The Case of the Horrified Heirs (8 page)

"Where was he parked?" Mason asked. "Could you see the parking place from which he drove his car? That might tell us how long he'd been waiting. I presume parking places right in front of your apartment house are hard to find."

"I'll say they are!" she exclaimed. "But this man didn't have any trouble. He parked right in front of the fireplug."

"Then he hadn't been there very long," Mason said. "That means he must have followed you home rather than been there waiting. I would think the police would check that fireplug space rather often."

"They do! I had a friend who parked just long enough to leave a parcel, yet she got a parking ticket. It wasn't over a minute."

"You think the first number on the license plate was a zero?" Mason asked.

"Yes, I'm quite certain of that, and I think the last number was a two, but I'm not at all certain of that."

"You're in Bakersfield now?" Mason asked.

"Yes. I went out to Mr. Bannock's brother's place to check with him and found that someone had been out there; gone through all the files."

"What do you mean by 'going through them'?" Mason asked.

She described the files.

Mason's voice became crisp with authority.

"Now, this is important, Virginia. You say the files were all cut open?"

"Yes."

"Every single bundle?"

"Yes."

"And their contents spread out?"

"Yes."

"No single bundle was intact?"

"No."

"You're sure of that?"

"Why, yes. Why is it important, Mr. Mason?"

"Because," Mason said, "it indicates a strong probability that the person who is searching didn't find what he was looking for.

"In other words, if you're looking for a particular paper and you're in a hurry, you cut open bundle after bundle of papers until you find the one you want; then you shove it in your pocket and get away from there fast. That would leave some bundles that hadn't been cut open.

"But if, on the other hand, all of the bundles are cut open, it's a pretty good indication that the person didn't find what he was looking for."

"I never thought of that," she said.

"You're going back to Julian Bannock's?"

"Yes, I'm taking some cardboard cartons and am going back and I'll try to make some semblance of order out of those files."

"All right," Mason said, "by the time you get back there, we'll find out something about your man who is interested in the files… Now, tell me, Virginia, what about wills?"

"What do you mean?"

"When Bannock would prepare a will it would usually be executed there in the office?"

"Yes."

"Who would be the subscribing witnesses?"

"Oh, I see what you mean. He would usually sign as one of the subscribing witnesses and I would sign as the other witness."

"And you had a classification of various wills? In other words, you had a file number designating wills that you had executed in the office?"

"Oh, yes, I see what you mean now. Files numbered five thousand to six thousand were wills."

"All right," Mason said, "when you go back take a look at the five to six thousand 'will' file. See how intact it is. Tie that file up and bring it here just as fast as you can make it."

"Why that file in particular?" she asked.

Mason said, "Bannock has been dead for a few years. Most of the agreements and things that he had drawn would no longer be important, but if some relative wanted to find out what was in a certain will-"

"I get you," she interrupted excitedly. "Why didn't I think of that. Of course, that's what it is."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Mason warned. "This is just a thought, but I think we'd better take precautions."

"I'm going right back," she promised, "and I'll keep that file of wills with me. I'll leave the other papers for a later trip."

Mason said, "If anything else happens that is in any way out of the ordinary, give me a ring. In the meantime, I'm going to find out something about this visitor of yours."

Virginia promised to report anything new that happened; hung up the telephone; went to a supermarket, secured two cartons and then returned to Julian Bannock's place.

She found Bannock apprehensive.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Did something else happen about those files?"

"You hadn't been gone five minutes," he said, "when a fellow showed up here who fitted the description you had given me of the man you thought was here. He was in his late forties or early fifties, had a mustache and eyes that were so dark you couldn't see any expression in them. It was like looking at a pair of black, polished stones."

"That was the man all right," she said. "What did he want?"

"Said his name was Smith, and he asked about my brother's files."

"What did you do?"

"I told him that we weren't letting people look at those files. He said it was important and I told him that he could sit right here and wait; that my brother's secretary was going to be here in an hour or so and that he could wait for her."

"What happened?"

"That gave him a jolt-knowing that you were coming here. He said he couldn't wait."

"Were you able to get his license number?" she asked eagerly.

"No, I wasn't," Julian said, "because he'd plastered mud all over it. There's a place up here where irrigating water sometimes runs over the road and there was quite a puddle up there that he'd gone through, but it wasn't mud that would cover a license number. I think he'd got out and deliberately plastered mud on the license."

"Well," Virginia said, "I'm going to get at those files, tie them up again and I think I'd better take some of them with me, if you have no objection."

"Take them all if you want," he said. "I can't be here all the time and if there's anything important in those papers, people could sneak in while I'm out in the fields someplace and get hold of them."

She asked, "Have you ever heard of Perry Mason, the attorney?"

"I'll say I have. I've read a lot about him."

