The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

by The Case of the Borrowed Brunette (retail) (epub)

  “And you applied for the job?” Mason asked.

  “Yes.”

  “By telephone?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And talked with Mr. Hines?”

  “I talked with a man who said he was Mr. Hines’s representative. He said that I was to wear a dark suit and be sure to have some sort of a fluffy fur around my neck, go to this corner promptly at four o’clock this afternoon, and wait here until five. In the event I was not selected, I would be given ten dollars for my trouble.”

  “When did you answer the ad?”

  “About eleven o’clock this morning.”

  “It was in this morning’s paper?”

  “Yes. That is, it was in a trade paper widely read by actresses. It was published this morning.”

  “I presume you were advised that there were other applicants?”

  She laughed and said, “I knew it. Within an hour after I telephoned, my roommate—Eva Martell—came in and I told her about it, and she rang up. She’s a brunette of almost exactly my build. We can wear each other’s clothes, even to gloves and shoes.”

  “And what did Mr. Hines tell her?”

  “Not Mr. Hines—the man who said he was Mr. Hines’s representative. He told Eva to meet him at four o’clock at a point four blocks farther down the street. So there must have been three other applicants accepted for consideration between the time I applied and the time she phoned.”

  Mason looked at his watch. “Well, it’s five minutes to five now. You’ve been here since four?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Notice anything unusual? Anyone looking you over?”

  She laughed at him and said, “Heavens, Mr. Mason, everyone in the city has been looking me over. I never felt so conspicuous in my life. I’ve had wolves bark at me, coyotes yelp, and airedales whistle. People on foot have tried picking me up. People in automobiles have offered to take me wherever I wanted to go, and other people have just twisted their necks half off.”

  “And yet you haven’t been asked to take the job?”

  “Not even a tumble from Mr. Hines. I suppose, of course, he must either have looked me over, or had his representative do so. When I decided to come here, I made up my mind I’d get a good look at whoever was sizing me up. But—well, you just take any girl who answers that description and let her stand unescorted on a street corner such as this for an hour, and you’ll see how much chance she’d have to separate the wheat from the chaff!”

  Mason nodded. “Very, very shrewd,” he said, admiringly.

  “What was?”

  “The way Hines prevented you girls from spotting him when he was sizing you up. He was very careful to select a street that was just right for his purpose—not so far out as to frighten you, not so close to the shopping district that you would be inconspicuous in the crowd. As it was, this street was so public that you were willing to come here, yet sufficiently uncrowded so that every wolf would spot you. Hines could have walked past here two or three times, even stopped to make a pass at you, but you wouldn’t be able to tell him from the rest of the wolves.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “It was very cleverly handled. But that ten-dollar pay-off is interesting, and it’s about due. I wonder if you’d have any objection if we waited to see . . .”

  He broke off as a man, walking rapidly down the sidewalk, veered in toward the little group at the corner, raised his hat, and said, “Miss Felton?”

  “Yes.”

  “I represent Mr. Hines, and I’m sorry to advise you that the vacancy has been filled. You are to receive ten dollars for your trouble in coming here, and Mr. Hines asked me to see that you get this ten-dollar bill. Thank you. Good-by.”

  The man thrust the bill into Cora Felton’s hand, raised his hat and started on down the street, his right hand dropping to his coat pocket, his left hand holding a card on which a list of names had been written.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Cora Felton called. “I’d like to find out . . .”

  He turned. “I’m sorry—that’s all I know, Miss Felton. I was given that message to deliver. I don’t even know what it means myself. Good afternoon.” And he proceeded rapidly across the street.

  “Can you beat that?” Cora Felton said. And then added philosophically, “Well, I’m ten bucks to the good anyway. He could have gypped me out of that easy as not.”

  Mason said, “I’m going on down the street. How would you like to jump in the car, drive four blocks down to where your friend is waiting, and get a chance to interview Mr. Hines’s representative once more?”

  Her eyes smiled into his. “Say, that’s something! I’d love it.”

  “Hop in,” Mason invited.

  They drove on down Adams Street in time to see the man paying off the girl at the next corner.

  “It’ll be two more streets,” Cora Felton said.

  Mason drove his car down past two more corners where brunettes were waiting and pulled in close to the curb as he approached the third corner.

  Cora Felton said, “She’d be thrilled to death to meet you, Mr. Mason. She’ll be right here . . . Why, that’s funny—I don’t see her.”

  Mason brought the car to a full stop. Cora Felton opened the door, looked carefully around on all four of the corners, and said with a laugh, “Well, she’s gone home. She wasn’t too enthusiastic about it anyway. Eva isn’t the kind to stand around waiting on street corners.—Well, thanks a lot, Mr. Mason, and I certainly enjoyed meeting you. I’ll really have something to tell Eva when I get home.”

  Mason said, “I’m going toward town. Are you by any chance headed that way?”

  “We have an apartment out on West Sixth Street. If you’re going in that direction . . . I don’t want to put you out any.”

  “That’ll be fine. It’s just as easy to go that way as any other.”

  Cora Felton settled back in the seat. “This is a real thrill. I’m going to make Eva’s eyes pop out. I’ll probably beat her home.”

