Any student of character will concede that outstanding examples of class run contrary to type. The best detectives look like clerks. The best gamblers look like bankers. And nothing in Perry Mason’s appearance indicated that his agile brain, unconventional methods, and daring technique made him the city’s most feared and respected trial lawyer.
Seated in his office, he regarded the young woman who sat in the big leather chair, holding a caged canary in her lap. His steady eyes held none of the gimlet qualities so frequently associated with cross-examiners, but were, instead, filled with patience, touched with sympathy. His rugged features might have been carved from granite.
“That canary,” he said, with the quiet insistence of one who will continue to repeat his statements until he has scored his point, “has a sore foot.”
The young woman shifted the cage from her lap to the floor, as though trying to keep the lawyer from seeing too much. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, and then added by way of explanation, “he’s a little frightened.”
Mason appraised the youthful lines of her figure, the neatly shod feet, the long tapering fingers of the gloved hands. “So,” he said, “your business with me was urgent enough to make you crash the gate.”
She tilted her chin defiantly. “My business is important. It couldn’t wait, and neither could I.”
“I take it,” the lawyer remarked musingly, “patience isn’t one of your virtues.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, “that patience was a virtue.”
“You wouldn’t. What’s your name?”
“Rita Swaine.”
“How old are you, Miss Swaine?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Where do you live?”
“1388 Chestnut Street,” she said, glancing across at Della Street, whose pen was busy making copperplate shorthand notes.
“That’s all right,” Mason assured her, “you needn’t worry about Miss Street. She’s my secretary. Do you live in an apartment house?”
“Yes. Apartment 408.”
“Telephone?”
“Not in my name. There’s a switchboard service.”
“What do you want to see me about?”
She lowered her eyes and hesitated.
“About the canary?” Mason asked.
“No,” she said hastily, “not about the canary.”
“Do you usually carry a canary with you?”
She laughed nervously and said, “Of course not. I don’t understand why you attach so much importance to the canary.”
“Because,” he told her, “so few of my clients bring canaries to the office.”
She started to say something, then checked herself. Mason glanced significantly at his wrist watch and his action started her talking. “I want you to help my sister, Rossy,” she said. “That’s short for Rosalind. About six months ago she married Walter Prescott. He’s an insurance adjuster, and he married her for her money. He manipulated things so he got most of it and— and now he’s trying to make trouble for Rossy.”
“What sort of trouble?” Mason asked as she hesitated.
“Trouble over Jimmy.”
“Who’s Jimmy?”
“Jimmy Driscoll. She was going with him before she married Walter.”
“And Driscoll’s still in love with her?” Mason asked.
She shook her head emphatically and said, “No. Jimmy’s in love with me.”
“Then why should your sister’s husband—”
“Well, Jimmy wrote her a letter, as a friend.”
“What sort of a letter?”
“Rosalind started it. She wrote to Jimmy and told him she was unhappy, and Jimmy wrote to her, just as a friend, and advised her to break away from Walter. He said Walter had only married her for her money, and that marriage was just like a financial investment, your first loss was your best loss. You see,” she went on with a nervous laugh, “Jimmy’s in the brokerage business and handled Rosalind’s investments for her before her marriage, so she’d understand what he meant by that sort of talk.”
“He didn’t handle her investments after marriage?”
“No.”
“And Walter Prescott got this letter Driscoll wrote?”
“That’s right.”
Mason’s face showed his interest. “And,” the girl in the pearl-gray suit went on quickly, “I don’t think Rossy knows how Jimmy feels toward me. You see, we never mention his name. But I have some money of my own, and, after Rossy’s marriage, Jimmy kept right on handling my investments, and I went out with him quite a bit.”
“And your sister knows nothing of this?”
“No — at any rate, I don’t think so.”
“What’s Prescott going to do about the letter?” Mason asked.
“He’s going to sue Rossy for divorce, claiming that she’s kept up her old affair with Jimmy. And he’s going to sue Jimmy for alienation of affections because he put in the letter about Walter’s marrying her for her money and told her she’d better leave him.”
Mason shook his head. “I don’t handle divorce cases.”
“Oh, but you must handle this. I haven’t told you everything yet.”
Mason glanced quizzically across at Della Street, smiled and said, “Well, then, suppose you tell me everything.”
“Walter got about twelve thousand dollars from Rossy.He said he was going to invest it in his business and she’d get better than ten percent on her money, and the investment would increase in value. Now he swears he never received a cent from her.”
“Can she prove that he did?”
