It was shortly before five o'clock when Gertie rang Della Street 's telephone and Della Street, taking the message, turned to Mason.
"Harrison T. Boring is in the outer office in person."
"What do you know!" Mason said.
"Do I show him in?"
"No," Mason said, "treat him like any other client. Go out, ask him if he has an appointment, get his name, address, telephone number and the nature of his business, and then show him in. In the meantime slip Gertie a note and have her call Paul Drake, tell him Boring is here and I want him shadowed from the moment he leaves."
"Suppose he won't give me his telephone number and tell me the nature of his business?"
"Throw him out," Mason said, "only be sure there's enough time for Paul to get a tail on him. He's either going to come in the way I want him to or he isn't going to come in at all. My best guess is the guy's scared."
Della Street left and was gone nearly five minutes. When she returned she said, "I think he's scared. He gave me his name, telephone number, address, and told me that you had said you wanted to have him call you upon a matter of importance, that rather than discuss it over the telephone he had decided to call in person since he had another appointment in the vicinity."
"All right," Mason said. "Now we'll let him come in."
Della Street ushered Harrison Boring into the office.
Boring was rather distinguished-looking, with broad shoulders, sideburns, keen gray eyes, and a certain air of dignity. He was somewhere in his late thirties, slim waisted and spare-fleshed, despite his broad shoulders. He had a close-clipped mustache which firmed his mouth.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Mason," he said. "I came to see you. You asked me to get in touch with you, and since I was here in the neighborhood on another matter I decided to come in."
"Sit down," Mason invited.
Boring accepted the seat, smiled, settled back, crossed his legs.
"Dianne Alder," Mason said.
There wasn't the faintest flicker of surprise on Boring's face.
"Oh, yes," he said. "A very nice young woman. I'm sorry the plans we had for her didn't materialize."
"You had plans?"
"Oh, yes, very definitely."
"And made a contract."
"That's right-I take it you're representing her, Mr. Mason?"
"I'm representing her."
"I'm sorry she felt that it was necessary to go to an attorney. That is the last thing I would have wanted."
"I can imagine," Mason said.
"I didn't mean it that way," Boring interposed hastily.
"I did," Mason said.
"There is nothing to be gained by consulting an attorney," Boring said, "and there is, of course, the extra time, trouble and expense involved."
"My time, your trouble, your expense," Mason said.
Boring's smile seemed to reflect genuine amusement. "I'm afraid, Mr. Mason, there are some things about the facts of life in Hollywood you need to understand."
"Go ahead," Mason said.
"In Hollywood," Boring said, "things are done on front, on flash, on a basis of public relations.
"When a writer or an actor gets to the end of his contract and his option isn't taken up, he immediately starts spending money. He buys a new automobile, purchases a yacht, is seen in all the expensive night spots, and lets it be known that he is at liberty but is thinking of taking a cruise to the South Seas on his yacht before he considers any new contract.
"The guy probably has just enough to make a down payment on the yacht and uses his old automobile as a down payment on the new car. He has a credit card which is good for the checks at the night spots and he's sweating in desperation, but he shows up regularly with good-looking cuties and buys expensive meals. He radiates an atmosphere of prosperity.
"During that time his public relations man is busily engaged in trying to plant stories about him and his agent is letting it be known that while his client has his heart set on a nine to twelve months vacation on his yacht in the South Seas, he might be persuaded to postpone the vacation long enough to take on one more job if the pay should be right.
"That's Hollywood, Mr. Mason."
"That's Hollywood," Mason said. "So what?"
"Simply, Mr. Mason, that I live in Hollywood. I work with Hollywood. I had some elaborate plans. I backed those plans up with what cash I had available and I was able to interest a backer.
"Late Friday night my backer got cold feet on the entire proposition. I hope I can get him reinterested, but I can't do it by seeming to be desperate. I have to put up a good front, I have to let it appear that the loss of his backing was merely a minor matter because I have so many other irons in the fire that I can't be bothered over just one more scheme which could have earned a few millions."
"And so?" Mason asked.
"And so," Boring said, "Dianne would have shared in my prosperity. Now she has to share in my hard luck. If the girl is willing to keep right on going, if she's willing to develop her curves and try to glamorize herself in every way possible, I am hoping that the deal can be reinstated."
"How soon?"
"Within a matter of weeks-perhaps of days."
"You mean you hope the backer will change his mind?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any assurance that he will?"