  Mason made time through traffic and brought his car to a stop in front of the apartment house.

  “I don’t suppose I could interest you folks in a drink?” Cora Felton asked, and then added, laughing, “You’d have an opportunity to meet the woman who was to have been our chaperone in case we landed the job. And you’d really get a kick out of her.”

  “Salty?” Mason asked.

  “Salty and peppery! You know, in answering an ad like that you can’t be sure what’s in the wind. I was hoping I’d land it if only to be able to spring Adelle Winters on that Mr. Hines!”

  Mason glanced at Della Street, then tentatively shut off the ignition on his car. “Tell me about Adelle Winters.”

  “Well, she’s been a practical nurse. She’s redheaded and chunky, and she wants to live her own life. She can’t be bothered too much by rules and regulations, and for that very reason is probably one of the greatest liars in the world. Whenever people start questioning her about things she thinks are none of their business, or try to make her conform to some convention or law that she doesn’t approve of, she proceeds to lie her way out with a great deal of ability and a perfectly clear conscience. She’s a darned good liar.”

  “How old?” Mason asked.

  “Oh, somewhere between fifty and sixty-five. You’d never know, and she won’t tell.—Do come on up!”

  “We will at that,” Mason said. “Long enough for a cocktail and to meet Mrs. Winters.—You don’t think Mr. Hines would have slipped anything over on her, eh?”

  “Mr. Hines definitely would not have slipped anything over on Aunt Adelle.—The apartment’s on the third floor, and the elevator is automatic.”

  “You girls both looking for work?” Mason asked on the way up.

  “That kind of work, yes. We’re actresses—at least we think we are, or we thought we were before we came here. We’ve had a few jobs as extras in Hollywood and we’ve done some work as models. We’re getting by okay, but we’re interest
ed in new contacts. That’s how we happened to decide to answer that ad. It probably means a job as understudy somewhere. The way those measurements were listed in such detail, it must have been something like that.”

  Cora Felton fitted a latchkey to the apartment door, then turned with a little laugh and said, “Better let me look in first to make certain everybody’s decent.”

  She held the door open and called out, “Company coming. Everybody dressed?”

  There was no answer.

  “Well, that’s strange,” she said. “Come on in. I guess there’s no one home. Oh-oh, what’s this?”

  A note pinned to the table had caught her attention. She opened and read it, then passed it to Mason without a word.

  Cora dear, I landed. I hadn’t been there over ten minutes when Mr. Hines drove up, talked with me, said that I’d do, and asked me if I wanted a chaperone. Did I? I had him drive me up to the apartment here and pick up Aunt Adelle, also a few personal things.

  It sounds terribly wacky and mysterious. I’m not certain that I like it, but I’m banking on Aunt Adelle to see us through. I wanted him to drive me up to your corner and pick you up and tell you what had happened. But he said nothing doing. It seems one of the rules of the job is that I’m not to communicate with any of my friends until after the job is finished, which apparently will be at the end of thirty days. I’m banking on Aunt Adelle, and she’s banking on a .32-caliber revolver that has been her constant companion for years. In honor of the occasion she bought a fresh box of shells so as to be certain there won’t be any misfire.

  Don’t worry about us. We’ll be bringing home the bacon. You know Aunt Adelle!

  Lovingly,

  EVA

  Mason handed back the note.

  “What do you make of it?” Cora asked.

  “The note?”

  “No, the job.”

  “Are you sure Adelle Winters is thoroughly capable of taking care of herself?”

  “Taking care of herself and of Eva too,” Cora said. “Anyhow, don’t worry about Eva. She isn’t going to be caught very far off first base.—What will you have? Manhattan or Martini?”

  “A Manhattan,” Mason said.

  “Same here,” Della Street said.

  Cora Felton opened the icebox, took out a bottle of prepared cocktails, and poured three drinks.

  “Well,” Mason said, picking up his glass, “here’s to crime!”

  “You would!” Cora said.

  2

  ON THURSDAY morning Gertie appeared in the doorway of Mason’s private office just as Mason and Della Street were going through the mail. “Gosh, I’m sorry to butt in, Mr. Mason,” she said, “but this was something I couldn’t handle over the phone.”

  “What is it?”

  Gertie’s habitually wide grin seemed even broader than usual. “I told this party you didn’t see people except by appointment, and she asked me how people got appointments. And while I was thinking that one over, she said, ‘You go tell Mr. Mason that it’s ten o’clock now and I want an appointment for five minutes after!’ I thought Della might care to look her over.”

  Mason laughed. “Is she as determined as she sounds?”

  “More so. She looks capable of just about anything.”

  “What does she want to see me about? Did she say?”

  “Sure. She talks right up. She’s a companion or an adopted aunt or something to a couple of girls, and she heard them talking about you—or one of them was talking about you. She said that you knew all about the case, but you just didn’t know her.”

  “Did you get her name?” Mason asked.

  “Uh-huh, it’s Adelle Winters.”

  Mason shook his head. “It means nothing to me.”

  “Wait a minute!” Della Street exclaimed. “Adelle Winters! That’s the woman who’s the chaperone. Remember, Chief, the case of the brunettes on the street corners?”