“I’m afraid not. You know how it is with things like that. A woman certainly wouldn’t ask her husband to give her a receipt. Rosalind had some bonds and she gave them to Walter and told him to sell them and put the money in the business. Walter admits he sold some securities for her, but he claims the money was turned over to her. And George Wray, that’s Walter’s partner — Prescott & Wray in the Doran Building, Insurance Adjusters — says it’s absurd to think that Walter put any such amount of money in the business. He says they’ve been taking money out of the business instead of putting it in.
“So you see what’s happening. Walter’s got that money and he’s trying now to put Rossy in the wrong so he can get away with it.”
“Yes,” Mason told her, “I think you’d better see some good lawyer who specializes in domestic relations and...”
“No. No. We want you. You see— Well, something happened this morning.”
Mason smiled at her and said, “Now listen, young lady, I’m not interested in divorce cases. I like trial work. I specialize in murder cases. I like mysteries. I sympathize with your sister, but I’m not interested in her case. There are hundreds of competent attorneys in the city who will be glad to represent her.”
The young woman’s lips trembled. “I w-w-w-wish you’d at least hear what I have to s-s-s-say,” she said, blinking back tears. But, apparently recognizing the futility of her appeal, she hooked the middle finger of her right hand through the ring in the wire cage, and prepared to arise from the big leather chair.
Mason said, “Wait a minute. I’m interested in that canary. Odd things like that stick in my mind. Now, I want to know why you carried that canary into my office.”
“That’s what I wanted to t-t-tell you. I was working up to it in my own w-w-w-way.”
“Go ahead and tell me,” Mason said, “and then perhaps I can forget it. Otherwise I’ll be wasting the entire afternoon speculating on the thing, trying to uncover some logical explanation.”
“Well,” she said, “I was over at Rosalind’s house this morning, cutting the canary’s claws with a nail clipper. You know, a canary in a cage has to have the tips clipped off his claws every so often. And while I was doing that, Jimmy came — and told me he loved me, and took me in his arms, and the canary got away — and then two automobiles smashed into each other right in front of the house— And I looked up at the window, and there was Mrs. Snoops watching us, and a man was hurt in the automobile accident, and Jimmy ran out, and the officers got his name and license number, and Jimmy will be called as a witness when they try the automobile damage case, and Walter will say that Jimmy came to his h-h-h-house without his c-c-consent, and— And— Dammit! I hate to b-b-b-bawl, and you’ve made me c-c-cry.”
She snapped open her purse, fished out a square of scented lace and jabbed furiously at the tears which oozed from her eyes.
Mason settled back in his chair with a deep sigh of contentment. “An automobile accident, a love story, a lame canary, and Mrs. Snoops. What could be better? Something seems to tell me that I’m going to take your sister’s case. At any rate, I’m going to hear all about it. Now quit crying and tell me about Mrs. Snoops.”
Rita Swaine blew her nose, tried to smile away her tears, and said, “I hate to cry. Usually I take things on the chin. Don’t think I put on an act to impress you, Mr. Mason, because I didn’t.”
He nodded and said, “Who’s Mrs. Snoops?”
“We call her Mrs. Snoops because she’s such an old busybody. Her name’s Stella Anderson. She’s a widow who has the house next door, and she’s always snooping and prying into other people’s business.”
“And Jimmy told you he loved you?”
“Yes.”
“And this was over at Rosalind’s house?”
“Yes.”
“How did Jimmy happen to come there to tell you he loved you, and where was Rosalind?”
“Well,” she said, drying the last of her tears, “Walter found Jimmy’s letter and started making an awful scene. He went to see his lawyer and Rossy was afraid he was going to do something terrible. He’d threatened to kill her, and Rossy thought he might do it. She wanted to leave right away. So she ran out of the house and was afraid to go back.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know exactly what time. It was early this morning, around nine or ten o’clock, I think. Well, anyway, a little after eleven, Rossy telephoned me and told me what had happened, and asked me to go over to the house and pack up her clothes in her wardrobe trunk and a couple of suitcases which were in the closet of her bedroom. You see, her house is over at 1396 Alsace Avenue. Walter bought it just before they were married. It’s only a couple of blocks from where I live.”
“You have a key to the house?” Mason asked.
She shook her head.
“How did you get in, then?”
“Oh,” she said, “Rossy just ran out and left the doors unlocked. Walter said he was going to kill her, and she was frightened.”
“And the canary?” Mason asked.
“It’s her canary. She’s had it for years. She wanted me to keep it for her. Walter would have killed it just out of spite. That’s how mean he is. He’ll be simply furious when he returns and finds her gone.”
Mason said, “I’m sorry. I should have let you walk out, then I could have indulged in a lot of speculation as to what combination of circumstances had forced a frightened young woman to carry a caged canary through the streets and into my office. Now you’ve explained a perfectly intriguing mystery into an uninteresting commonplace.”
