Mason said, “That’s something I don’t have to worry about. After she’s arrested, she can get a copybook, sit down and write ‘honesty is the best policy’ five hundred times.”
“It’ll be too late then,” Della Street pointed out.
Mason arose and started pacing the floor. “If it weren’t for two things,” he said at length, “I’d question the accuracy of Tragg’s conclusions.”
Della Street, knowing the lawyer wanted an excuse to think out loud, said, “What things, Chief?”
“First,” Mason said, “we know that our client has been scheming up bizarre situations to attract publicity. We know she wanted to do something to make the newspapers publicize the resemblance between her and Minerva Minden.”
“And the second thing?” Della asked.
“The dog,” Mason said. “Dogs don’t make mistakes. Therefore our client was alive, well, and navigating under her own power long after the supposed abduction.
“I guess, Della, we’re going to have to accept the fact that Miss Dorrie Ambler decided to use me as a pawn in one of her elaborate schemes and then something happened that knocked her little schemes into a cocked hat.”
“What?” Della Street asked.
“Murder,” Mason said. “Billings was a detective with an unsavory reputation. Those on the inside who knew the game, knew he’d blackmail a client if the opportunity presented itself.”
“And so?” Della asked.
“So,” Mason said, “realizing now Dorrie was merely trying to inveigle me into her scheme, knowing that she overreached herself, that she was perfectly free to call me long after her supposed abduction and didn’t do so, I can wash my hands of her. I’m certainly glad you didn’t walk into the trap of accepting that retainer, Della. As matters now stand, we did one piece of work for her and owe her nothing... Now, thanks to a little dog, I can quit worrying. Let’s get back to that pile of mail.”
Chapter Ten
Della Street, entering from the outer office, paused in front of Perry Mason’s desk. When the lawyer looked up she said, “I hate to do this to you, Chief.”
“What?” Mason asked.
“It’s been ten days since Dorrie Ambler disappeared,” Della Street said, “and you’ve managed to forget about it and get yourself back to a working schedule.”
“Well?” Mason asked.
“Now,” she said, “Henrietta Hull is in the outer office, waiting — impatiently.”
“What does she want to see me about?”
“The police have picked up Minerva Minden. Henrietta Hull says she’s not certain of the charge against her but she was told they were going to question her in connection with that murder.”
Mason shook his head. “I’m representing Dorrie...”
Della Street raised inquiring eyebrows as Mason’s voice trailed off into silence.
For some ten or fifteen seconds the lawyer was silent, then abruptly he said, “Bring her in, Della. I want to talk with her.”
Della Street nodded, left the office and a few moments later returned with Henrietta Hull striding along in her wake.
“Mrs. Hull,” Della Street announced.
“We’ve met,” Henrietta Hull said, marching across to Mason’s desk, giving him a firm grip with a bony hand, then seating herself in the client’s chair.
“I told you, Mr. Mason, that you were at the top of our list on felony cases.”
“And?” Mason asked, prompting her as she hesitated.
“Minerva has been taken into custody.”
“Arrested?”
“I don’t think so. They picked her up at three o’clock this morning to take her in for questioning. She hasn’t returned and she hasn’t telephoned.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Accept a retainer of twenty thousand dollars, go ahead and represent her.”
“She is being questioned in connection with the murder of that man who was found in Apartment — Marvin Billings?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that they told her they wanted her to answer some questions in connection with a murder, that it was quite important.”
“She rebelled at going with them at that hour in the morning?”
Henrietta Hull said, “As a matter of fact, she didn’t. They evidently had been waiting for her. She was just getting in.”
“Unescorted?” Mason asked.
“Unescorted.”
“You were up at the time?”
“No. She left me a note explaining things. They let her do that. She said she would telephone. If I didn’t hear from her by nine o’clock this morning, I was to go to you and give you a check for twenty thousand dollars as a retainer.”
“You can write checks on her account?”
“Certainly. I’m her manager.”
Henrietta Hull calmly opened her purse, took out a tinted oblong of paper, glanced at Della Street and said, “I presume your secretary takes the fees.”
“That’s the check?” Mason asked.
“Twenty thousand dollars,” she said.
“I have tried to explain to you,” Mason said, “that I have represented Dorrie Ambler and I’m afraid there is going to be a conflict of interest.”
“You were only retained by Dorrie Ambler to keep her from being a Patsy, a fall guy, to use what is, I believe, the proper slang,” Henrietta Hull said. “You gave her the advice she wanted and she left your office.
“For your information, Mr. Mason, Dorrie Ambler is a fraud and a cheat. She lied to you all the way through. You don’t owe her anything. The young woman was an opportunist blackmailer. You definitely do not want to be tied up with her.”
Abruptly Paul Drake’s code knock sounded on the door of the private office.
Mason said, “Excuse me a moment,” crossed the office, opened the door a crack and said, “I’m busy, Paul. Can it wait?”
Drake said, “It can’t wait.”
Mason hesitated a moment.
“Come in,” he said. “You’ve met Mrs. Hull.”
Drake entered the office, said, “Oh... hello. I don’t want to interrupt, Mrs. Hull. However, it’s necessary that I give Mr. Mason some information — at once.”
Henrietta Hull said, “How do you do, Mr. Drake. I was going to drop in to see you as soon as I had finished with Mr. Mason, or perhaps I should say, as soon as he had finished with me. I explained to you that I keep a list of people to whom I should turn in the event of serious trouble.
“Mr. Mason heads the list of attorneys in connection with felony cases, and your agency heads the list as an investigating agency, particularly in cases where Mr. Mason acts as counsel.
“I have just given Mr. Mason a check as a retainer and I have here in my purse a check made out to you for twenty-five hundred dollars as retainer.”
“Now, just a minute,” Mason interrupted. “Miss Minden was picked up this morning for questioning. That’s about all you know about it. It was questioning in connection with a murder. She hasn’t communicated with you and apparently you haven’t communicated with the police or the prosecutor in order to find out what has happened, yet you have made out checks totaling twenty-two thousand, five hundred dollars and are seeking to retain counsel for her and a detective agency to investigate facts.”
“That’s right.”
“You say that you are following instructions given to you in a note by Miss Minden?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have that note with you?”
“Actually I have.”
“I think I’d like to see it,” Mason said.
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Can I be assured that the contents will be confidential if I show it to you, Mr. Mason?”
Mason shook his head.
Drake said, “I want to talk with you alone, Perry.”