The Case of the Phantom Fortune (eBook)

CHAPTER ONE

Della Street, Perry Mason’s confidential secretary said, “Mr Horace Warren, an executive type who seems accustomed to getting what he wants, is anxiously and impatiently waiting in the outer office.”

“And what,” Perry Mason asked, “does Horace Warren wish to consult me about?”

“That,” Della said, “is a mystery.”

“Well?” Mason asked. “What’s the mystery?”

“All he’ll tell me is that he’s willing to pay five hundred dollars to have you attend a buffet dinner tonight.”

Mason said, “Tell him I’m not a paid entertainer, that I have a busy schedule today, and that I see clients only by appointment.”

“I don’t think that he wants you as a social lion,” Della said. “He said he would like to have you get a feminine partner of your own choosing, and that he would like to have you observe a certain person and give him your impression of that person.”

Mason regarded Della Street thoughtfully. “Were you by any chance thinking of a buffet dinner?”

She nodded. “With champagne,” she said.

Mason grinned. “Show Mr Horace Warren in, Della.”

Della Street flashed him a grateful smile, returned to the outer office and a moment later was back with a man somewhere in his late forties; a man with steady grey eyes that flashed out from under bushy eyebrows.

“Mr Mason,” he said, “I’m Horace Warren. I’m a businessman.”

Mason smiled slightly. “A student of character would so classify you.”

“And you are a student of character?”

“Any trial lawyer likes to think that he is. If he’s at all successful he has to be. Won’t you be seated?”

Warren sat down across the desk from Mason, regarded him thoughtfully, then leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. His heavy shoulders and neck gave him an air of belligerency.

“That,” he said, “is one of the reasons I came to you.”

“What is?”

“That you’re a judge of character. I want you to do some judging.”

Mason said, “I take it that what you want is a little unusual?”

“Do you,” Warren asked abruptly, veering away from the subject under discussion, “have some good detective agency that does your work?”

“Yes,” Mason said, “the Drake Detective Agency, with offices on the same floor of this building. Paul Drake has done my work for years. He is highly competent and completely ethical.”

“Does he know fingerprints?” Warren asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Can he classify fingerprints and match them, things of that sort?”

“He has had some experience in courtroom cases,” Mason said warily. “He’s never qualified as a specialist in fingerprinting, but he is an expert and in touch with highly competent experts.”

Warren hesitated a moment, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of white cardboard. Attached to this cardboard was a strip of transparent tape, and underneath the transparent tape were the black whorls of a fingerprint.

“I want you to hire Paul Drake and have him get busy right away,” Warren said. “I want a report by five o’clock this afternoon. It is imperative that I have it by that time.”

“Why don’t you step down the hall and talk with Mr Drake yourself?” Mason asked.

“Because I don’t want Paul Drake to know who your client is. I want Paul Drake to follow your instructions and yours alone.”

“Perhaps,” Mason said, “you’d better tell me a little more.”

“Tonight,” Warren said, “my wife and I are giving a buffet dinner for a small, intimate group. There will be not more than sixteen or eighteen people. I want you to attend that dinner and bring with you some feminine partner, and I want it to appear that your presence is very casual; in fact, if possible, unexpected.

“The manager of my enterprises, Judson Olney, will ostensibly be the one responsible for bringing you there. Olney will apparently have invited the woman who is with you to come and bring a male escort. You will be the escort she has selected.

“I don’t want anyone to suspect you are there in your professional capacity. You will be prepared for a black tie, champagne buffet dinner. You will arrive at seven for cocktails, dinner will be at eight, and you can leave at ten. That will take three hours. I am prepared to pay five hundred dollars for those three hours, in addition to whatever the charge may be for this consultation, and, of course, whatever your costs for the detective agency.”

Mason regarded the enigmatic grey eyes thoughtfully. “I don’t like to go at things blind,” he said.

“This is not the usual type of case,” Warren hastened to assure him.

“So it would seem,” Mason told him. “Now, what’s all this about a fingerprint and why do you want a detective agency?”

Warren tapped the cardboard on which appeared the lifted fingerprint. “I want your man to find out to whom that fingerprint belongs; that is, who made it.”

Mason shook his head.

“What do you mean, no?” Warren demanded.

“What you are asking is a practical impossibility,” Mason said. “While the FBI and the police have done wonderful work in matching single fingerprints in the cases of well-known and much-wanted outlaws, nevertheless single fingerprint identification is an exceedingly difficult and tedious job, far beyond the range of any detective agency.

“What is not generally realized is that complete classifications are made through ten fingerprints. Then those fingerprints are broken down into a code so that the searcher using that code is limited to a relatively few number of fingerprints from which to make a match.”

“If you had ten fingerprints you could tell who the person was?” Warren asked.

“There again, another factor enters into the picture,” Mason said. “If the fingerprints of the person in question are on file in the criminal side of the FBI, we could get some police officer to make an inquiry for us by wire and get a match. If, however, the fingerprints are not on file in the criminal department, it would probably be impossible because fingerprints which are filed for civilian identification are considered confidential.”

Warren nodded, his eyes half closed as though contemplating some matter entirely disassociated from what Mason was saying.

Then abruptly he got to his feet, took a billfold from his pocket, extracted a cheque and handed it to Mason.

“Here,” he said, “is a cheque for a thousand dollars. Five hundred dollars will cover your attendance at dinner tonight. I have given the address to your secretary. The other five hundred dollars will act as retainer.

“Now, in strictest confidence I am going to give you some additional data on that fingerprint.”

“It is always advisable to give an attorney all the facts,” Mason said dryly.

Warren said, “This fingerprint may have been made by one of the servants in my house, it may have been made by one of the guests who will be at the dinner tonight, or it may be that it was made by a total stranger. Would it be possible for your man, Drake, to go through the house and get the fingerprints of the servants without their knowing? I believe you refer to it as developing latent prints.”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t think that would be possible, and if you don’t want Drake to know the identity of my client it wouldn’t be at all feasible.

“Developing a latent print, Mr Warren, is a matter which calls for the use of various coloured powders which are dusted over the fingerprint. Then the developed fingerprint has to be photographed or, as was done in the case of the fingerprint here, lifted.”

“Lifted?” Warren asked. “How is that done?”

“The fingerprint is dusted. Then transparent adhesive tape is placed over the dusted latent fingerprint. The adhesive tape is smoothed carefully so that it covers the entire surface, then it is peeled back off and placed upon a card having an appropriate colour so that the fingerprint will show in contrast.

“For instance, on this card which you have handed me, the fingerprint was dusted with a graphite powder; therefore the print, after it was lifted, was placed upon a card with an off-white background, which makes it readily visible.

“Now, if Drake were to go to your house and start lifting fingerprints, he would have to dust various surfaces and it would be virtually impossible to remove evidence that he had dusted those surfaces, and complete his search within the allotted time.”

“Have you any suggestions?” Warren asked.

“I have one,” Mason said. “It might or might not prove effective. It would, however, necessitate Drake knowing the identity of my client and it would be expensive.”

“Money is no object,” Warren declared. “That is, I don’t want to be a pigeon, I don’t want to be charged more than the going rate, but when I want something, I want it.”

Mason nodded thoughtfully.

“What was your scheme?”

Mason said, “Have a caterer for this party. Ostensibly, Drake will be the head of the catering service. In that way the service will furnish its own china, its own crystal, its own silverware. Employees of the catering firm will park a truck in your driveway. That truck will be the headquarters of the catering service. Apparently dishes, glassware, silverware, etc., will be taken from your house to the truck to be washed. Actually there will be no washing facilities available but there will be an unlimited supply of glassware and silverware, which will be replaced from time to...