“So then what?”
“Then,” she said, “I looked up the address of Billings and Compton Detective Agency and decided to go up there and ask for a showdown. I didn’t know just what I was getting into.”
“And what happened?” Mason asked.
“I never went in,” she said. “I... Well, something happened and I thought I saw the picture.”
“What was it that happened?”
“I drove my car up there. There’s a parking lot right next door to the building. I put my car in the parking lot and was just getting out when I saw my double.”
“Your what?”
“My double.”
“Now,” Mason said, “I’m beginning to get the picture. Just what did your double look like?”
“She looked exactly like me. She was dressed exactly the same way, and there was more than a superficial resemblance. It was really startling. She was my height, my build, my complexion, and of course since we were wearing identical clothes... well, I had to stop and do a double take. I thought I was looking at myself in the mirror.”
“And what was your double doing?”
“Standing in line, waiting for her car to be brought to her.”
“And what did you do?”
“I kept on doing detective work. I stopped my car and continued to sit in it and when the man gave me a parking ticket I just kept on sitting there until I saw her car being delivered and I got the licence number of her car, WBL 873.”
“So then you looked up the registration?” Mason asked.
“That’s right.”
“And the registration was Minerva Minden?”
“Right.”
“And then?” Mason asked.
“Well, then I reported for work the next day and I was told to go to another locality. This time it was Sunset and La Brea and I was to cross the street fifty times.”
“You did that?”
“Yes.”
“And the photographer was there?”
“Part of the time the photographer was there, part of the time he drove by in an automobile. Once I’m certain that he had a motion-picture camera in the automobile when he stopped and parked the car and took motion pictures of me.”
“And then what?”
“Then I called the unlisted number again and was told that my work was done for the day, that I could relax, have cocktails and dinner and that there would be no more calls on my time.”
“So what did you do?”
She said, “I came to the conclusion that I was being groomed for something and that I was going to be what you called a Patsy.”
“Perhaps Minerva Minden wants an alibi for something,” Mason said.
“I’ve thought of all that,” she said. “We’re not twins but there certainly is a startling resemblance. But wait until you hear what happened the next day.”
“Okay, what did happen?”
“So,” she said, “the next day I was told to go to Hollywood Boulevard and Western, that I was to cross the street, walk one block along Hollywood Boulevard, wait ten minutes, walk back, cross Western, then cross Hollywood Boulevard and go up the other side of the street; wait ten minutes, then come back down and retrace my steps. I was to keep that up at ten-minute intervals for two hours.”
“You did it?” Mason asked.
“I only did part of it.”
“What part?”
“About the third time — I think it was the third time I was making the trip up Hollywood Boulevard I passed a store and a little girl cried out, ‘Momma, there she is now!’ ”
“Then what happened?”
“A woman ran to the door and took a look at me and then suddenly dashed out of the store and started following me.”
“What did you do?”
“I walked up Hollywood Boulevard just as I had been instructed, and the photographer was there at the corner and took a picture of me, and I think of the woman following me. Then suddenly I got frightened. I jumped in my car which I’d left parked on the side street and drove away as fast as I could.”
“That was when?”
“That was yesterday.”
“And then what?”
“Then I made it a point to look up Minerva Minden, and the more I saw of the thing the more I was satisfied that I was being groomed as a double for some sinister purpose. So I made up my mind that I’d just bring matters to a head.”
“By shooting up the airport?”
“I decided I’d do something so darned spectacular that the whole business would be brought out into the open.”
“So what did you do?”
“I rang up the number for instructions. They told me I didn’t need to do anything today. I learned that Miss Minden was taking a plane for New York. I checked her reservation. So I got all prepared and went to the airport.
“She was wearing the same clothes that I was and... well, I got the pistol, loaded it with blank cartridges, had you inspect my appendicitis operation scar so there could be no question— Oh, it’s terribly mixed up, Mr. Mason, but it was the best way I could think of, of—”
“Never mind all that,” Mason said. “Tell me what happened.”
“Well, I went down to the airport. I waited until Minerva showed up and went into the women’s room, then I jumped up, grabbed the gun, yelled ‘This isn’t a stick-up’ and shot into the air. Then I dashed into the women’s room. There are several stalls in there for showers where a person can put in a coin, get a shower, towels and all of that. Those stalls insure complete privacy. So I ran into the rest room, skidded the gun along the floor, put the coin in the slot and went into the shower.
“I felt sure that Minerva would walk into the trap, and of course she did.”
“You mean she came out of the rest room and was identified?”
“She came out of the rest room and was promptly identified. People came crowding around her and the cops started questioning her and of course that gave her a pretty good background of what had happened.”
“And at that time you thought she’d say that she hadn’t done it at all, that it was someone else and the officers would look in the rest room and find you.”
“Well, I wasn’t certain that it would go that far. I thought that I would have an opportunity to get out of the rest room in the excitement before the officers came in and searched, but what I was totally unprepared for was to have her realize what had happened and with diabolical coolness say that she had been the one who had fired the shots.”
Mason looked at his client steadily.
“She was the one who fired the shots, wasn’t she, Dorrie? And you’re working some part of a carefully rehearsed scheme?”
“On my honour, Mr. Mason, I was the one who fired those shots. Minerva was the one who tried to take the blame — and I can tell you how you can prove it in case you absolutely have to. I was afraid that if I said ‘This is a stick-up,’ that even if the gun had blank cartridges in it I might be guilty of some sort of a felony, of trying to get money by brandishing a firearm or something, so I played it safe by shouting at the top of my voice, ‘This isn’t a stick-up.’
“Now, I know that most of the witnesses heard what they thought they should have heard, and claim the person brandishing the gun said this is a stick-up. But if you should ever have to cross-examine them and should ask them if it wasn’t a fact that the woman said this isn’t a stick-up, I’ll bet you they would admit that that’s what they really heard — but you know how it is. No one wants to come forward and be the first to say the woman said this isn’t a stick-up. It would make them sound sort of foolish and... well, that’s the way it is. No one would want to be the first, but once someone tells the real truth the others will fall in line.”