“I think you’ve got something,” Cleve Rector said. “I want it investigated.”
“Now, wait a minute, wait a minute,” Enright Harlan shouted. “This is simply blackmail. You see now why Mr. Mason got in here. He’s trying to drum up a lawsuit. In the first place, if you people don’t make some agreement with Mrs. Claffin, you can’t even use the roadway across her property. She’s only willing to dedicate that for a highway in the event your property is leveled and in the event she receives a reasonable contribution toward the cost of the dedication.”
“You mean she wants money from us?” Lutts asked.
“You want a road from her, don’t you?” Harlan asked.
Ezekiel Elkins turned to Mason. “What’s this doctrine of lateral support you’re talking about?”
Harlan said, “Just a minute, gentlemen. If there’s going to be any dissertation on your legal rights, I want to have an opportunity to get a lawyer here and—”
“Shut up,” Elkins said. “You’re not a stockholder here, you’re not a director. You’re here by sufferance. Your interests are opposed to ours and always have been. Go ahead, Mr. Mason. What do you mean by lateral support?”
“Under the original common law,” Mason said, “property was absolutely entitled to lateral support. That doctrine has now been changed somewhat by Section 832 of the civil code, but under that section, before any person can make an excavation which will in any way damage the lateral support of the adjoining property, it is necessary that a written notice be given to the adjoining property owner. Did Mrs. Claffin ever give this corporation any notice?”
“She did not,” Rector said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Harlan interposed. “Don’t get stampeded.”
“Let’s see a lawyer,” Regerson Neffs interrupted.
“We’ve got one here,” Rector said. “I move we adjourn.”
“Second the motion,” Herbert Doxey said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Harlan insisted. “We’ve all got a problem to consider. We—”
“Rise to a point of order,” Regerson Neffs interrupted. “The motion to adjourn is always in order. It’s been duly seconded. Put it to a vote.”
“All those in favor of adjournment signify by saying aye,” Elkins snapped.
“Aye,” four voices said.
Chairs scraped back. “We’re adjourned,” Elkins said. “I want to talk with you, Mr. Mason.”
Enright Harlan pushed Elkins aside, confronted Mason. He was, Mason saw, a handsome man despite the fact that he was flushed and angry. He was tall, square-shouldered, slender-hipped, athletic. His grey eyes were sharp with anger. “Are you,” he shouted, “trying to turn an asset into a lawsuit?”
Mason grinned at him. “I’m turning a lawsuit into an asset,” he said, and walked away.
Chapter 5
Mason finished the afternoon’s dictation, pushed a file of mail away from him, said, “I can’t keep up with it, Della.”
“You’ve done fine this afternoon,” she said. “Two more hours tomorrow and you’ll be completely finished with the important matters.”
Mason regarded the bulging mail file with disgust. “Well, it’s twenty minutes to six, long past closing time.”
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
“No, I have some law points I want to look up. I’ll put in an hour or two in the library. You go on home, Della. I’m sorry I kept you so late.”
Knuckles tapped on the door, and Gertie, the receptionist, pushed her head in through the doorway. “You didn’t leave instructions about Mrs. Harlan,” she said, and then added parenthetically, “the woman who saw you this morning.”
“What about her?” Mason asked. “And what are you doing here this late? I thought you’d closed up the outer office long ago.”
“She’s on the telephone. She says she simply has to talk with you right now. I told her I didn’t know whether you were in, that I thought you had left for the day but that I’d try to find out. I went out, but came back to wait for my boy friend, and when the phone rang I answered it.”
“I’ll talk with her, Gertie,” Mason said.
Gertie nodded, returned to the other office, and Mason picked up his extension phone. A moment later he heard the click of the connection. “Hello,” he said cautiously.
“Mr. Mason, Mr. Mason, is that you?”
“Yes.”
“This is Sybil... Sybil Harlan.”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Mason, something... I must see you at once! Something very unforeseen has happened.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Mason said. “Get yourself together. You sound half-hysterical.”
“I am... I’ll be all right. I’m just nervous.”
“Where are you now?” Mason asked.
“I’m down at the Union Station. I took a cab there because I thought it would be less conspicuous and—”
Mason, his voice sharp, said, “Don’t try to tell me over the phone. Grab a cab and get up here as fast as you can. Don’t go to the outer office. Come down the corridor to the side-exit door marked ‘Private.’ Tap on it and I’ll let you in.”
“Thank you, thank you. I was so afraid I couldn’t reach you.”
“Never mind,” Mason said. “Get up here.”
Mason hung up the phone, nodded to Della, said, “Get Paul Drake at the Drake Detective Agency for me, Della.”
Della Street started for the outer office.
“No, no. The private unlisted telephone,” Mason said. “I want to be sure I catch him.”
Della Street’s fingers flew over the dial and a moment later she nodded and handed the receiver to Mason.
Mason said hello and heard Drake’s voice on the line. “Yes, Perry, what is it?”
Mason said, “Can you wait there for another hour or so?”
“Yes.”
“I think I have an emergency matter coming up. Got any operatives on tap?”
“There are a couple of good men making out reports here in the office. I can hold them if you want.”
“Hold them,” Mason said.
“What is it?” Drake asked.
Mason said, “I don’t know, Paul. All I have is the sound of a woman’s voice. She’s a woman who wouldn’t get stampeded easily, but she’s half-hysterical now. Stick around, Paul.”
“What’s your connection with her?” Drake asked.
Mason said, “She’s in danger of losing her husband. She doesn’t intend to sit back and let that happen. She had schemes. Now she’s in a jam.”
“Oh-oh,” Drake said. “One of those things where everything went black, then she felt something jerking in her hand and heard loud banging noises. She looked down and found she was holding a gun, and there was John lying on the floor. She has no idea how he got there. She ran to him and said, ‘John, John, speak to me. Oh, John, speak to me.’ So then she calls her lawyer.”
“Don’t kid about it,” Mason said. “You may be a lot nearer the truth than you know. Stay in your office, Paul, and be ready to come down here the minute I give you a buzz.”
Mason hung up, looked at his wristwatch, said to Della, “Well, you’d better stay on, too. I’ll buy you a dinner.”
“Sold. Let’s tackle that mail file again.”
“No mail,” Mason told her. “I want to review the situation in my mind, so I’ll have the various factors at my fingertips. We may have to work fast.”
The lawyer started pacing the floor, head thrust forward, thumbs pushed into the armholes of his vest. Della Street watched him solicitously.
During the next ten minutes, Mason looked at his watch at least ten times. Then Della heard the tapping of quick steps in the corridor and impatient knuckles on the door of Mason’s private office.