Case of the Footloose Doll (6 page)

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to keep on being Fern Driscoll, because I don’t want to go back to being Mildred Crest. It would be good from your point of view, too. When it appears that there isn’t going to be any illegitimate child, the magazine won’t dare to go ahead with Harrod’s story. What about it?”

Kitty thought things over. “When you opened Fern’s purse, you found four thousand dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, was there anything else? Anything that would help us?” Mildred shook her head.

There was a silence during which Mildred was thinking furiously. She had no right to turn the letters in Fern’s purse over to Kitty. Yet what was she to do with them? She must keep herself in the clear. Technically, she knew she was obligated to turn all Fern’s property over to the coroner, or some public official, or someone.

“All right,” Kitty said suddenly. “If you want to keep on being Fern Driscoll, go right ahead, but I warn you there will be some difficult problems.”

Mildred said wearily, “There are problems either way . . . I’m afraid of Harrod.”

“He’s a slimy blackmailer.”

“I’m afraid of him just the same.”

Kitty Baylor said abruptly, “I want you to promise me one thing, Mildred. If you should hear from any of the other members of the family, don’t mention the fact that I’ve been here. I’m not supposed to know anything about this, but if either my father or my brother gave Fern Driscoll money and told her to go away and have her baby—well, I want to know about it, that’s all! I . . . I’ve had differences of opinion with them before, but this is very, very serious!”

Mildred remained thoughtful. “I wish you hadn’t slapped Harrod.”

“That trash.” Kitty said. “I’m going to show you how to deal with him.”

“How?”

“You wait right here,” Kitty said. “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.

I’ll show you how you can handle him.”

She slipped on her coat, started for the door.

“How did you find me, anyway?” Mildred asked.

With her hand on the knob. Kitty suddenly paused. “Now, that’s something I should tell you about,” she said. “Fern Driscoll wrote a letter to one of the girls in the accounting department, a girl whom she knew quite well. She said that the bottom had dropped out of things as far as she was concerned, and that she was leaving, she didn’t want anyone to know where she was, that she was going to hitchhike to Los Angeles, to get a job and begin all over again.

“That girl knew that Fern was in love with Forrie, that there had been some trouble. She thought it was just a lovers’ spat and that Forrie might want to know where Fern was. In case he did, she wanted Forrie to be able to find her without too much trouble.

“So, this girl sent Fern’s letter on to me, telling me not to say where I got the information but, in case Forrie confided in me, I could use my discretion and tell him where Fern was, if I thought that was the thing to do. “Later on, Margaret—that’s my younger sister—wrote me that the family was facing a possible scandal on account of Forrie’s affair with Fern Driscoll, that Dad was terribly worried, and that a man named Harrod was trying to blackmail him.

“So I hired a detective agency and told them that Fern Driscoll was a secretary, a very competent secretary, that she had recently arrived in Los Angeles, and asked them to find her.

“I guess it was an easy job. They charged me thirty—five dollars, and gave me this address. I suppose you signed Fern’s name to a utility applic-ation or something, didn’t you?”

“To the telephone,” Mildred said.

Kitty laughed. “Well, I guess it was that simple. I could probably simply have called information and got your number.”

“Where are your father and your brother now?” Mildred asked.

“In Lansing, as far as I know . . . You wait here, Mildred. I’m going out and get an ice pick for you.”

“An ice pick!” Mildred exclaimed.

Kitty nodded. “It’s a woman’s best friend, the best weapon she can have. A sorority sister of mine tipped me off. Some police officer was the one who gave her the information.

“The hatpin used to be woman’s traditional weapon, and believe me, it was a good one. A man instinctively recoils from something long and needle—pointed. This sorority sister of mine was in a community where they were having trouble with an exhibitionist. The police officer suggested that women who had to be out on the streets at night carry ice picks. You can put a cork over the point and slip it in a purse. Believe me, if you’re ever out alone on a dark street, an ice pick can be worth its weight in gold!”

“You can’t get an ice pick this time of night, and even if you could, I wouldn’t want it,” Mildred said.

“Oh, but I can! There’s an arcade novelty store down a couple of blocks that’s open and—You just try an ice pick on your friend Harrod and I can assure you, you won’t have any more trouble with him.” 