Her eyes showed indignation.
“I’m so sorry I bored you, Mr. Mason!” she blazed. “After all, my sister’s happiness doesn’t mean a thing as compared with your entertainment!”
The lawyer smiled and shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong,” he explained. “I’m going to see you through. That’s the price I’ll pay for indulging my curiosity. So go ahead and tell me the rest of it.”
“You mean you’re going to represent her?”
Mason nodded.
Her face showed relief. “That’s splendid of you.”
“Not at all,” Mason said wearily. “I became interested in that canary. The only legitimate reason I had to pry into your private affairs was as your attorney. So I made my decision and will pay the price. The fact that I’m about to embark on a distasteful case naturally needn’t concern you. So Jimmy Driscoll told you he loved you, did he?”
She nodded.
“Had he ever told you that before?” Mason asked, watching her shrewdly.
“No,” she said, “never before.” And her eyes dropped down to rest on the caged canary.
“But you knew it, of course,” Mason went on.
“Well, not exactly,” she said in a low voice. “I knew that I liked him and I hoped he liked me. But it came as a surprise.”
“And how,” Mason asked, “did it happen that Jimmy Driscoll came over to Rosalind’s house?”
She lifted her eyes to his, then, and said, “He went to my apartment first. The clerk at the desk over there thinks Jimmy is just about right. Jimmy was able to make him a little money once, so the clerk told him that my sister had called and seemed very much excited and that I’d dashed over to her house in a hurry.”
“He’d been listening in on the wire?” Mason asked.
“No, I don’t think so. He knows Rossy’s voice, so he knew she’d called, and then when I left I told him where I was going.”
“So Jimmy went over to Rosalind’s house?”
“Yes. You see, it’s only a couple of blocks.”
“And found you there?”
“Yes.”
“And you told him Rossy had left?”
“Yes.”
“And then what happened?”
Once more her eyes avoided the lawyer’s.
“Well,” she said, “we talked for a while, and I was holding the canary in my hand and clipping his claws, and then the first thing I knew Jimmy’s arms were around me, and he told me how he loved me, and I let go of the canary and clung to him. And then, while I was trying to catch this canary, all of a sudden there was this terrible crash out in front of the house, and, naturally, we ran to the living room window — we were in the solarium at the time — and found this big covered moving van and a coupe had had a smash-up, and of course the coupe had got the worst of it. The driver was hurt, and Jimmy ran out to help lift the driver out of the coupe. The driver of the van said he could rush the man to the hospital quicker than waiting for an ambulance, so he and Jimmy loaded him in the van.”
“Then Jimmy came back into the house?” Mason asked.
She nodded.
“And what happened after that?”
“Well, we talked things over, and I decided perhaps he’d better leave, because Walter was going to make trouble and I didn’t think it would be a good thing for people to know Jimmy had been there in the house. I thought he might be called as a witness to that automobile accident. You see, he’d parked his car on the side street and I thought perhaps the driver of the van would come back and try to involve Jimmy in some way. And Mrs. Snoops had been watching us when Jimmy took me in his arms, and—”
“So Jimmy left the house?”
“Yes. But Mrs. Snoops must have telephoned for the police when the accident happened, because when Jimmy walked out of the house, he walked right into the arms of a couple of officers who’d driven up in a radio car. They asked questions about the accident and took Jimmy’s name and address. They made him show them his driving license so he had to give them his right name.”
“What time was this?” Mason asked.
“It must have been two or three hours ago. I think it was right about noon when the accident happened.”
“What time did Rosalind call you?”
“Around ten or eleven o’clock, I think— I can’t tell exactly.”
“Well,” Mason said, “if you want me to represent your sister in the divorce action, you’d better have her come in and talk with me.”
Rita Swaine nodded, leaned across the arm of the chair and spoke rapidly. “Yes, that’s all right, Mr. Mason, I’ll have her do that, but don’t you think it would be a good plan to fix things so we could keep Walter from ever finding out that Jimmy was there at the house? You see, Rosalind left this morning and Walter might make it appear that Jimmy had something to do with her leaving.”
“But Jimmy is in love with you,” Mason said.
She nodded.
“Well, then,” Mason said, “why not simply come out and say so? Why not announce your engagement?”
“Because,” she said, “people would think it was something Jimmy, Rosalind and I had cooked up to keep Walter from getting anywhere with his case.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve thought of that, have you?”