"I think I can- Well, I'll be perfectly frank, Mr. Mason. I think I can guarantee that he'll come around."
"If you're so certain of it, then keep up your payments to Dianne Alder."
"I can't do it."
"Why?"
"I haven't the money."
Mason said, "We're not interested in your hard luck. You made a definite contract. For your information, upon a breach of that contract my client could elect to take any one of certain remedies.
"She has elected to consider your repudiation of the contract as a breach of the contractual relationship and a termination of all future liability on her part under the contract. She will hold you for whatever damages she has sustained."
"Well, I sympathize with her," Boring said. "If I were in a position to do so, I'd write her a check for her damages right now, Mr. Mason. I don't try to disclaim my responsibility in the least. I am simply pointing out to you that I am a promoter, I am an idea man. I had this idea and I had it sold. Something happened to unsell my backer. I think I can get him sold again. If I can't, I can get another backer. But every dollar that I have goes into keeping up the type of background that goes with the line of work I'm in. My entire stock-in-trade is kept in my showcases. I don't have any shelves. I don't have any reserve supplies."
"And you're trying to tell me you don't have any money?" Mason asked.
"Exactly."
Mason regarded the man thoughtfully. "You're a salesman."
"That's right."
"A promoter."
"That's right."
"You sell ideas on the strength of your personality."
"Right."
"So," Mason said, "instead of talking with me over the telephone, instead of referring me to your attorney, you came here personally to put on your most convincing manner and persuade me that you had no cash and therefore it would be useless for my client to start suit."
"Correct again, Mr. Mason."
"Do you have an attorney?"
"No."
"You'd better get one."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to Dianne Alder."
"You can't get blood out of a turnip, Mr. Mason."
"No," Mason said, "but you can get sugar out of a beet-if you know how-and in the process you raise hell with the beet."
Boring regarded him speculatively.
"Therefore," Mason said, "I would suggest that you get an attorney and I'll discuss the situation with him rather than with you."
"I don't have an attorney, I don't have any money to hire an attorney, and I'm not going to get one. With all due respect to you, Mr. Mason, you're not going to get a thin dime out of me; at least, as long as you act this way."
"Was there some other way you had in mind?" Mason asked.
"Frankly, there was."
"Let's hear it."
"My idea is just as good as it ever was. Sooner or later I'm going to get another backer. When I do, Dianne will be sitting on Easy Street. I tell you, Mr. Mason, the idea is sound. People are tired of starving their personalities along with their bodies.
"You let some well-nourished, firm-fleshed, clear-eyed model come along that has lots of figure, and we'll start a style change overnight."
"I'm not an expert on women's styles," Mason said. "I try to be an expert on law. I'm protecting my client's legal interests."
"Go ahead and protect them."
"All right," Mason said. "My client has a claim of damages against you for whatever that may be worth. We won't argue about that now. My client also has the right to consider your repudiation of the contract as a termination of all future liability on her part."
"I am not a lawyer, Mr. Mason, but that would seem to be fair."
"Therefore," Mason said, "regardless of what else may be done, you have no further claims on Dianne Alder or on her earnings."
"I'd like to see the situation left in status quo," Boring said.
"Status quo calls for the payment of a hundred dollars a week."
"I can't do it."
"Then there isn't any status quo."
Boring held out his hand to Mason with a gesture of complete friendship. "Thank you, Mr. Mason, for giving me your time. I'm glad we had this talk. Dianne is a nice girl. You do whatever you can to protect her interests, but I just wanted to let you know that trying to collect from me would simply be throwing good money after bad."
Boring kept talking while he was shaking hands. "If I ever get any money of my own, Mason, you won't need to sue me for it because I'd back this idea of mine with every cent I had. It's a red-hot idea and I know it's going to pay off. I realize that the situation is a little discouraging at the moment as far as Dianne is concerned, but I know that sooner or later my idea is going across. I feel in my bones that within a few short months Dianne will be the toast of the town."
"Let's be very careful," Mason said, moving Boring toward the exit door, "that the toast doesn't get burnt."
"I can assure you, Mr. Mason, with every ounce of sincerity I possess, that I have her best interests at heart."
"That's fine," Mason said, "and you can be assured that I have them at heart."
Mason held the exit door open for Boring, who smiled affably then turned and walked down the corridor.
Mason turned to Della Street as the door closed. "You got Paul Drake?" he asked.
"That's right. He'll be under surveillance from the time he leaves the building. One of Drake's operatives will probably be in the elevator with him as he goes down."
