The Case of the Horrified Heirs (2 page)

"No trouble," the porter hastily assured him. "No trouble at all, sir. It just didn't come in with the first load."

"There's been some baggage trouble," the man said to Virginia Baxter. "This is your suitcase?"

"Yes."

"You're sure of it?"

"Of course. That's my suitcase and overnight bag and I gave the checks for them to the porter."

"Could you describe the contents of the suitcase?"

"Why, certainly."

"Will you please do so?"

"Well, on top there's a three-quarter-length beige coat with a brown fur collar; there's a checked skirt and-"

"That will give us enough of a description to make sure," the man said. "Would you mind opening it up just so I can look inside?"

Virginia hesitated for a moment, then said, "Well, I guess it's all right."

"Is it locked?"

"No, I just have it closed."

The man snapped back the catches.

The porter lowered the truck so the suitcase would be level.

Virginia raised the cover and then recoiled at what she saw on the inside.

Her three-quarter-length coat was there, neatly folded, just as she had left it, but on top of the coat were several transparent plastic containers and inside these containers, neatly wrapped, an assortment of small packages.

"You didn't tell me about these," the man said. "What are they?"

"I… I don't know. I never saw them before in my life."

As though at a signal, a man with a press camera and a flash gun materialized from behind one of the pillars.

While Virginia was still trying to compose herself, the camera was thrust up into her face and her eyes were blinded by a brilliant flash of light.

The man, working with swift efficiency, ejected the bulb from the flash gun, inserted another bulb, pulled a slide back and forth on the back of the camera, and took another picture of the open suitcase.

The porter had backed hastily away so that he was not included in the pictures.

The officer said, "I'm afraid, madam, you're going to have to come with me."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain it," the officer said. "Your name is Virginia Baxter?"

"Yes. Why?"

"We've had a tip on you," the officer said. "We were told that you traffick in narcotics."

The photographer took one more picture, then turned and scurried away.

Virginia said to the officer, "Why, of course, I'll come with you, if you're going to try to clear this up. I haven't the faintest idea of how that stuff got in my suitcase."

"I see," the officer said, gravely. "You'll have to come to headquarters, I'm afraid. We'll have that stuff analyzed and see exactly what it is."

"And if it should turn out to be-narcotics?"

"Then we'll have to book you."

"But that's-that's crazy!"

"Bring the bags this way," the officer said to the porter, closing the suitcase.

He opened the overnight bag, disclosing jars of cream, a manicure set, a negligee, some bottles of lotion.

"Okay," he said. "This is all right, I guess, but we'll have to look in these jars and bottles. We'll just take both bags along with us."

He escorted Virginia to a plain black sedan, had the porter hoist the suitcase and overnight bag into the rear seat, put Virginia in the seat behind him and started the motor.

"You're going to headquarters?"

"Yes."

Virginia noticed then that there was a police radio on the car. The officer picked up the microphone and said, "Special Officer Jack Andrews leaving the airport with a female suspect and a suitcase containing suspicious material to be checked. Time is 10:17 A.M."

The officer replaced the microphone on a hook, pulled away from the curb, and guided the car expertly and swiftly in the direction of headquarters.

There Virginia was placed in charge of a policewoman and kept waiting for around fifteen minutes, then an officer delivered a folded paper to the policewoman. She looked at it and said, "This way, please."

Virginia followed her to a desk. "Your right hand, please."

The policewoman took Virginia's right hand before she realized what was happening, then grasping the thumb firmly, rolled it over a big pad and placed it on a piece of paper, rolling out a fingerprint.

"Now, the next finger," she said.

"You can't fingerprint me," Virginia said, pulling back. "Why, I-"

The grip on the finger tightened. "Now, just don't make it hard on yourself," the policewoman said. "The index finger, please."

"I refuse!– Good heavens, what have I done?" Virginia asked. "I-Why, this is a nightmare."

"You're privileged to make a telephone call," the woman said. "You can call an attorney, if you wish."

The words clicked in Virginia's mind.

"Where is a telephone directory?" she asked. "I want the office of Perry Mason."

A few moments later, Virginia had Della Street, Perry Mason's confidential secretary, on the line.

"May I speak with Perry Mason, please?"

"You'll have to tell me what it's about," Della Street said, "perhaps I can help you."

"I'm Virginia Baxter," she said. "I worked for Delano Bannock, the attorney, during his lifetime and up to his death a couple of years ago. I've seen Mr. Mason two or three times. He came to Mr. Bannock's office. He may remember me; I was the secretary and receptionist."

"I see," Della said. "What is the present problem, Miss Baxter?"

"I'm arrested for having narcotics in my possession," she said, "and I haven't the faintest idea of how they got there. I need Mr. Mason at once."

"Just a minute," Della said.