“Why,” she said, “it seems to me the logical thing for Walter’s lawyer to claim. So I thought perhaps you could investigate this accident, and if the man in the coupe was in the wrong, fix it so he didn’t sue, and if the driver of the van was responsible, see that they made a prompt settlement so there wouldn’t be any lawsuit. Then it wouldn’t come out that it was Jimmy who was there in the house.”
“How seriously was the man injured?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know. He was unconscious when Jimmy helped load him in the van.”
“Do you know who owned the van?”
“Yes, there was a sign. It’s ‘Trader’s Transfer Company.’ ”
“How about the coupe?”
“It’s still out in front,” she said, “pretty badly smashed. The license number is 6T2993, and the registration certificate wrapped around the steering post shows that it’s registered in the name of Carl Packard, who lives at 1836 Robinson Avenue, Altaville, California.”
Mason nodded, turned to Della Street and said, “Ring the Drake Detective Agency, Della. Ask Paul Drake to step in here.” Then to Rita Swaine, “I’ll get busy right away and see what can be done about that automobile accident. In the meantime, you tell your sister to come in and see me.”
“I don’t know just where Rossy is right now,” she said, “but as soon as I hear from her I’ll tell her to come in.”
“Where can I reach you?” Mason asked.
“I’ll be at my apartment.”
The lawyer glanced across at his secretary. “You have the address, Della?”
“Yes,” Della Street said. “What’s your telephone number, Miss Swaine?”
“Ordway six-naught-nine-two-two.”
Mason arose, crossed the office, and opened the corridor door.
“Isn’t there a retainer to be paid now?” Rita Swaine asked, opening her purse and pulling out a sheaf of currency.
“Now now,” Mason told her. “After all, you know, I asked for this... And you’d better put that money in the bank, young lady. Good Lord! You don’t carry sums like that around in your purse, do you?”
“Of course not. I thought you’d want some money before you went ahead with the case, so I stopped at the bank and got two thousand dollars.”
Mason started to say something, then smiled, held the door open for her and said, “Well, you’d better put it back in the bank, Miss Swaine. I’ll fix a fee later on when I feel more generous. Right now I can only think of you as a young woman who spoiled a mystery. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Mason,” she said. She put the money back in her purse, picked up the canary cage and walked rapidly from the office. In the corridor she paused to inquire, “Do you know anything about the pet store that’s in this block?”
“The man who runs it,” Mason said, “was once a client of mine. He’s an old German, quite a character. Karl Helmold’s the name. Why did you ask?”
“I thought I’d leave Dickey there for a while.”
“That’s the canary?”
“Yes. Then, when Rossy gets settled she can send for him. But I’d want to be certain that Walter wouldn’t know where I’d left him.”
“I’m quite sure,” Mason said, “you can trust the discretion of Karl Helmold. Tell him I sent you.”
She nodded, and her clacking heels echoed rapid steps as she walked toward the elevator.
Mason closed the door and turned to Della Street.
“That,” he said, making a wry grimace, “is what comes of trying murder cases. I’m constantly translating everyday occurrences into terms of the bizarre. That girl came in here carrying a caged canary. She was excited, nervous and upset, and I, like a fool, began to clothe her with all sorts of mysterious backgrounds.”
“Why didn’t you refuse to take her case, Chief?” Della Street asked.
“Not after I’d pried into her private affairs, Della. Remember, this is just a business with us. It’s something else to the client. The sister’s divorce case is a chore to me, but right now it’s the most important thing in that young woman’s life — except her love affair with Jimmy Driscoll.”
Della Street surveyed the lawyer with thoughtfully speculative eyes. “Chief,” she said, “speaking to you as a woman who is under no illusions as to her sex, and is, therefore, immune to feminine wiles and tearful entreaties, did it occur to you there’s something strange about the way she reacted to that love affair? She wouldn’t look you in the eyes when she talked about it. She acted as though it were something furtive, something to be concealed, something of which she was ashamed. Don’t you think that she may have doublecrossed her sister more than she admits — in order to get Jimmy, I mean?”
Mason chuckled delightedly and said, “There you go, Della. I tell you, it’s too many murder cases. First it’s a caged canary which throws me for a loss, then this love affair gets you. What we need’s a vacation. What do you say we chuck the whole business and take a trip around the world? I’ll look into the jurisprudence of the different countries we visit, and you can take notes on what I find.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean it, Chief?”
“Yes.”
“How about the law business?”
“We’ll leave it. Jackson can handle routine matters while I’m gone, and there’ll be plenty of big things when we get back.”
“And how about this case?”
“Oh,” Mason said casually, “we’ll get Rossy out of her difficulties. That won’t take long.”
Della Street picked up the telephone and said to the exchange operator in the outer office, “Get me the Dollar Steamship Company on the line. Right away, please, before the boss changes his mind.”