Mason grinned.
"Quite a promoter," Della Street said.
Mason nodded. "That damned contract," he said.
"What about it?"
"I wish I knew what Boring was after. I wish I knew the reason he drew up that contract in the first place."
"You don't believe his story about a new type of model and-"
Mason interrupted to say, "Della, I don't believe one single damn thing about that guy. As far as I'm concerned, even his mustache could be false- Get me that contract, will you, Della? I want to study it once more."
Della Street brought him the file jacket. Mason took out the contract and read it carefully.
"Any clues?" Della Street asked.
Mason shook his head. "I can't figure it out. It's…"
Suddenly he stopped talking.
"Yes?" Della Street prompted.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Mason said.
"What?" Della Street asked.
"The red herring is what fooled me," Mason said.
"And what's the red herring?"
"The avoirdupois, the diet, the twelve pounds in ten weeks, the curves."
"That wasn't the real object of the contract?" Della Street asked.
"Hell, no," Mason said. "That was the window dressing. That was the red herring."
"All right, go ahead," she said. "I'm still in the dark."
"Take that out of the contract," Mason said, "and what do you have left? We've seen these contracts before, Della."
"I don't get it."
"The missing-heir racket," Mason said.
Della Street 's eyes widened.
Mason said, "Somebody dies and leaves a substantial estate, but no relatives. No one takes any great interest in the estate at the moment except the public administrator.
"Then these sharpshooters swoop down on the situation. They start feverishly running down all the information they can get on the decendent. They find that some relatives are living in distant parts, relatives who have entirely lost track of the family connection.
"So these sharpshooters contact the individual potential heirs and say, "Look here. If we can uncover some property for you which you didn't know anything at all about, will you give us half of it? We'll pay all the expenses, furnish all the attorneys" fees out of our share. All you have to do is to accept your half free and clear of all expenses of collection."
"But who's the relative in this case?" Della Street asked. "Dianne's family is pretty well accounted for. Her father died, and all of the estate, such as it was, was distributed to her mother, and then her mother died, leaving everything to Dianne."
"There could be property inherited from the more remote relatives," Mason pointed out. "That's where these sharpies make their money."
"Then why would he quit making the payments to her and forfeit all right to her share of the money?"
"Either because he found out she wasn't entitled to it," Mason said, "or because he's found another angle he can play to greater advantage."
"And if he has?" Della Street asked.
"Then," Mason said, "it's up to us to find out what he's doing, block his play and get the inheritance for Dianne, all without paying him one thin dime."
"Won't that be quite a job?" Della Street asked.
"It'll be a terrific job," Mason said. "We're going to have to get hold of Dianne and start asking her about her family on her father's side and her mother's side, her cousins, aunts, second cousins, uncles and all the rest of it. Then we've got to start running down each person to find out where they're located, when they died, how they died, where they died, what estate was probated and all the rest of it.
"There is, however, one method of short-cutting the job."
"What's that?"
"By shadowing Boring, checking back on where he's been, what he's been doing, and, if possible, with whom he's corresponding-and that's a job for Paul so we'll let Paul wrestle with it until he gets a lead.
"Come on, Della, let's close up the office and forget about business for a change. We may as well call it a day."
Della Street nodded.
Mason opened the exit door, started to go out, suddenly paused and said, "Della, there's someone rattling the knob of the door of the reception office-would you mind slipping out and telling him that we're closing up and see if we can make an appointment with this man for tomorrow."
A few moments later she was back in the office. "You may want to see this man, Chief," she said.
"Who is it?"
"His name is Montrose Foster and he wants to talk to you about Harrison T. Boring."
"Well, well!" Mason said, grinning. "Under the circumstances, Della, I guess we'll postpone closing the office until we've talked with Mr. Montrose Foster, following which we could, if so desired, dine uptown and perhaps invite Paul Drake to go to dinner with us.
"Bring him in."
Within a few seconds, Della Street was back with a wiry, thin-faced individual whose close-set, black, beady eyes were restlessly active. He had high cheekbones, a very prominent pointed nose, quick, nervous mannerisms and rapid enunciation.
"How do you do, Mr. Mason, how do you do?" he said, "I recognize you from your photographs. i've always wanted to meet you.
"Tops in the field, that's what you are, sir, tops in the field. It's a pleasure to meet the champion."
"What can I do for you?" Mason asked, sizing the man up with good-natured appraisal.