  “I remember now,” Mason replied. “A man advertising for brunettes, with one on every street corner. By all means, let’s see what she looks like.”

  Gertie retired, and a moment later Adelle Winters—short, squat, competent, and alert—came marching into the office.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Winters,” Mason said.

  She regarded him with lively, suspicious eyes. “Humph! You’re a lawyer. You’re supposed to have a business office so you can see people. Ain’t that right?”

  “That’s right,” Mason said, smiling.

  “Well, you’d better do something about that girl out there in the other office. Telling me you didn’t see people without an appointment! So I asked her how people got the appointments in the first place if you don’t see them—and that floored her. Now I want you to listen to what I have to say and I don’t want you to send me a bill afterwards because I haven’t any money to pay lawyers. So let’s have that understood right at the start.—Who’s that woman?”

  “My secretary, Miss Street.”

  “Can you trust her?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “So do I. Now, you’ve got to keep it secret about my being here.”

  “What’s the necessity for secrecy?”

  “Well, you’ll understand when I tell you about it.”

  “Do sit down,” Mason said. “It isn’t often we have clients who are so disarmingly frank about the matter of our charges—though many of them doubtless have the same idea you do.”

  “Well, the way I look at things, there ain’t no harm in coming right out and saying what you’ve got in mind. Having an understanding in the first place saves a lot of trouble. Now you gave Cora Felton a ride the day that Eva Martell was hired?”

  Mason nodded.

  “Cora told me about that, and I’ve seen your name in the papers a lot. Seems to me you’re a mighty upstanding young man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t have come to you unless I thought you were. I wanted the best.”

  Mason bowed silent acknowledgment.

  “Now this job we’ve got is the craziest job a body ever had, and Lord knows I’ve seen some funny stuff in my time. I’ve been a practical nurse for—well, for a good many years. I’ve nursed all sorts of people, including neurotics and crazy guys.”

  “And this is a nursing job?”

  “Listen,” she said. “Get this straight, because I don’t want any misunderstanding about it. This job is a murder case.”

  “Someone is about to be murdered?” Mason asked.

  “Someone has been murdered.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman by the name of Helen Reedley.”

  “Who killed her?”

  “Land sakes, I don’t know! What do you suppose I’m coming to you for?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to get straightened out.”

  “Well, I’m coming to you because you’re a lawyer and a smart one. And Eva Martell and Cora Felton are just like daughters of mine. They’re no relation really, but I nursed their mothers when they were little tots and I’ve sort of kept my eye on them ever since.”

  “Now as I understand it,” Mason prompted, “Eva Martell was the one who was hired for this job.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Suppose you tell me exactly what happened.”

  “Well, both of the girls went out to see if they could land the job. I told them that it sounded pretty screwy to me, but I also told them that if they could take their own chaperone they didn’t have anything to worry about because I’d be on the job. And if some fellow thought he was going to pick himself up a nice cute chicken with an ad like that and pay a chaperone twenty dollars a day to keep her eyes closed, he had another guess coming.

  “Well,” she said, “I sat up there in the apartment waiting for the girls to come back. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think that either of them would get the job—I didn’t even think there was a job. But I sat around and waited. And then Eva came in all excited. There was a man with her. He said he wasn’t Mr
. Hines, but Mr. Hines’s representative, and that Eva had been hired and that we had to get on the job at once. As I said, Eva was all excited. And I didn’t blame her, because it would amount to a lot of money by the time she got paid and I got paid and all our expenses got paid! So it looked pretty good, and we started off.”

  “I arrived at the apartment very shortly after you’d left,” Mason said. “I take it you got packed up in a hurry?”

  “There wasn’t any packing to do—that was the first screwy thing about it—just what personal stuff we could carry in an inconspicuous little handbag, he said. And what sort of a bag do you suppose he meant, Mr. Mason?”

  Mason raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

  “An ordinary, everyday shopping bag,” she went on. “The man had brought it with him. He said that where we were going he didn’t want us to be seen carrying any baggage. So we were to carry that shopping bag as though we’d been out getting some groceries.”

  “And then where did you go?” Mason asked.

  “We went to a mighty nice little apartment. Not a swanky place but a real nice little up-to-date double apartment. Moved in just as though we owned the joint. Then the man said to me, ‘Now, Mr. Hines has a lease on this apartment, but the lease is in the name of Helen Reedley and there’s a clause in it saying that it can’t be sublet; so, in order to keep from being put out, this young lady will go by the name of “Miss Helen Reedley.” Tell everyone that’s her name, and she must remember to answer anyone who calls her Miss Reedley.’ He went on to explain to us about how tough it was to get apartments, and how the landlady was inclined to be coöperative, but after all, she couldn’t stand for too much without losing her job. However, as long as Eva had the name of Helen Reedley, it would be all right.”

  “And what did you say to that?”

  “It didn’t fool me for a minute,” she said truculently. “I knew there was some skulduggery afoot the minute he said that, but I wasn’t going to say anything unless he got fresh. I was there as a chaperone, and I made up my mind I was going to do a good job of it. There wouldn’t be any funny business going on with this Mr. Hines.”