“Good idea. Whom are you going to see?”
“Perry Mason.”
“He doesn’t handle that stuff. It takes a murder case to get him even interested.”
She said, “If he gets enough for it, he’ll be interested. This needs someone who can do more than just look in a law book and tell you what the law is. It needs a lot of legal ingenuity.”
“Well, he’s the bird to handle Peavis all right if you can get him to handle it,” Bob Lawley admitted, “but you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“I thought it would be a good plan to take up all of the stock certificates and the stock book. He’ll want to see them.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Bob said hastily.
“Well, he might ask for them.”
Bob’s voice was harsh with nervous impatience. “Gosh, Millie, I’ve got an important appointment in the morning and that stock’s in the safety deposit box. Tell you what you do. If he wants to see the stock, I can take it in to him later on. I don’t think he’ll want to. I have an appointment with an insurance company adjuster in the morning — confounded nuisance. I could cancel it, of course, if I had to, but I’ve had a lot of trouble getting him on the job.”
“What was the accident, Bob? You never did tell me anything about it. I learned of it from Carla.”
“Oh, just one of those cases of where some guy comes down the street, crocked to the eyebrows. I wasn’t even in the car. I had it parked at the curb. I don’t know how in the world he managed to smash it up the way he did. He must have skidded into it from the side.”
“Did you get his number?”
“No. I tell you I wasn’t there. The car was parked. A couple of people who saw it told me about it, but they were too dumb to get his license number.”
Mildreth said, “Well, I guess I’m not really going to need the stock, although I’d like to have it. Couldn’t you get down to the safety deposit box, Bob, and...”
“Absolutely not, Millie. I’ve got two or three appointments in the morning. I just can’t cancel them now, but if he needs the stock, I’ll bring it in later. You can get in touch with me. You don’t need to have it there when you’re talking with him. Don’t be silly! Next week would be okay.”
“Well, I guess it’s all right,” she said, and there was a note of weary dejection in her voice.
“You’re working too hard, Millie. Can’t you take it a little easier?”
“Oh, I’m all right. Business is pretty good, and there’s quite a bit of detail work... Well, I’ll run along, Bob.”
“Leave a message for me if you want that stock,” he said. “I could pick it up day after tomorrow — but I can’t imagine why he’d want to see the certificate.”
“Look, Bob, can’t you get into that box and...”
“Lord, no!” he interrupted, raising his voice. “You’re getting to be an old woman. Stop that damned worrying.”
“Bob... the stock’s there, isn’t it? It’s all right? You...”
He got up out of the chair. “For Christ’s sake, quit nagging! Don’t I have enough on my mind without you running around yapping about your damned stock? I know you don’t like me. You never did. You broke your fool neck trying to poison Carla’s mind against me. Now...”
“Stop it!” she interrupted. “You’re like a schoolboy... And you’re shouting. You don’t want Carla to think we’re quarreling, do you?”
He sat down wearily. “Oh, hell, what’s the use?... If Mason wants to see that stock, tell him to ring me up. You give me the willies. If you don’t want to quarrel, get the hell out of here.”
She stalked wordlessly into the door, out into the evening.
Gliding along Chervis Road, Mildreth Faulkner was entirely oblivious to the charm of the clear, star-lit night. Why had Bob been so glib with detailed explanations of that automobile accident? Why was it so important to meet the insurance adjuster? Why had he had so much trouble getting him on the job? Why did the idea of producing that stock throw him in such a panic? She had been tactless about it. She didn’t trust him. For weeks now she’d been trying to find some legitimate excuse for getting that stock certificate out of his hands. Carla had endorsed all her securities, turned them over to Bob... Of course it was absurd to doubt his loyalty to Carla, yet she couldn’t help being uneasy, and that story about the accident, with the front of the car smashed in.
“I suppose I’m an awful heel,” Mildreth said to herself, “but unfortunately I know my brother-in-law altogether too well.”
So she drove to the Traffic Department at police headquarters, made inquiries as to whether there had been any report on the accident, found that Bob’s Buick sedan had been in a collision with another car, that Bob had been in the wrong.
A telephone call to the man who had been driving the other car elicited the information that Bob had not been alone in the Buick at the time of the accident. A blond young woman, rather attractive, had been in the front seat with him. The man had taken her name as a witness. Just a minute, and he’d... Here it was. Esther Dilmeyer. The address she’d given him was the Golden Horn nightclub. He believed she’d said she worked there, but he couldn’t be certain. The man who was driving the car — Mr. Lawley — had been very nice. The accident was all his fault, and he was going to settle. There’d been another man in the back. No, the settlement hadn’t been made yet, but Mr. Lawley was to call at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. Would you mind telling me who you are, Ma’am?
She said, quickly, “I’m with the Workman’s Compensation Fund. We understood Miss Dilmeyer was injured.”
Her informant said, “I was the only one that was hurt. I got shaken up pretty badly. There was another man in the car with Lawley. You could use him as a witness if you had to. His name was... wait a minute. Here it is. Sindler Coll.”
“Had they been drinking?” Mildreth asked.
“No, but they were going plenty fast.”
Mildreth said, “Thank you,” and hung up.
Why did Bob go to such elaborate means to mystify everyone concerning the traffic accident? The car was insured, and the insurance company would take charge... But the insurance company quite obviously hadn’t. Bob was meeting the other party at eleven o’clock in the morning to make an adjustment. Apparently, the insurance company knew nothing whatever about the accident.
Mildreth Faulkner wanted to get back to that floral design, but right now she felt something else was more important.
Evidently Bob had no intention of explaining the presence of the nightclub hostess in his car.
Chapter 2
An expression of bitter disillusion on Esther Dilmeyer’s features made her seem suddenly old.
All about her was the gaiety of the nightclub, a forced, hectic hilarity which needed the constant flow of alcohol to keep it at the high level which would declare dividends for the management.
The orchestra ground out melodies with swinging rhythm. A master of ceremonies radiated synthetic enthusiasm as he announced the numbers of a floorshow through a microphone. Waiters, moving back and forth among the tables, carefully followed instructions that food must not be brought too soon after cocktails. Those who had drunk too much were being served watered drinks; those who seemed “sourpuss” were having a special visit from the head waiter with the virtues of the wine list extolled.
For those who were properly vouched for, there was a more quiet but sinister activity in the thickly carpeted suite of rooms above the nightclub.