“But that’s right near the Arthenium Hotel!” Susan Fisher exclaimed.
“That’s right.”
“Oh, I’ll be there. I’m so grateful. I... Oh, please tell Mr. Mason I can’t thank him enough.”
Chapter 3
Della Street, looking over the rim of her demitasse cup, said in a low voice, “Unless my judgment of facial expression is in error, the young woman who just entered the place unescorted and is now standing by the reservations desk is the one who telephoned Paul Drake and is so concerned about the dishonest management of the company where she works.”
Mason, who had his back to the entrance, said, “Give me a run-down, Della. While she’s waiting, give me the benefit of your feminine appraisal.”
“Not bad-looking, from a masculine standpoint,” Della Street said. “A nice figure, curves in the right places; rather modest, demure—”
“Not from a masculine standpoint,” Mason interrupted. “Masculine observations of women are notoriously inaccurate. Let me have it from the feminine viewpoint, Della.”
“I don’t know how much she makes,” Della Street said, “but on a secretarial salary I would say that the clothes she’s wearing indicate she’s alone in the world. She isn’t supporting any mother, father, or younger brothers. She knows how to wear her clothes, too. She’s neat — what you’d call well groomed.”
“What color hair?”
“Darkish. Not coal black. Sort of a dark chestnut.”
“Natural?” Mason asked.
“Heaven knows,” Della Street said, “particularly at this distance. You probably couldn’t tell anyway.”
“Eyes?” Mason asked.
“Rather dark. You can’t get the color from here. Either black or dark brown. She’s a little lady. She’s nervous but making a determined effort to be self-contained... Oh, oh, she’s got the head waiter now. Here she comes.”
The headwaiter said apologetically, “The young woman says she has an appointment, Mr. Mason.”
Mason arose.
Della Street said, “Are you Susan Fisher?” and when the other nodded, extended her hand. “I’m Della Street, Mr. Mason’s confidential secretary, and this is Mr. Mason.”
“Won’t you sit down?” Mason invited.
“I... I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Mason. I shouldn’t have disturbed you at dinner but this is a matter of the greatest importance.”
“All right,” Mason said, “let’s hear what it’s all about. Would you like a dessert, a liqueur, some coffee? I take it you’ve dined...”
“Yes. I had a snack — I have to be in the lobby of the Arthenium Hotel in exactly thirty minutes.”
“Well, then,” Mason said, “perhaps you’d better not waste time with coffee. Just sit down here and tell me everything that happened.”
It took Susan Fisher ten full minutes of rapid conversation to describe the events of the day.
When she had finished, Mason’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Well,” he said, “there isn’t time to head things off.”
“What do you mean? There’s almost twenty minutes. There—”
“No,” Mason said, “I meant to get witnesses who can verify the contents of the shoe box.”
“You think we should have?”
Mason nodded. “I think you should have had a witness as soon as you discovered what was in the box.”
“Why?”
“You don’t know how much was in there,” Mason said. “Neither does anyone else.”
“I know, but the shoe box is intact in the safe.”
“Who knows it’s intact?”
“Why, I do. I...”
Her dismayed voice trailed away into silence.
“Exactly,” Mason said. “You assume that the box is intact but suppose someone should claim there’s two thousand or five thousand dollars missing?”
“Yes,” she said. “I see your point.”
“Particularly in case that someone should want to discredit you,” Mason said.
“And why would anyone want to do that?”
“Because,” Mason told her, “apparently you have information about irregularities in the company. Under those circumstances some guilty party might very well try to involve you first.”
Mason abruptly signaled the waiter. “I think we’ll get over to the Arthenium Hotel as early as possible,” Mason told Susan. “Even if Campbell should show up only five minutes early, that would give us an extra five minutes and we may need it.”
“Then you’ll... you’ll represent me?”
Mason nodded. “At least to the extent of looking into it.”
She let her fingers close gratefully on his wrist. “Oh, Mr. Mason, I can’t tell you what it means to me. I’m beginning to realize... Well, this could have quite a blow-up and I... Gosh, I am in rather a vulnerable position as far as that money is concerned.”
“Carleton is too young to have counted it?”
“Heavens, yes.”
“How much money would you say was in the box?”
“I don’t know. It was a shoe box just crammed full of hundred-dollar bills. That could be quite a large amount, I take it.”
Mason nodded. The waiter brought the check. Mason signed it and nodded to Della Street.
“It’s only a block,” Mason said. “There’s no use getting the car out, then trying to find a parking place at the Arthenium. We’ll walk.”
They left the café and as they walked over to the lobby of the hotel Mason said, “Now, when we walk in, introduce me to Campbell as your lawyer if he’s there. If he isn’t, introduce me to him as soon as he walks in and then let me do the talking.”
“He’ll resent that,” Susan Fisher warned.
“I know he will,” Mason said. “But he’s going to resent me anyway and I think you need someone to represent you right from the start.”
“But after all, Mr. Mason, Miss Corning is the real boss. She’s over Mr. Campbell. She’s over everyone. She’s the one who pays my salary. I thought I should explain that to him and then perhaps we should wait to see if he makes some accusation of—”
“That’s not what I’m thinking of at all,” Mason said.
“But that’s the only reason I wanted you to be there — to tell him that under the law I was not only entitled to do what I did, but obligated to.”
Mason said, “I’m thinking of that shoe box full of money.”
“Well, it’s there in the safe and—”
“And,” Mason interrupted, “if Endicott Campbell simply decided to go to the office, open the safe, take out the shoe box full of money and place it where it would never be seen again, you haven’t any way on earth of proving that the shoe box was ever there.”
“Do you think he’d do that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Mason said, “but when a man has a shoe box full of hundred-dollar bills in his closet I take rather a dim view of his integrity and the Department of Internal Revenue shares my doubts... Well, here we are. Let’s go in.”
Susan Fisher, speechless with apprehension, walked through the door as Mason held it open for her.
Della Street squeezed Susan’s arm with her fingers. “It’s all right, Miss Fisher,” she said. “Just have confidence in Mr. Mason. He was simply trying to tell you the reason he wanted to conduct the conversation.”
“But heavens,” Susan Fisher said, “he... Of course, Mr. Campbell wouldn’t do a thing like that, but if he did...”
“Exactly,” Della Street said. “If he did, then what?”
“I don’t know,” Susan Fisher conceded.
“See him here?” Mason asked, as they looked around the lobby.
She shook her head.
Mason regarded his watch and frowned. “It’s a situation where we need every minute we can get... How is he generally on keeping appointments?”