A moment later, Perry Mason's deep but well-modulated voice was on the line. "Where are you, Miss Baxter?"

"I'm at headquarters."

"Tell them to hold you right there, if they will, please," Mason said. "I'm on my way."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. I… I just haven't any idea how this happened and-"

"Never mind trying to explain over the telephone," Mason told her. "Don't say anything to anyone except to tell them to hold you right there, that I'm on my way. How are you fixed for bail? Could you put up bail?"

"I… if it isn't too high. I have a little property, not much."

"I'm on my way up," Mason said. "I want to demand that you be taken before the nearest and most accessible magistrate immediately. Just sit tight."

CHAPTER FOUR

Perry Mason invaded Virginia Baxter's nightmare and tore aside the web of unreality and terror.

"The magistrate has fixed bail at five thousand dollars," Mason said. "Can you raise that?"

"I'd have to draw out all of my checking account and withdraw money from the building and loan."

"That would be better than waiting in jail," Mason pointed out. "Now then, I want to know exactly what happened."

Virginia told him the events of the morning.

"You were on the plane, coming from where?"

"From San Francisco."

"What had you been doing in San Francisco?"

"I was visiting my aunt. I've been to see her several times lately. She's elderly, not at all well and she's all alone. She likes my visits."

"What are you doing? Are you working for a living?"

"Not steadily. I haven't been regularly employed since Mr. Bannock died. I have taken a few odd jobs."

"I take it, then, you have some income?" Mason asked.

"Yes," she said. "Mr. Bannock had no relatives, other than the one brother. He remembered me in his will. He gave me a piece of real property in Hollywood that produces an income and-"

"How long had you been with Bannock?"

"Fifteen years," she said. "I started working for him when I was twenty."

"You've been married?"

"Yes, once. It didn't take."

"Divorced?"

"No. We're separated, have been for some time."

"Friendly with your husband?"

"No."

"What's his name?"

"Colton Baxter."

"You go by the title 'Miss'?"

"Yes. I think it helps in secretarial employment."

"Now, you'd been to see your aunt. You got aboard that plane. What about the baggage? Anything unusual about the checking of the baggage?"

"No-Wait a minute, I had to pay excess baggage."

Mason's eyes showed swift interest. "You paid excess baggage?"

"Yes."

"Do you have your receipt?"

"It's attached to my ticket. That's in my purse. They took my purse away from me when I was booked."

"We'll get it back," Mason said. "Now then, you were traveling alone?"

"Yes."

"Remember anything about the person you were seated next to?"

"He was a man of about thirty-two or thirty-three, rather well-dressed but-Well, now that I stop to think of it, he was… well, there was something peculiar about him. He was cold, rather crisp in his manner, not like the ordinary passenger you encounter on those trips. It's hard to explain what I mean."

"Would you know him if you saw him again?" Mason asked.

"Yes, indeed."

"Could you identify him from a photograph?"

"I think so, if it's a clear photograph."

"You only had the one suitcase?" Mason asked.

"No, I had a suitcase and an overnight bag, an oblong bag containing cosmetics."

"What became of that?"

"They took it. The suitcase came through first. The porter picked it up and then picked up the overnight bag. At that moment, a man stepped forward and showed me his identification card and asked me if I had any objections to his taking a quick look in my suitcase because there had been some trouble. Since my baggage had been delayed coming off the plane, I thought that was what he referred to."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him what was in the suitcase and that it was all right for him to look."

"Can you remember anything more about the conversation?"

"Yes. He asked me first if that was my suitcase, and I told him it was, and he asked me if I could establish my ownership by identifying the contents. Then I described the contents, and he asked if it was all right to check."

Mason frowned thoughtfully, then said, almost casually, "Your baggage, that is, the two pieces together weighed more than forty pounds?"

"Yes. They weighed forty-six pounds taken together, and I paid excess baggage on the six pounds."

"I see," Mason said thoughtfully. "You're going to have to exercise a lot of self-control, and you're in for a disagreeable experience, but perhaps we can work things out one way or another."

"What I can't understand," she said, "is where the stuff came from and how it could have been placed in my suitcase. Of course, it was late coming off the plane, but one wouldn't think anyone could tamper with it out there on the field going from the plane to the baggage counter."

"There were several places it could have been tampered with," Mason said. "After you checked the suitcase and before it was put on the plane, someone could have opened it.

"We don't know where it was stored aboard the plane in the baggage compartment. We don't know whether anyone could have tampered with it in there.

"Then, of course, when it was taken off the plane, there was this delay. That means that the suitcase was probably placed on the ground, waiting for another truck to come along to pick it up. Now, the way those planes are built, the baggage comes out on the other side from the side which has the passenger entrance. While the suitcase was there on the ground, it wouldn't have been too difficult for someone to have opened it and inserted these packages of narcotics."