”
“And if Walter said she hadn’t given him any money, would that change your views any?”
“That’s rather a tough question.”
“I know it is.”
“Well,” Wray said after a moment, “my answer stands.”
“In that event,” Mason asked, “what would Walter have done with the money?”
Wray laughed nervously. “Now you’re asking me to be something of a clairvoyant.”
“No,” Mason told him, “I’m not asking you to do anything more than make a guess.”
“I couldn’t guess.”
“How about women?”
“Oh, no,” Wray hastily assured him. “No women. Walter wasn’t that kind.”
“What makes you think he wasn’t?”
“You didn’t know him personally?”
“No.”
“Well,” Wray said, “if you’d known him, you’d realize what I mean. He was sort of — oh, sort of cold-blooded — gave you the impression of having ice water in his veins — more the bookkeeping type. He didn’t make friends readily and wasn’t much of a mixer. I brought in most of the business. I like to circulate around. Walter—”
He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone on his desk. Wray dove toward the receiver with an eager alacrity which showed he welcomed the interruption, said, “Hello,” then nodded to Mason and said, “It’s for you, Mr. Mason.” He passed the telephone over, and Mason said, “Hello,” heard Drake’s voice saying, “Okay, Perry, you win.”
“What do I win?” Mason asked.
“You win on hunches. I’ve done some fast work and located this Carl Packard under another name.”
“What’s the other name?” Mason asked.
“Jason Braun.”
“Brown?” Mason asked.
“No,” Drake said, “it’s B-r-a-u-n, Jason Braun.”
“Okay,” Mason said, “what about Jason Braun?”
“He disappeared about two weeks ago, had an apartment on West Thirty-fifth Street, a bachelor place with maid service, rent paid up in advance, a few friends, a speaking acquaintance with the landlady, subscription to the daily newspaper, a couple of girl friends who occasionally dropped in for a cocktail, and the usual background a young salesman would have.
“Then he vanished from sight. Newspapers piled up in front of the door. The bed hadn’t been slept in. Mail came and laid unclaimed in the box. A suit at the cleaners he’d been most anxious to have ready at a certain time wasn’t called for. One of the girl friends rang up the landlady, said he’d had a date with her and hadn’t kept it. She felt sure something must have happened to him. After talking with her, the landlady notified the police. The police found out that he’d taken his car from the garage, as usual, and disappeared. He’d told the landlady he was a salesman. No one seemed to know exactly what it was he was selling. The police tried to check back on him and came up against a blank wall. He wasn’t registered as a voter. They couldn’t find where he was employed. The theory of the police was that his employer would probably make a report if it was a genuine disappearance. When they didn’t hear anything further, they just let the matter drop. They have a complete file on the case at the Missing Persons Bureau.”
“How do you know that he’s the man we want?” Mason asked.