The Case of the Singing Skirt pm-63

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  She opened the car door, slid out to the sidewalk, crossed the sidewalk and walked past the entrance to the motel around back of the swimming pooi.

  Mason circled the block to the left, came to the alley, drove down the alley until he was in a position where he could see the end of the swimming pool, then shut off his motor and waited, with his lights on.

  So intent was the lawyer on watching the swimming pool that he failed to keep an eye on the rearview mirror and did not see the car which pulled up behind him.

  Two men got out and walked up to where Mason was sitting.

  Miles Overton, the chief of police, said, "This is the lawyer I was telling you about."

  Mason snapped to quick attention, turned and said casually, "Hello, Chief."

  "Want you to meet a friend of mine," the chief said. "This is Ralston Fenwick, Mr. Mason."

  A heavy-set, bullnecked individual with smiling lips and cold green eyes extended a pudgy hand on which a scintillating diamond made sparks of fire. "How are you, Mr. Mason? Mighty glad to know you."

  "What are you doing here?" the chief asked.

  "Parking," Mason said wearily, switching off the lights on his car. "Looking over the lay of the land. I want to make a diagram of the premises."

  "How come?" the chief asked.

  "My client is suing George Anclitas for seventy-five hundred dollars. Or hadn't you heard?"

  "I'd heard," the chief said noncommittally.

  Fenwick pushed the chief of police slightly to one side, eased an elbow over against Mason's car, smiled at the lawyer. "I'm just sort of getting oriented here, Mr. Mason. I wanted to see the lay of the land myself. Then I was going to come and have a talk with you."

  "Yes?"

  "That's right."

  "What's your interest in me?" Mason asked.

  "Well," Fenwick said, "I'm in public relations. I represent an association. George Anclitas is a member of that association."

  "What's the association?" Mason asked.

  Fenwick grinned. "It wouldn't mean a thing to you if I told you. It has a high-sounding name, but there's no reason for you and me to beat around the bush, Mason. The association is composed of men who are in the gambling business."

  "I see," Mason said.

  "You have some peculiar ideas about the law," Fenwick went on, "but because of your position, Mr. Mason, and the fact that you are a pretty shrewd lawyer, those ideas of yours could do us a lot of damage."

  "They're not ideas of mine," Mason said. "They're ideas of the courts of the State of California."

  "So I understand," Fenwick said.

  Mason saw Della Street walk quickly to the end of the swimming pool, look across at the car, then as she was aware that the lights were not on and that two men were talking to Perry Mason, she moved around the end of the swimming pool and out of sight.

  Fenwick said, "You know, this association is pretty powerful, Mr. Mason. That is, we have a lot of mighty nice people who are members, and it isn't just in this county. In fact, it isn't just in this state, although my territory is all within the state-places in Nevada, for instance, have-"

  "I take it," Mason said, "you also look after the legislative interest of gambling establishments."

  "Among other things," Fenwick said. "You know, Mason, a lot of people like to knock gambling; but, after all, there's nothing wrong with it. Gambling is an outlet for the emotions. All people gamble. It's universal. You can't stop it. Prisoners in penitentiaries gamble, every fraternal organization has its little gambling setup. Even the society women with their bridge clubs gamble.

  "I'll tell you something else, Mason. Gambling makes good business. It puts money in circulation. It encourages sociability, and it's darned good business for a community. Now, you take right here in Rowena. You'd be surprised how much money comes into this city from gambling. People come in from all over this part of the country to do a little card playing-and they leave money here."

  "I take it," Mason said, "the gamblers don't quite break even."

  Fenwick threw back his head and laughed. "You're a card, Mr. Mason, you really are! Of course that's the whole principle of organized gambling, Mr. Mason. The customer doesn't break even. Hell's bells, he doesn't want to. If he wanted to break even, he'd stay home. He wouldn't go out to a gambling place at all.