"Perhaps we can do something for each other, Mr. Mason. I'll put it that way."
"Well, sit down," Mason said. "It's after hours and we were just closing up. However, if you'll be brief, we can make a preliminary exploration of the situation."
"My interest is in Harrison T. Boring," Foster said, "and I have an idea that you're interested in him."
"And if so?" Mason asked.
"I think we could pool our information, Mr. Mason. I think I could be of some assistance to you and you might be of some assistance to me."
"Where do we begin?" Mason asked.
"I happen to know-and never mind how I happen to know it-that you left word for Harrison Boring to get in touch with you. I happen to know that Mr. Boring picked up that message and in place of calling you on the telephone as apparently you wished him to do, came here in person. I happen to know that he left here only a short time ago. And, if you'll forgive me, that was the reason I was so persistently trying to attract attention by knocking at the door of your reception room. I felt certain you were still here."
"I see," Mason said.
"Now then," Foster went on, "if you'll let me have the name of your client, Mr. Mason, I think I can perhaps be of help to you."
"And why do you wish the name of my client?"
"I'm simply checking, Mr. Mason, to make certain that I'm on the right track."
Mason's eyes narrowed slightly. "I fail to see what good it would do to divulge the name of my client. If, of course, you wish to tell me anything about Boring, I'm ready to listen."
"Boring," Foster said, "is an opportunist, a very shrewd character, very shrewd."
"Unscrupulous?" Mason asked.
"I didn't say that," Foster said.
"May I ask how you know so much about him?"
"The man worked for me for a period of two years."
"In what capacity?" Mason asked.
"He was a-well, you might say an investigator."
"And what is your line of work?" Mason asked.
Foster became elaborately casual. "I have several activities, Mr. Mason. I am a man of somewhat diverse interests."
"The principal one of which," Mason said, making a shot in the dark, "is locating missing heirs. Is that right?"
Foster was visibly shaken. "Oh," he said, somewhat crestfallen, "you know about that, do you?"
"Let's put it this way, I surmised it."
"And why did you surmise that, may I ask?"
"The fact that you were so interested in the name of my client, Mr. Foster."
Foster said somewhat sheepishly, "I may have been a little abrupt but, after all, I was trying to help you, Mr. Mason. That was what I primarily had in mind."
"And at the same time, helping yourself to a piece of cake," Mason said. "Let's see if I can reconstruct the situation. You're running an agency for the location of lost heirs. Boring was working for you. All of a sudden he resigned his position and started quietly investigating something on his own.
"You felt certain that this was some information he had uncovered in the course of his employment and something on which he was going to capitalize to his own advantage. You have been making every effort to find out what the estate is, and who the missing heir is, and hope you can get the information before Boring signs anyone up on a contract."
Montrose Foster seemed to grow smaller by the second as Mason was talking.
"Well," he said at length, "I guess you've either found out all there is to know or else you got Boring in such a position you were able to turn him inside out."
"What was the matter on which Boring was working when he quit you?" Mason said. "Perhaps that would be a clue."
"That's a clue and a very nice one," Foster said, "and it's a very nice question, Mr. Mason, but I'm afraid we've reached a point where we're going to have to trade. You give me the name of the client and I'll give you the name of the estate on which Boring was working.
Mason thought things over for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
"It might save you a lot of time," Foster said pleadingly.
"That's all right," Mason told him. "I'll spend the time."
"It will cost a lot of money."
"I have the money."
"You give me the name of your client," Foster said, "and if that client hasn't already signed up with Boring, I'll run down the matter for twenty-five per cent. Surely, Mr. Mason, you can't expect anything better than that. Our usual fee is fifty per cent and that's in cases which don't involve a great deal of work."
"Well," Mason said, "I'll take your offer under advisement."
"There isn't time, Mr. Mason. This is a matter of considerable urgency."
Mason said, "I don't do any horse-trading until I've seen the horse I'm trading for."
"I've put my cards on the table."
"No, you haven't. You haven't told me anything about yourself except to confess that the information you've been able to uncover has not been anything on which you could capitalize."
"All right, all right," Foster said. "You're too smart for me, Mr. Mason. You keep reading my mind, so to speak. I will put the cards on the table. If I could find the name of the heir, I'd start running it down from the other end and then I'd find it. As it is, you're quite correct in assuming that I haven't been able to get any satisfaction from checking over the estates which Boring was investigating."