"Well," Virginia said, "he's my lawyer. He's advising me, and I'm going to get in touch with him and do exactly as he says.

"I was going to clean up all these files and put them in boxes, but I don't have time now. I'm just grabbing this file with these numbers-let's look around and see if there are any more of these files here that have numbers between five thousand and six thousand."

Virginia scooped up a number of filing jackets that were all together and had numbers between five and six thousand. Then she and Julian made a hasty search for any other papers numbered within those brackets.

"They seem to have been all together in that bunch," Julian said.

"All right," Virginia told him. "Now, I'm going to rush these in to Mr. Mason's office. I want to get in there before lunch, if possible. Will you do the best you can to see that these others aren't disturbed while I'm gone?"

"You want me to put them in boxes?" Julian asked. "I'm sort of busy this time of year, what with irrigation and-"

"No," she said, "just leave them the way they are, if you can. But put a lock on the door-you know, a padlock. Try to keep anyone from coming in the barn.

"If anyone should try to get in, be sure to get his license number and make him give you proof of his identity. Ask to see his driving license."

"Will do," Julian said, grinning. "You don't want to go in the house and change into jeans and blouse?"

"No, there isn't time. I'm on my way. I hope I didn't get too dusty. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, ma'am," he said, and then added, "I know how much my brother thought of you and I guess he sure was a good judge of character."

She flashed him a smile, jumped in her car, placed the carton with the five-to-six thousand classification in the back seat, and took off.

CHAPTER NINE

It was shortly after noon when Virginia reached Perry Mason's office.

Gertie, the receptionist, said, "Hello, Miss Baxter, they're expecting you, but I'd better give them a buzz and let them know you're here."

Gertie buzzed the phone, and a moment later Della Street came out and said, "Right this way, Virginia. We have some news for you."

Virginia followed Della Street into Mason's private office to find the lawyer frowning thoughtfully, "We've traced your mysterious visitor, Virginia," Mason said. "The one who gave you the name of George Menard. \Ve traced him through his parking at the fireplug. We went through all the parking tickets issued by the officer who patrols that district. There were three fireplug parking tickets. One of them was for a license number ODT 062. That car is registered to a man whose description is very similar to that of the man who called on you."

"Who is he?"

"His real name is George Eagan, and he is employed as a chauffeur for Lauretta Trent. So we did a little checking and-"

"Lauretta Trent?" Virginia exclaimed.

"You know her?" Mason asked.

"Why, we did some legal work for her and-Why, yes, I'm quite certain we made at least one will for her. I have rather a vague memory that it was an unusual will. The relatives were given rather small amounts, all things considered, and there was an outsider who got the bulk of the estate. It may have been a nurse-or a doctor. Heavens! It could have been the chauffeur!"

Mason said, "We've found out some rather interesting things."

"About the chauffeur?"

"About Lauretta Trent. She has recently had three attacks of so-called food poisoning. The hospital records describe them as gastroenteric upsets."

Virginia said, "I've got all the old copies of wills locked in my car down in the parking lot, Mr. Mason, if it would help any…"

"It will help a lot," Mason said. "I'm going to introduce you to Paul Drake, our detective. He handles all our investigative work; he's head of the Drake Detective Agency, which is on this floor-Give him a ring, will you please, Della?"

Della Street asked Gertie for an outside line. Her fingers flew over the dial. After a moment, she said, "Paul, Della. Perry would like to have you come to the office right away, if you can."

Della smiled and hung up. "He'll be here within a matter of seconds."

And it was only a matter of seconds before Paul Drake's code knock sounded on the door.

Della opened the door and let him in.

"Paul," Mason said, "this is Virginia Baxter. You probably don't know it but she's the client whom I've been representing and is the reason you have been doing this investigative work."

"I see," Drake said, smiling at Virginia. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Baxter."

Mason said, "She has some papers locked in her car down in the parking lot. Could you help her bring them up?"

"How heavy?" Drake asked. "Do I need anyone to help me?"

"Oh, no," she said, "it's a bundle of papers probably twenty inches thick. But one man can lift them."

"Let's go," Drake said.

"There's one more thing I wanted to tell you, Mr. Mason," Virginia said. "While I was away from Julian Bannock's ranch, or farm, or whatever you call it, and telephoning you and getting ready to go back and get those papers, this man showed up at the ranch."

"What man?"

"The one who called on me. Eagan, you say he is, the chauffeur for Mrs. Trent."

"And what did he want?"

"He wanted to look at some of the old files of Delano Bannock. Julian-that's the brother-told him to wait, that I was going to be back there within a few minutes."

"And what happened?"

"The man jumped in his car and drove off, going fast."

"I see," Mason said, and nodded to Drake. "Let's get those papers, Paul."