  "That's the real philosophy back of gambling. Sometimes the customer makes a profit. The gambler always makes a profit. Everybody knows that. The gambler isn't doing business for nothing. Some people lose and some people win. More people lose than win, but the people that win, win heavy. They sit in a game with fifty dollars and they leave it with five hundred or fifteen hundred. That's the lure. That's what keeps the wheels running.

  "On the other hand, a gambler knows that while somebody may win fifteen hundred dollars in a game in the course of a week, the majority of people who sit in the game are going to contribute. That's where he makes his living, and, believe me, Mr. Mason, gambling is a good thing for a community."

  "It's a matter of opinion," Mason said.

  "Now, you look at this place here at Rowena," Fenwick went on. "It's well policed, orderly, quiet and law abiding. You don't have any holdups here. You don't have any problems with gangsters. The place just runs along smoothly, and people like George Anclitas are heavy taxpayers-I mean really heavy taxpayers."

  "You mean gambling is a good thing for the community," Mason said, "for the citizens who make up the community?"

  "That's right. Now you're getting the idea."

  "Then there's no reason why we shouldn't tell the married women that the husband has the management of community property but he can't gamble it away. If a gambler wins the wife's share of community property, he can't keep it."

  The smile faded from Fenwick's face. "Now that's a horse of another color, Mason. You're getting things all mixed up. I didn't say that, and we don't feel that way.

  "In the first place, I think that when you make a careful study of the law you'll find you're mistaken, and frankly I'd like to have you make a careful study of the law. That's going to take some time, Mr. Mason. You're a lawyer, and we don't want you to do it for nothing. My association needs some representation here, and we'd like to retain you to sort of keep us advised on the law.

  "One of the first things we'd like to have you do would be to take a year or so and really study up on the decisions relating to gambling and games of chance. We'd put you under a retainer of, say, fifteen thousand a year."

  Mason grinned. "What do you want me for, Fenwick? You've already hired Gowrie."

  Fenwick's eyes widened. "How did you know?" he asked.

  Mason grinned.

  "Well," Fenwick said, "after all, Mason, we're both of us grown up. Think this proposition over, will you?"

  Mason shook his head. "I'm busy with trial work," he said. "I don't have many interests outside of that."

  "Well, you sure knew some law that threw a monkey wrench in the machinery of our organization," Fenwick said. "Boy, they got me on the telephone and told me to get down here so fast it'd make your head swim. I was on a vacation down at Acapulco and had a very pleasant, understanding little companion along with me. Wham! Boy, did I get a telephone call! Get on the plane, get up to Rowena, talk with George Anclitas, talk with Perry Mason, talk with Darwin Gowrie, talk with Mrs. Helman Ellis!"

  "You evidently made good time," Mason said.

  "I made good time. I can get along without sleep when I have to and still keep going."

  Fenwick hesitated for a moment, then met Mason's eyes. "Well, why not?" he asked. "Sure, I've seen Gowrie."

  "And what about Mrs. Ellis?"

  "I'm looking for her," Fenwick said. "That's why I'm still hanging around here. We can't find her. She is in some kind of a ruckus with her husband. She was away for a while. Her husband thinks she was in Arizona. But she came back early this morning, then got in the family yacht and sailed off somewhere."

  "Where?" Mason asked.

&n
bsp; "I wish I knew. I'm figuring Ensenada on a guess. I've got men covering Ensenada and Catalina. The minute her boat shows up, I'll take a plane and go talk to her. I was going to ring you up at your office and make an appointment. Finding you here has saved me a lot of trouble."

  "I understood Mrs. Ellis was looking around in Arizona," Mason said.

  "That's where she was. She didn't stay long. The party she was looking for wasn't where she expected to find her. She got a hot tip from some place and came back here, all worked up. She thought she'd been deliberately sent on a wild-goose chase."

  "Who tipped her off?" Mason asked.

  "I don't know. I heard about it, that's all, just the sort of gossip a man can pick up."

  Mason stretched and yawned.

  "Look here," Fenwick said, "I'm not an attorney, Mr. Mason, and I'm not in a position to question your judgment about the law, but if-now, I'm just saying if-that decision you mentioned is out of line with the law generally or if there's been a rehearing, or if the case hasn't been decided by the State Supreme Court and this represents just an outstanding departure from the ordinary doctrine of law, I know you'd want to be the first to find out about it.