"And you've talked with Boring?" Mason asked. "Offered to pool your information? Offered him a larger commission than you customarily granted?"
"Yes. He laughed at me."
"And then what happened?"
"Then I'm afraid I lost my temper. I told him what I thought of him in no uncertain terms."
"And what were the no uncertain terms?"
"The man is a liar, a cheat, a sneak, a double-crosser, a back-stabber and entirely unscrupulous. He puts up a good front but he's nothing more than a con man. He worked for me, let me carry him during all the lean times, then just as soon as he stumbled onto something juicy he manipulated things so he could put the whole deal in his pocket and walk off with it."
Mason flashed Della Street a quick glance. "I take it you didn't have him tied up under contract. Therefore, there wasn't any reason why he couldn't quit his employment and go to work on his own, so I can't see why you're so bitter."
"This wasn't something he did on his own, Mason. Don't you understand? This was something he uncovered while he was working for me. I was paying him a salary and a commission and he stumbled onto this thing and then, instead of being loyal to his employer and his employment, he sent me a letter of resignation and started developing it himself."
"If you don't know what it was," Mason asked, "how do you know it was something he uncovered as a part of his employment?"
"Now look," Foster said, "you're pumping me for a lot of information. I know what you're doing, but I have no choice except to ride along in the hope that you will see the advantages of co-operating with me."
"I'm afraid," Mason said, "I don't see those advantages clearly, at least at the present."
"Well, think them over," Foster said. "You let me know the name of your client and I'll start chasing down the thing from that angle. I have facilities for that sort of investigative work. That's my specialty."
"And then you'll want half of what my client gets?" Mason asked.
"I told you i'll make a deal with you, Mason. I'll take twenty-five per cent and I'll do all the work. You can take twenty-five per cent as your fee and then your client will get the other half. Is that fair?"
"No."
"What's unfair about it?"
"If I don't do any of the work," Mason said, "I shouldn't charge my client twenty-five per cent of the inheritance."
"Well, you've got to live," Foster said.
"With myself," Mason pointed out, smiling.
"Oh, all right, all right. Think it over," Foster said. "You're going to be doing business with me sooner or later anyway."
"How so?"
"Because I'm going to find out what Boring is working on if it takes my last cent. I'm going to see to it that he doesn't profit by his double-crossing."
"That's a very natural attitude for you to take," Mason said, "if you want to spend the effort and money."
"I've got the time, I've got the money, I'll make the effort," Foster said. "Think my proposition over, Mr. Mason. Here's one of my cards. I'm located in Riverside. You can reach me on the phone at any time, day or night. Call the office during the daytime, and the night number is my residence."
"Thanks a lot," Mason said. "I'll think it over."
As Della Street held the corridor door open for Montrose Foster, he twisted his head with a quick, terrierlike motion, wreathed his face into a smile and hurried out into the corridor.
The door slowly closed behind him and Della Street turned to Mason.
"The plot thickens," she said.
"The plot," Mason said, frowning thoughtfully, "develops lumps similar to what my friend, on a camping trip, called Thousand Island gravy."
"Well?" she asked.
"Let's start taking stock of the situation," he said. "Foster was the brains behind a lost heirs organization. He dug out the cases and carried the financial burden. Boring, with his impressive manner and his dignified approach, was the contact man.
"Now then, if any unusual case had been uncovered, if any information had been turned up, one would think Foster would have been the man to do it, not Boring."
"I see your point," Della Street said.
"Yet Boring is the one who turns up the case and despite the fact that Foster had been directing his activities, Foster doesn't have a single lead as to what the case is. So now Foster is desperately trying to find out who the heir is and start backtracking from that angle."
"Well," Della Street said, "it's a tribute to your thinking that you figured it out this far, largely from studying the contract."
"I'm not handing myself any bouquets," Mason said. "I should have figured it out sooner… Now then, Foster is evidently having Boring shadowed."
"Otherwise he wouldn't have known he came here?"
Mason nodded.
"And we're having Boring shadowed," Della Street said.
"Shadows on shadows," Mason told her. "Come on, Della, we're going to have dinner on the office expense account and think things over. Then I'll drive you home."
"Cocktails?" Della Street asked, with a smile.
"The works," Mason said. "Somehow I feel like celebrating. I love to get into a situation where everyone is trying to double-cross everyone else."
"What about Dianne? Do we talk with her and tell her what we have discovered?"
"Not yet," Mason said. "We do a little thinking first; in tact, we do a lot of thinking."