“I have the address from the phone book,” Mason said.
“Well, that’s right. Just drive up and tap on your horn. I’ll be right out. My wife is a little worried.”
“Try calling the police and the hospitals. If he’s been in an accident, there’ll be a record of it.”
“I’ve thought of that. I don’t like to do it, however, because it will worry my wife when she hears me placing the calls.”
“He might be at the office and just not answering the phone.”
“No, I’ve been up to the office. He isn’t there.”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” Mason told him. “He’ll show up all right. I’ll be out in about... well, it’ll take me about fifteen minutes from here, I guess.”
“I’ll be looking for you,” Doxey said.
Mason hung up the telephone and said to Della Street, “Okay, Della, you’ll have to wait, and—”
“I’m going with you. You can’t shake me that easily. You’ll need me to take notes.”
Mason shook his head.
“Yes, Chief, please. You’ll need someone to—”
“You know what’s going to happen,” Mason said.
“I won’t give the show away.”
“All right,” Mason conceded. “Bring along a notebook and some pencils. Sit in the back seat and keep notes on any conversation. Let’s go.”
They drove out to Doxey’s house, which they found without difficulty. It was a large white stucco, red-tile roofed house, a traditional California type of Spanish architecture. There were two palm trees in front of the doorway to the porch, a wide cement walk crossed a velvety, grassy lawn to the sidewalk. Mason tapped the horn button twice, and almost instantly the door opened and Herbert Doxey started out, turned, said something over his shoulder, closed the door and came running down the walk.
“Heard from Lutts?” Mason asked.
“Not a word. We’re really becoming quite apprehensive about him.”
Mason introduced Doxey to Della Street.
“Don’t you want to ride up in front?” Doxey asked. “I’d just as soon—”
“No, she’s fine,” Mason said, “I’d like to talk with you. Sit up here and tell me something about the affairs of the company.”
“I’m afraid there’s not very much I can tell you, Mr. Mason,” Doxey said, getting into the front seat. “I think you’re fully conversant with the plans of the company, that is, the plans the company did have before this afternoon’s meeting.”
“And now what’s happened?” Mason asked.
“Well,” Doxey said, laughing, “there’s been a sharp division of opinion. You’ll appreciate my position. As an officer of the company I want to give you all the information you want, but I have to remain neutral.”
“I understand,” Mason told him, “and I appreciate your courtesy. You mentioned a divided opinion. Just how is the opinion divided?”
“Well, Mr. Mason, a peculiar situation has developed. I... I don’t feel that I can tell you any more until I talk with Daddy Lutts.”
“What’s the book value of the stock?” Mason asked.
“I— Well, there again it’s a matter of opinion.”
“What’s the book value per share with reference to the money the company has invested?”
“Oh, that’s quite low, Mr. Mason, Undoubtedly, very, very much below the market price. You see, the company made a rather speculative buy, and circumstances have developed that have made the original value important only from a bookkeeping standpoint.”
“I see,” Mason said dryly, then asked, “Any recent transfers of stock?”
“Well, I— Your transfer was recent.”
“Been any since then?” Mason asked.
Doxey hesitated.
“After all,” Mason told him, “there’s no use being mysterious with me. I’m a stockholder in the company. I’m entitled to information.”
“Some sales were made late this afternoon,” Doxey said noncommittally.
“Who sold?”
“Some of the others on the board of directors.”
“Who bought?”
“I... I... know certain things in confidence, Mr. Mason. I—”
“You’ll learn them officially as soon as the shares are surrendered for transfer?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Have they been surrendered for transfer?”
“To what shares are you referring, Mr. Mason?”
Mason said, “I’m referring to any shares that were sold this afternoon. Now don’t get so damned technical; if you’re going to get along with me, don’t start by trying to hold out information.”
“There are others to get along with,” Doxey said. “I’m in the position of being between two fires.”
“Where’s the other fire?”
“I think you can figure that out, Mr. Mason.”
“All right,” Mason said, “let’s get down to brass tacks. How many transfers of stock have you entered this afternoon, after the transfer of my shares this morning?”
“One,” Doxey said.
“Who to?”
“Daddy Lutts bought some shares.”
“Who sold?”
“Regerson B. Neffs.”
“How many shares of stock?”
“The certificates that I entered for transfer on the books of the corporation amounted to three thousand shares of stock.”
“What did Lutts pay for them?” Mason asked.
“The consideration didn’t show on the transfers. It was a private matter.”
“Neffs is sort of a stuffed shirt, isn’t he?” Mason asked.
“I’m sorry,” Doxey said, laughing, “but the corporation doesn’t pay me to discuss members of the board with the stockholders.”
Mason glanced sidelong at Doxey. They were silent for a while; then Doxey shifted his position and said, “I’ve got a sunburned back. You could do me a very great personal favor, Mr. Mason.”
“How?”
“By telling me what you paid for Daddy Lutts’ stock.”
“Why?”
“I might do a little speculating.”
“And you might get your fingers burnt.”
“I’ll take a chance on that. I know that Daddy Lutts is... well, he’s...”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “He’s greedy. He’s decided that something has happened to make the stock worth a lot more money than the directors think it’s worth. He’s out buying more stock. That’s why he forgot all about dinner tonight.”
Doxey said irritably, “Well, at least he could have rung up Georgiana.”
“Georgiana is your wife?”
“That’s right. Daddy Lutts’ daughter. His name is George. He wanted a son, but when it turned out to be a daughter, they called her Georgiana. That was as close as they could come.”
“I see,” Mason said.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Doxey told him.
“I’ll put it this way,” Mason said. “I paid too damn much for the stock.”
“Yes,” Doxey said sarcastically, “I have a picture of the great Perry Mason going around buying things at too high a price.”
“We might make a trade,” Mason suggested.
“In what way?”
“You may have some information that I want.”
“What?”
“Does Lutts know who my client is?”
Doxey glanced at Mason, hesitated, then said, “I think he does.”
“Do you know?”
“No.”
“How did Lutts find out?”
“I couldn’t tell you that. He might have traced the check that your client gave you. He has a bank teller who’s under obligations to him. That’s all I know. Now, it’s your turn.”
Mason said, “I paid thirty-two thousand seven hundred and fifty dollars for Lutts’ two thousand shares of stock.”
Doxey regarded Mason as one might look at an individual who had just started to put on water wings to jump from the upper deck of the Queen Mary in the middle of the Atlantic. “You paid what?” he asked.