  "Now, I'll tell you that we've got a battery of highpriced lawyers looking into this thing and we'll know the answer within a day or two. If, of course, your ideas about the law are wrong, you'd want to be the first one to correct the erroneous impression you gave Mrs. Ellis.

  "Now, as I told you, we're willing to pay for research. We don't want you to start looking this point up for nothing. In fact, I'm authorized to give you fifteen thousand dollars just to start looking it up."

  There was silence for a moment.

  "In cash," Fenwick said.

  "I heard you the first time," Mason said. "Right at the moment I'm busy. I won't be able to do any research work."

  Fenwick extended his pudgy hand. "Well, you know where I stand, Mason. Think it over-but if you're too busy to research the point, my associates here in Rowena certainly wouldn't want to do anything that would interrupt your schedule."

  "In other words," Mason said, "if I'm so damned busy, why don't I stay in my office and mind my own business."

  "Something like that." Fenwick grinned, gripping Mason's hand.

  The chief of police touched two fingers of his right hand to the brim of his cap, turned back toward the police car. Fenwick walked back and joined him. The car purred into motion, glided past Mason's automobile and turned to the left down the block.

  Mason turned on his lights.

  Della Street came out to stand by the edge of the swimming pool.

  Mason started his car, drove out of the alley, across the street and swung in close to the curb.

  Della Street, moving rapidly, walked across to the car, jerked the door open and jumped in.

  "Everything okay?" he asked.

  "Everything okay," she said. "There was one other woman in the place. When she had the attendant occupied, I went to work. There was a washbowl with open plumbing, and I got the tube of ice suspended from the two shut-off valves just as you suggested. The gun's out of sight unless someone should happen to get down on the floor and look up."

  "Okay," Mason said, "we'll be on our way."

  "I see that you had company."

  "The chief of police and a lobbyist for the gambling interests," Mason said.

  "What do the gambling interests want?"

  "To retain me," Mason said. "They think I'm working too hard. They'd like to pay our expenses to Acapulco and have us keep out of circulation for a while."

  "And you told them?" Della Street asked.

  "That I was busy," Mason said.

  "And so, now?" she asked.

  "Now," Mason said, "we get out of Rowena-fast."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Thursday afternoon, while Della Street was out of the office on an errand, the unlisted telephone in Mason's office buzzed its signal.

  Mason, knowing that Paul Drake was the only outsider in possession of the unlisted number, dropped the book he was reading, picked up the telephone, said, "Hello. What is it?"

  Paul Drake's voice, clipped with urgency, came over the phone. "Perry, have you heard from your client in that Rowena case?"

  "Ellen Robb?"

  "Yes."

  "I haven't heard from her all day, Paul. Why?"

  "Better get her," Drake said.

  "What's happened?"

  "I don't know for sure. I can give you some of it."

  "Shoot."

  "Mrs. Ellis boarded her yacht and took off for destinations unknown."

  "I know," Mason said. "I talked with the lobbyist for the gambling interests, and he had an all-points bulletin out for the yacht. He thought it was due in Ensenada or in Catalina."

  "Well, here's the thing," Drake said. "Sometime late this morning a submarine that was quite a ways out beyond Catalina Island noticed a boat in proscribed waters. It was drifting aimlessly. The submarine hailed the boat, got no answer and went aboard. The boarding officer found the cabin was locked, found the tanks were out of gas, that no one seemed to be aboard. He forced the cabin door and right away knew something had happened."

  "Such as what?"

  "Murder."

  "Go on," Mason said.

  "The body inside had been there for a while. It was the body of Mrs. Ellis. She had evidently tried to protect herself. There were evidences of a struggle. The gun that she had evidently tried to use was lying by her hand. One shot had been fired from it. The gun was cocked, ready for a second shot, which Mrs. Ellis never got a chance to fire. There were two bullet wounds in the body, apparently both of them chest wounds. Either one would have been fatal within a matter of minutes. There had been a massive hemorrhage, and the inside of the cabin was a mess.

