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“You’re lucky that’s all of the charges that were made against you,” Mason said.

“Yes,” she said. “Dorrie was considerate there. I misunderstood the witnesses for a moment, or rather I think they all misunderstood Dorrie. She evidently said ‘This is not a stick-up,’ but when the witnesses identified me, two of them said that I had brandished a gun and said ‘This is a stick-up’ and I didn’t deny it until afterwards, when I had my hearing in court this morning. By that time my attorney had unearthed witnesses who had heard what was said and remembered it accurately. I think that was one of the big facts in my favour.”

Mason said, “I’m going to put it right up to you fairly and frankly: Did you put an ad in the paper asking for a young woman who—”

“Oh, bosh and nonsense, Mr. Mason,” she said. “Don’t be a sap. Dorrie Ambler put that ad in the paper herself. Then she went out and got a detective agency to front in the case. She would give them instructions over the telephone at an unlisted number and had everything all managed so that quite naturally she would be the one who was selected for the job. It was an elaborate job of window-dressing.”

“And the detective agency will then defeat it all by showing that she was the person who was back of it all?”

“The detective agency is not in a position to do any such thing,” she said. “I’ve tried to uncover it without any success. The detective agency simply knows that they were hired on a cash basis to screen applicants; that they were given photographs and told that whenever any woman bore a really striking resemblance to those photographs she was to be tentatively hired.”

“And the photographs were of you?” Mason asked.

“The photographs were not of me,” she said, “although they might well have been. Actually, and that is where Dorrie Ambler made a fatal mistake, she couldn’t get photographs of me so she had to use some of herself. While I have had many news photographs taken, she wanted portrait photos of front and side views and she had to have them in a hurry.

“It would have attracted attention if a woman who looked so much like me had either solicited photographs of me or tried to get someone else to procure them. It was much more simple to go to a photographer and have the shots taken that she wanted.”

“All of this must have taken a certain amount of money,” Mason said.

“Of course it took a certain amount of money,” she said. “I don’t know who’s financing her, but I have an idea it’s some very crooked, very clever Las Vegas businessman.

“And furthermore, I don’t think Dorrie Ambler entered the picture under her own power, so to speak. I think that this confidence man or promoter got to nosing around and found her in Nevada and got her to come here and take this apartment, to settle down here just as if she were an average young woman planning on living here. Then instead of coming out and trying to make a claim against the money I had inherited and putting herself in a position where she’d be carrying the burden of proof, they were smart enough to think up a whole series of situations in which I would be the one that was on the defensive and it would suit the convenience of the newspapers to play up the startling resemblance. That would get her case against me off to a flying start.”

“The hit-and-run?” Mason asked.

“I’m not prepared to say about the hit-and-run,” Minerva said. “That may have been accidental. But she was teamed up with crooks. You know that because the car was stolen.”

“It was her idea,” Mason said dryly, “that perhaps you’d been the one to hit this man in the hit-and-run accident and had used her as a cover-up.”

Minerva Minden laughed. “Now, isn’t that a likely story,” she said. “Don’t tell me that you fell for that one, Mr. Mason.

“The pay-off, of course, is that the accident took place in a stolen car. I am not the possessor of a completely untarnished reputation, Mr. Mason. My driving record is fairly well studded with citations and I would dislike to have to acknowledge another traffic accident. However, I think you will agree that the idea that I would be driving a stolen car is just a little far-fetched.

“And,” Minerva Minden went on, “the man who was found fatally wounded in Dorrie Ambler’s apartment was the detective who had assisted her in putting her swindle across, a member of the firm of Billings and Compton. The dead man was Marvin Billings. His death will seal his lips so he can’t testify against her. I make no accusations, but you must admit his death is quite fortunate.

“I’m not any plaster saint. I’ve been in lots of scrapes in my time and to be perfectly frank with you I expect to be in a lot more before I retire from active life. I want life, I want adventure, I want action, and I intend to get all three.

“I’m given to the unconventional in every sense of the word and in all of its various forms, but I am not given to stealing, I am not given to murder, and I don’t have to use stolen cars to take me where I’m going.”

Mason said, “Have you ever been operated on for appendicitis, Miss Minden?”

“Appendicitis? No, why?”

“This is very unconventional,” the lawyer said, “but it happens to be important. Would you mind turning your back to me and letting Miss Street look to see if there’s a scar on your abdomen?”

The girl laughed. “Why must I be so modest? Good heavens, you’d see that much of me in a bikini. If you think it’s important, take a look.”

She got up, faced them, pulled up her blouse, loosened her skirt, slipped it far down and stretched out the skin over the place where a scar would have been.

“Satisfied?” she asked. “Feel the skin if you want.”

Before Mason could answer, the door from the outer office burst open explosively, and Lt. Tragg hurried into the room.

“Well, well, well,” he said, “what is this — a strip tease?”

Minerva Minden said, “Mr. Mason wanted to check to see if I had had an operation for appendicitis.”

“I see,” Tragg said. “Now that we’re all here I’ll ask your pardon for having kept you waiting. I want to ask a few questions.”

“What questions do you want to ask?” Minerva Minden inquired, adjusting her clothing.

“In your case,” Lt. Tragg said, “quite frankly, Miss Minden, I wanted to ask questions about a murder and you may be the prime suspect. I feel I should warn you.”

“If you want to interrogate me about a murder case,” she said, “and there’s any possibility that I am going to be a suspect, I will have to ask you to interrogate my attorney and get your facts from him.”

“And your attorney?” Tragg asked.

Minerva Minden turned to Perry Mason with a slow smile. “My attorney,” she said, “is Mr. Perry Mason. I believe you were told by my secretary and manager, Henrietta Hull, Mr. Mason, that you were at the top of the list as potential counsel in the event of any serious charge being made against me.”

Tragg turned to Mason. “You’re representing her, Mason?”

“I am not,” Mason said vehemently. “I’m representing Dorrie Ambler, and there’s a very distinct conflict of interest. I couldn’t represent Minerva Minden even if I wanted to.”

“Now, that’s not a very chivalrous attitude, Mr. Mason,” Minerva Minden said. “What’s more, it’s not a very good business attitude. I am perfectly willing to let you represent Miss Ambler in any way that you want to in connection with any claims to an inheritance, but I am quite certain Lieutenant Tragg will assure you that in case any murder charges are to be pressed against me—”