The Case of the Queenly Contestant

“No, this is a thin older man about sixty with high cheekbones. He’s wearing a dark-brown suit, black shoes, white shirt and brown tie. He seems to know his way around.”

“I think probably he is local,” Mason said. “What’s a job like that worth, Paul?”

“If he’s local, he’s probably getting forty to fifty dollars a day and expenses,” Drake said. “He was planted in a taxicab outside the building.”

“Well,” Mason said, “I’ve got a problem on my hands, Paul. I’m going to have to employ a decoy.”

“What kind of a decoy?”

“A woman, about thirty-eight years old, quite tall — a little taller than the average — about five feet eight and a half. Light-chestnut hair, if possible. I want her to weigh a hundred and thirty to a hundred and thirty-two pounds. I want her to be quick on the uptake, and she’ll need an apartment. She’ll go under the name of Ellen Smith. She’ll surround herself with an air of mystery, avoid contacts with anyone, and be in a position to follow instructions.

“I’d like to have her in an apartment if possible, but I don’t want her to get an apartment which was leased just a few hours earlier if I can avoid it. I...”

“That end of it is all right,” Drake said. “As part of the operation we keep a dummy, decoy apartment in the name of the switchboard operator, but the rent is handled in such a way that no one could ever trace the apartment to this office.

“It’s going to take me a little while to make all the arrangements you want, but I have a list of female operators and one of them fits your description to a T. I don’t think she’s working now, and I’ll try and get her.

“Now, Perry, there’s one thing you’ve got to watch out for. If anybody has gone to all this trouble to sew you up, you had better be careful with your telephone conversations. With electronic eavesdropping devices it’s not too difficult to bug an office or tap a telephone line.”

Mason said, “That’s why I’m telephoning you from the depot, Paul. I’ll telephone you again shortly. See if your operative is available, and if she is I want her to come to my office in about half an hour. Can do?”

“If she’s available, can do,” Drake said. “You call me back in ten minutes.”

“Right,” Mason said.

The lawyer hung up, left the telephone booth, walked halfway to the entrance of the depot, then suddenly snapped his fingers as though he had forgotten something, whirled on his heel, and started back toward the telephone booths.

He almost collided with a rather thin individual with high cheekbones, a lantern jaw, a brown suit and tie, black shoes, and white shirt. The man was about sixty years of age.

Mason hurried back to the telephone booth, again held his body in such a position that his shoulders shielded the dial of the telephone, and dialed the number Ellen Adair had given Della Street.

A voice at the other end of the line repeated the number Mason had dialed.

“Miss Adair, please,” Mason said.

“Just a moment, please,” the voice said.

A few moments later another voice said, “Miss Adair’s office.”

“Miss Adair, please,” Mason said.

“Who’s calling?”

“Mr. Mason.”

“Just a moment, please.”

A moment later Mason heard Ellen Adair’s voice.

“Listen carefully,” Mason said. “I want to know where I stand. What kind of a game are you playing? Are you mixed up in a criminal case — and, if so, what are the facts?”

“What are you talking about?” Ellen Adair demanded.

“I’m talking about the fact that somebody from Cloverville showed up in my office and said that he was representing The Cloverville Gazette, that the story of what had happened to you was arousing a tremendous amount of local interest, that the paper would be willing to pay a reasonable sum for your story.”

“Oh my God!” Ellen Adair exclaimed.

“Wait a minute: you haven’t heard it all yet,” Mason said. “I pegged this man as a private detective. I surmised that he would feel I might be getting in touch with you, that my phone might be tapped or my office bugged, so I took a cab to the depot. I’m calling you from the phone booth there. I was followed to the depot by another man, who may be a local private detective.

“Now all of this is costing somebody a lot of money. I think the one private detective really did come in from Cloverville. The other man who is on my tail seems to know the city pretty well and may well be a local man. Even so, someone has put a few hundred dollars on the line right up to date.

“Now then, if you’re that important and you’ve mixed me into the case, I want to know why you’re that important.”

“I can’t tell you,” she said; “not now.”

“I didn’t think you could,” Mason said, “but I want to know where I can meet you at seven-thirty tonight. I’ll be accompanied by Della Street, and we’ll have dinner and be where we can talk. We can get reasonable privacy at The Blue Ox. Do you ever eat there?”

“I’m familiar with it,” she said. “Can I meet you there at seven-thirty and be sure that the people who are following you wouldn’t — wouldn’t pick me up?”

Mason said, “I think so. I think I can arrange it.