  "Now then, there's something that links Ellen Robb to the case. I don't know what it is, but I understand police are looking for hen. They have out an all-points bulletin and they're really making a search."

  "Anything else?" Mason asked.

  "That's all."

  "Okay," Mason said. "I'll get busy. Where are you now?"

  "At the office."

  "Stay there," Mason said. "Hold a couple of good men in readiness. Now, you have bodyguards watching Ellen Robb's motel?"

  "That's right."

  "You've had a recent report from them?"

  "Within an hour. She's at the motel."

  "Any visitors?"

  "Apparently she's been pure as the driven snow, if you mean has she been entertaining Helman Ellis in the motel."

  "That's what I meant primarily," Mason said. "Anything else?"

  "Nothing else."

  Mason said, "I'm going down there, Paul, and you'd better pull your men off the job. When the police show up, if they find private detectives on guard, they'll start asking questions. We may not want to answer those questions."

  "Okay," Drake said. "I'll get busy."

  Mason called the receptionist on the intercom, said, "When Della comes in tell her to wait for a call from me, Gertie. I'm going out on an emergency. Cancel any appointments for the next hour and a half."

  He picked up his brief case, grabbed his hat, left the office and drove to the Surf and Sea Motel at Costa Mesa. He tapped on the door of Unit 19.

  "Who is it?" Ellen Robb's voice asked.

  "Mason," the lawyer said.

  "Oh," she said. Then, after a moment, "I'm not even decent, Mr. Mason."

  "Get decent," Mason said. "This is important."

  "How important?" she asked, sudden alarm in her voice.

  "Important enough to get me down here," Mason said.

  Ellen Robb turned the key in the lock. "Come on in," she said.

  Mason entered.

  "Don't mind me," Ellen Robb said. "I can stand it if you can. Did you bring the papers for me to sign?"

  "I brought the papers," Mason said. "I want you to do two things."

  "What?"

  "Sign this complai
nt and get some clothes on."

  "Which first?"

  "The complaint."

  She seated herself on the stool at the dressing table, took the papers that Mason handed her, said, "Is it all right for me to sign?"

  "It is," Mason said. "You're suing George and Marcus for seven thousand, five hundred dollars. Sign now, then dress, and after you dress read the complaint carefully."

  She signed, then pushed back the stool.

  "Want to talk to me while I dress?"

  Mason hesitated a moment, then said, "It's better you don't know what this is all about," he said. "Just get dressed. Now, remember, if anything happens before we leave here, I simply came here to have you sign these papers."

  She regarded him with a puzzled expression as she carefully smoothed stockings up on her long legs, pulled a dress over her head.

  "You're a deep one," she said.

  Mason said, "Ellen, I want to know one thing. I want you to tell me the truth."

  "What is it?"

  "Were you cutting corners with Helman Ellis?"

  "Why?"

  "George Anclitas says you were. His partner, Slim Marcus, says you were."

  "Slim!" she blazed. "He's a great one. That guy was making passes at me from the moment I came on the job, pulling the kind of stuff on me that the way to get ahead was to co-operate with the people who could help me and-"

  "Never mind that," Mason said. "I'm talking about Ellis."

  "Ellis," she said, "I think was… well, fascinated."

  "How about you?" Mason asked. "Did you give him a tumble?"

  "I strung him along a little bit. I was supposed to. I-"

  Knuckles sounded on the door.

  She looked at Mason in surprise, then called, "Who is it?"

  "Police," Lt. Tragg's voice said. "Will you open up, please? We want to ask you some questions."

  "This is it," Mason said.

  She hurriedly buttoned her blouse.

  Mason walked to the door, opened it and said, "Why, how are you, Lieutenant?"

  "You!" Tragg said.

  "Whom did you expect?"

  Tragg took a deep breath. "I should have expected you. Where's Ellen Robb?"

  "I'm Ellen Robb. What's the trouble?"

  Ellen Robb stepped forward.