“I’m too mad to sit down.”
Mason said, “Stand up and tell me about it, then.”
She said, “Who’s Marilyn Marlow?”
“What about her?” Mason asked.
“Bob has gone for her, head over heels. She’s got some property. Bob thinks he can sink his grub hooks in that property and throw me overboard.”
“You’re certain?”
“Just as certain as I need to be. He’s been gallivanting around lately and I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not so dumb, even if I am a big blonde. I tailed along and found out where he was going. Then I gave him a piece of my mind when he finally got back home with the old story about being out on business. He tried to back it up and told me that it was business, that this Marlow girl had been using his magazine and that there were some legal difficulties and he had retained ‘a prominent lawyer’ to advise him and that the lawyer told him he’d better stick close to her and work out some sort of a settlement.”
“Your husband told you that?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re certain there’s no opportunity for a misunderstanding?”
“None whatever.”
Mason sighed, and said, “Mrs. Caddo, none of us is perfect. We all of us have our little faults. These are imperfections in character which range from the trivial to the serious, and none of us is free from them, but in addition to what other minor imperfections he may have, your husband is a liar and I would appreciate it if you’d tell him I said so.”
“Humph!” she said, quite evidently surprised at Mason’s frankness.
“And you are free to quote me on that,” Mason went on. “Tell your husband to come in and see me in case he feels aggrieved.”
She regarded Mason quizzically. “Say, I believe you’re regular. I came in here to throw inkwells, but you seem to be on the up-and-up. Who’s Rose Keeling?”
“Are there two women?”
“I don’t get the sketch,” she admitted. “I caught Bob off first base. I snitched a little red notebook he carries in his inside pocket. When he finds that’s gone, he’ll have a fit. He had two names in there, this Marilyn Marlow and Rose Keeling. This isn’t the first time and it isn’t going to be the last time. I know that I have to put up with a certain amount of that stuff, but believe you me, Mr. Mason, once I catch up with him I see that there isn’t any great amount of pleasure left in it for him. I’m a wildcat when I get started.”
Mason said, “Sit down and let’s discuss the matter. Do you think that being a wildcat, as you term it, buys you anything?”
Mrs. Caddo sank down in the big client’s chair and grinned at Perry Mason. “I know very well it does. That’s the way to handle Bob.”
“Of course,” Mason said, “all of these tirades, these fits of temper, gradually leave an indelible mark upon your character.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” she said wearily, “but just between you and me and the guidepost, Mr. Mason, I go through these tantrums just to protect my vested interests. They aren’t fits of temper. They’re an act.
“You see, Bob has piled up quite a little money in this racket of his. He’s smart enough to keep it where I can’t get my hands on it. I don’t mind too much if he philanders around a little, but I don’t want to have some little siren come along and then walk off with my share of the money. So whenever I think anything is getting serious, I raise Cain with Bob, then I find out who the woman is, and I certainly do put on an act with those women! And believe me, I’m good at that.”
“I dare say you are,” Mason said.
She said, “Well, I’m not going to take up any more of your time, Mr. Mason. It was nice of you to see me. You’ve been perfectly splendid about this. I came up here to make a scene and raise a rumpus in general, but somehow I don’t think it would have impressed you too much anyway. That’s the only thing that will hold Bob in line. He knows that about the time he gets to the gooey stage I’m going to come tearing along behind like a tornado and make everyone dig for the cyclone cellar. I knew this Marilyn Marlow wasn’t business, but it isn’t just a philandering proposition either. There’s something back of it all that I don’t like. I think Bob would like to pull a fast one there. Anyhow, I’m going to pay my respects to Marilyn Marlow and I’m going to call on Rose Keeling, and when I get done with those two women they’ll realize that crime doesn’t pay.”
Mason said, “I think, Mrs. Caddo, that perhaps this time it might be better just to work on your husband a little...”
“Nope,” she said determinedly, “it’s a system I’m playing, Mr. Mason. I don’t ever dare to vary it. The last time Bob did any philandering, I went up to the woman’s apartment, and I really wrecked the place. I tore her clothes off, blacked her eyes, smashed a mirror, just to give her bad luck for seven long years, and threw a few dishes around. The landlady came up and threatened to call the police and I told her to go ahead and call them and let it get put in the papers the sort of place she was running and the kind of tenants she had and the goings on that had been taking place there. Believe me, that put her in her place.
“After that I had the field all to myself and when I left, the landlady canceled the lease on the little tramp and I understand now she’s living in a dirty little bedroom and paying five times what it’s worth.
“Bob is a funny chap. He likes to play the wolf, but he hates a scene, and if I make enough of a scene it’s just like spanking a small kid. He shudders every time he thinks of the punishment... You’ve been perfectly grand, Mr. Mason. I’m glad now I didn’t slam the inkwells around. I was just going to sit out in the other office until I was certain you were in, and then I was going to push past that receptionist out there, march on in here and spread a little gloom around the place. I knew that would get back to Bob and I figured you’d make him pay for it. Well, thanks for seeing me, Mr. Mason. You’re a good sport.”
“I would respectfully suggest,” Mason said, “that in this particular instance you curtail your righteous indignation and refrain from calling on the two women whose names you have...”
"I’m sorry, Mr. Mason. I’m afraid you’re like Bob. I guess you don’t like a scene.”
“On the contrary,” Mason said, “I love them.”
“Boy, I’d like to have you along on this one,” Mrs. Caddo said. “It’s going to be a humdinger. Well, good-by. I guess I can get out this door all right... No, don’t get up. And do me one favor, Mr. Mason — if Bob asks if I was here, tell him I raised a row in the office and that you expect him to pay for the damages. Will you do that for me? No, I suppose you won’t. You’re truthful. But anyhow you’re nice and I know you’ll protect my confidence. Good morning.”
The door banged shut behind her.
Mason glanced at Della Street and said, “The joys of matrimony!”
“I don’t blame her a bit,” Della Street said. “You can take a look at Bob Caddo and see what he is. One of these old wolves that runs around pawing girls and trying to cut corners. She’s absolutely right. That’s the only way of holding him, and...”
“Get Marilyn Marlow on the phone,” Mason said wearily, “and I guess you’d better tell her to warn her friend, Rose Keeling, that I think a cyclone is on the way and it might be just as well if they weren’t available. I guess we owe that much to a client.”
“She’s going to be a client? You were to call her this morning.”
“That’s right. We’ll kill two birds with one phone call. I’ll tell her I’ll try and handle Rose Keeling for her and that an irate wife is on the warpath. I...”