“You know how a carbon sheet retains the impression of what has been typed, particularly if you can get the new carbon used in the first copy and there is nothing else on the sheet.
“The detective produced the sheets, and I found that I had a perfect series of carbon papers showing the typing that Mrs. Calvert was doing for my husband.”
“Mrs. Calvert?”
“That’s right. She’s married and separated. Her husband lives out in the country somewhere.”
“Know where?” Mason asked casually.
She shook her head. “I’ve heard of the place. It’s out toward Riverside somewhere... Would you like to see the carbons, Mr. Mason?”
“Very much,” Mason said.
She put down the drink and eased gracefully out of the chair. She walked over to a desk, opened a drawer and took out several sheets of carbon paper.
“As nearly as I can tell, these are the carbon papers used in making the first copy,” she said. “She was making an original and seven copies. So, of course, there were a lot of duplicate sheets of carbon paper. I carefully segregated the different sheets.”
“Have you copied them?”
“I haven’t had time. I’ve had them photostated. I intended to give Mr. Conway one of these complete sets of carbon paper. Since you’re here and are his attorney, I’ll give it to you.”
“Thanks,” Mason told her. “Thanks very much indeed.”
She glanced at him archly. “Don’t mention it. Perhaps you can do something for me someday.”
“Who knows?” Mason said.
“You’ll have to protect me, Mr. Mason. I don’t want anyone, least of all Mr. Conway, to know where those carbon copies came from.”
“You can trust my discretion,” Mason said. “However, I’m going to have to ask a favor. I want to use your phone.”
“It’s in the bedroom. Help yourself.”
Mason put down his glass, went to the bedroom, picked up the phone.
“Number, please?” the operator asked.
“Give me an outside line, please,” Mason said.
“You’ll have to give me the number. I’ll get it for you.”
Mason lowered his voice, gave the number of the Gladedell Motel. When the number answered, he said, “Can you ring Unit 21?”
“Surely, wait a moment, please.”
Mason waited for several seconds, then the voice said, “I’m sorry, that phone doesn’t answer.”
“Thanks,” Mason said, and hung up.
He returned to the other room.
Mrs. Farrell was stretched out on a chaise longue, showing up to advantage through the embroidered lounging pajamas.
“Get your party?”
“No. He didn’t answer.”
“There’s no hurry. You can try again — later.”
Mason sat down, picked up his drink, took a hasty swallow, said, “This is really loaded.”
He looked at his watch.
Her look was mocking.
“Now you’re terribly impatient. You want to hurry through your drink. Now that you have the information you want, the documents you want, you are giving every indication of being in a hurry to be on your way. Am I that unattractive?”
Mason said, “It isn’t that. It’s simply that I have a lot of work to do tonight.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Night work?”
“Night work.”
“I was hoping that while you were here you would relax and that we could get acquainted.”
Mason said, “Perhaps your husband is having your apartment watched. He might suggest that you were entertaining men in your apartment.”
Again she laughed. “Always the lawyer! Now, please, Mr. Mason, don’t tell anyone about the identity of Rosalind. I’m leaving it to you to protect me.”
“And,” Mason said, “I suppose I’m not to say anything about these pictures?”
“Not for a while,” she said.
“What are you going to do with them?”
She said, “When I’m through, I’m going to see that Mrs. Calvert has plenty of publicity. If she’s an exhibitionist, I’ll let them publish her picture where it will do the most good.”
“You seem rather vindictive,” Mason said. “Do you feel that she stole your husband?”
“Heavens, no!” she said. “But I’m vindictive just the same. I feel toward her the way one woman feels towards another who — I don’t know — she cheapens all of us. Before I get done with her, she’ll wish she’d never seen Gifford Farrell.
“All right,” she went on, laughing, “don’t look at me like that. I’m a cat! And I have claws, Mr. Mason. I can be very, very dangerous when I’m crossed. I either like people or I don’t. I’m never lukewarm.”
Mason said, getting to his feet, “I’m sorry, but I have to leave.”
Abruptly she arose, gave him her hand. “I won’t try to detain you any longer. I can see you really don’t want to stay. Good night.”
Mason stepped out into the corridor, carrying the sheets of fresh carbon paper in a roll.
“Good night — and thanks,” he said.
“Come again sometime,” she invited.
Chapter Six
Mason stopped at a telephone booth and called Paul Drake.
“Anything on the gun, Paul?”
“Hell, no! We’re just getting started.”
“Any identification of the corpse?”
“None so far. The police are grubbing around the hotel and can’t seem to get anywhere.”
Mason said, “I’m on the track of something, Paul. I’m going to have to take a chance.”
“You take too many chances,” Drake told him.
“Not too many,” Mason said. “I take them too often.”
“Well, that’s the same thing, only worse.”
“According to the law of averages, it’s worse,” Mason told him. “Now look, Paul, I’m going out to the Lane Vista Apartments. I want to see a Rose Calvert who is in Apartment 319. For your information, she’s probably going to be named as correspondent in a divorce suit by Mrs. Gifford Farrell.”
“What’s the lead?” Drake asked.
“Probably more of a hunch than anything else right now,” Mason told him. “The point is that there may be a private detective sticking around trying to get a line on her.
“Can you have one of your men get out to the Lane Vista Apartments, scout the territory and see if he can find someone who looks like a detective?”
“Sure. What does he do if he finds this guy?”
“I’ll be out there,” Mason said, “inside of thirty minutes. I can make it from here in about fifteen minutes, and your man should be able to make it in fifteen minutes. I’ll give him fifteen minutes to case the place.”
“I can’t guarantee anything,” Drake said. “My operatives are pretty clever at spotting men who are waiting around like that, but you just can’t tell what the setup is, and—”
“I know,” Mason said. “I don’t want the impossible. I just want to know whether the place is being watched.”
“And if it is?” Drake asked.
“I want to find out about it.”
“All right,” Drake said, “I’ll have a man there in fifteen minutes. I have a man sitting right here in the office who’s good. I’ll put him on the job.”
“Does he know me?” Mason asked.
“He knows you by sight. He’ll pick you up all right.”
“All right. I’ll be there within thirty minutes. I’ll park my car a block or two away and walk past the entrance to the apartment without looking in. Have your man pick me up and brief me on the situation. Can do?”
“Can do and will do,” Drake said.
“How long you going to be there, Paul?”
“Probably all night. At least until something definite breaks.”
“Okay, I’ll be calling you.”