“She could of course vanish,” Mason said. “Suppose Otto Olney gets ready to try his lawsuit and can’t find Maxine. Suppose Durant indignantly denies that he ever said the Feteet was spurious. Suppose he claims that Olney’s suit has discredited him as an expert, that the resulting publicity has irreparably damaged him — damn it, Della, I’ve just got a feeling, an intuitive feeling predicated on that guy’s phoney performance, that I’ve led with my chin somewhere along the line.”
“You haven’t,” Della Street said.
“The hell I haven’t,” Mason said. “I’m the one that suggested to Rankin that he get Olney to file suit. I’m the one that told Olney’s attorneys about how it should be handled.
“Olney is vulnerable to the extent that every rich man is vulnerable. A case comes up in front of a jury. Durant is the young, ambitious art dealer trying to get ahead. He makes a pathetic picture in front of a jury. Olney, the big contractor, filed suit against Durant, without first calling on Durant and giving him an opportunity to explain. The first thing Durant knew, out of a clear sky he sees himself blasted in the press as a phoney, a man who has branded a painting as spurious. Actually, he claims, he never said any such thing, and if Otto Olney had taken the trouble to investigate instead of breaking into the front page of the newspapers, he would have learned that the whole thing was a mistake on the part of the woman he was relying on as a witness.”
“Then, do you think Maxine is in on it?” Della Street asked.
“I don’t know,” Mason said, “but I’m going to find out... You know, that’s the tragic part of those cases where the jewelers were sued for putting the man in jail over the weekend. They just didn’t have guts enough to fight and to dig into the guy’s past, to check on the girl and find out all about her... Come on, Della, we’re going up to Drake’s office and see that he has a sleepless night. By this time tomorrow we’re going to know all there is to know about the background of Maxine Lindsay and all we can find out about Collin M. Durant.”
“All on the strength of the fact that you didn’t like Durant?” Della Street asked.
“All on the strength of the fact that Durant impresses me as a phoney,” Mason said, “and if Otto Olney with his money has been trapped into a situation of this sort, I intend to beat everybody to the punch. I want to get all the ammunition I need to do a little shooting of my own.”
“And if it turns out to be a false alarm?” Della asked.
“Then we’ve given Paul Drake a good job,” Mason said, “and have at least laid the foundation for me to get a good night’s sleep. I tell you, Della, I’ve cross-examined too many witnesses to be taken in by a phoney act of the kind Durant tried, and Durant was putting on an act; that much I’ll stake money on. We’re going up to Drake’s office and start the ball rolling.”
Chapter Six
Mason and Della Street left the elevator just as the door of the entrance office to the Drake Detective Agency opened and Paul Drake emerged.
“Well, hello, you two,” Drake said. “Headed for your office for a spot of night work? I didn’t think you were going to be up.”
“We’re headed for your office,” Mason said, “and we’ve got a lot of night work for you.”
“Oh, no!” Drake moaned. “This was the night I was going to catch that show I’ve been trying to see for so long. I’ve got a line out on your girl friend, Maxine. I’ve got a choice ticket and—”
“And you’re turning it in,” Mason said. “Come on back, Paul.”
“What’s the trouble?” Drake said. “Another murder?”
“Hell, no,” Mason told him. “I wish it were another murder. Those things are simple. This is something I’m involved in.”
Drake glanced inquiringly at Della Street.
“He’s taken a button and sewn a vest on it,” Della Street said, “but I guess you’re going to have to go to work.”
“All right,” Drake said, “come on in. Incidentally, I left a note for you. As I told Della on the phone, your Maxine has been calling. She left a number. I said I didn’t think you’d be in at all tonight. Here’s the number. Want to call her? I gave her Della’s number. Calling her now would save having Della disturbed later.”
Mason shook his head. “Later, not now. I want to think things over for a few minutes — want to talk them over.”
Drake held the door open for them, said to the girl at the switchboard, “Here’s a theater ticket. Give it to one of the operatives to surrender for cash, to peddle, or he can see the show.”
Drake opened the wicket gate which led to the long runway with little offices opening on each side, and Della Street led the way down the familiar alleyway to Drake’s office.
Drake seated Della Street, indicated a chair for Mason, then seated himself behind the desk on which there were several telephones.
Mason said, “Damn it, Paul, I wish you’d get a bigger office! There isn’t room for me to pace and I can’t think without pacing.”
Drake grinned. “You just tell me your troubles, Perry, and then go down to your office and start pacing while you plan how you’re going to get enough money out of your client to pay my bill, because I’m adding the price of a scalper’s theater ticket to my services tonight, as general overhead.”
Mason said, “The hell of it is, Paul, Della Street is right. I’ve taken a button and sewn a vest on it — but the vest matches the button.”
“Well?” Drake asked.
“The button is real,” Mason said, “and for the life of me I can’t see how it fits into the picture unless it goes on a vest.”
“All right, tell me about the vest,” Drake said.
Mason said, “It’s like the old phoney jewelry store bad-check racket, Paul, where the con man traps the jeweler into ordering his arrest over the weekend.”
“Who’s the victim?”
“Otto Olney.”
“Not on that painting deal,” Drake said. “I read about that in the evening papers.”
“It’s that painting deal,” Mason said.
“What’s the matter, Perry, is the painting phoney?”
“No, the painting is absolutely genuine.”
“Well, then what does anyone have to worry about?”
“I’m not certain Olney can prove that Durant said it wasn’t genuine.”
“For heaven sakes, didn’t Olney tie that up before he started suit?” Drake asked. “He has a good firm of attorneys. I happen to know them, Warton, Warton, Cosgrove and Hollister.”
“Sure, they’re good,” Mason said, “and I’m the one that sewed up that angle for them. I had Della take an affidavit from this girl, Maxine Lindsay, to whom Durant made the statement.”
“You have the affidavit?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, what’s wrong?” Drake asked.
“I have an idea Maxine is planning to run out on us.”
“Well, how about getting in touch with her right now?” Drake asked. “We can call her at the number she left.”
“Not right now,” Mason said. “I’m going to see her, and I’d like to find out something about her before we see her.”
“Tell me the rest of it,” Drake said.
“Now here’s what happened. Durant got in touch with me tonight and put on an act. It was an act. I’m absolutely positive of that.”
“How do you know?” Drake asked.
There was a moment’s silence.
Drake turned to Della Street. “Did he trap him in some contradictory statement, Della?”
She shook her head and said, “Instinct.”
Drake grinned.
“Don’t grin,” Mason said. “I’ve cross-examined enough witnesses so I can tell when a man’s putting on an act. Durant got in touch with me and put on an act. It was something he’d carefully rehearsed. It was something that was an essential step in the particular type of bunco game the guy is pulling.