Chapter 5

WITH KATHERINE BAYLOR gone, Mildred found herself in a panic. She feared Carl Harrod. She also realized now that Harrod must have discovered her impersonation and was playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse.

Why? He wanted something, and the fact that Mildred wasn’t quite sure what it was he wanted was disquieting.

When the door chimes sounded again, Mildred’s fear started her heart pounding. She went to stand by the door.

“Who is it?” she called in a thin, frightened voice.

“Kitty!” came from the other side of the door. “Open up . . . Fern!” Mildred opened the door. Kitty Baylor said, “I bring you weapons, my dear, the complete armory! Here you are! Three serviceable ice picks!”

“Three!” Mildred echoed.

“Three!” Kitty said, and laughed. “That’s my bargain-hunting mind, I guess. They were priced at thirty-eight cents apiece, three for a dollar. I’m going to put one of them in my purse and carry it with me just in case.

“Harrod isn’t going to lay a hand on me, not without getting an ice pick where he doesn’t want it.

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Mildred. You don’t have to use the things! It’s simply the idea. A man can’t stand having something like that jabbed at him.

“Now look, Mildred. I’m going to run on. I’m not going to say a thing to anybody about what you have told me. I want to find out for myself certain things. I want to find out if either Dad or Forrie did give Fern Driscoll four thousand dollars and tell her to get lost.

“Something happened, and I want to know what it was. I tighten up every time I start thinking of what happened to poor Fern. Even if she did kill herself, it was the result of hysteria and temporary insanity. All that was caused by what she’d had to go through.

“Don’t tell anybody that I’ve been here, and I won’t tell anybody. If anything happens, and you need me, I’ll be at the Vista del Camino tonight. When Dad’s in town, he has the presidential suite, but I’ll be in a modest two-room suite. I haven’t checked in yet, just stopped by to leave luggage. They all know me at the hotel. You won’t have any trouble reaching me. Now, are you going to be all right?”

“I guess so.”

“I’m going to leave these two ice picks on this little table right here by the door. If Harrod should come back, don’t be afraid of him. All blackmailers are cowards.

“All right, I’m on my way. Thanks for putting your cards on the table, and here’s luck!”

Kitty Baylor thrust out her hand and gripped Mildred’s with firm, strong fingers.

“You think I shouldn’t have run away, don’t you?” Mildred asked.

“I don’t know,” Kitty said after a moment’s hesitation. “However, there’s no use worrying about it. It’s done now. And if you want to be Fern Driscoll, go ahead. But remember this: Dad may be looking for you, and Forrie may be looking for you. I certainly hope Forrie does come to try and help you and . . . and to stand by the girl he—Good-by, Mildred.” When Kitty had gone, Mildred felt a little guilty because she had not told Kitty about the letters. She had confided in Kitty as to her own secrets, but instinct had been to leave what little veil of privacy remained about the affairs of Fern Driscoll. More and more, Mildred was coming to sympathize with the girl who had wrenched the steering wheel from her hands and sent the automobile plunging down to destruction.

Kitty hadn’t been gone more than five minutes when the telephone rang.

Feeling certain she would hear Carl Harrod’s voice, Mildred picked up the receiver.

The voice which came over the telephone was richly resonant with authority.

“Miss Driscoll?”

Mildred hesitated a moment. “Yes?”

“I’m Harriman Baylor, Fern. Now, what the devil’s this story about the family having given you money to go ahead and disappear for a while.I—”

“You should know,” Mildred Crest said, suddenly filled with a desire to avenge Fern Driscoll’s memory.

“Well, I don’t know!” Baylor said impatiently. “And if my son has been putting his neck in that kind of noose, I want to find out about it. Now tell me, do you know a man by the name of Carl Harrod?” 

She hesitated a moment then said, “He was here earlier this evening.”

“I understand that Harrod is going to sell a story about this whole affair to some scandal magazine,” Baylor went on, “and he says that you have some letters Forrester wrote you that are definitely incriminating, that you’ve made arrangements to turn those letters over to him. Is that true?”

“No.”

“Do you have such letters?”

There was something in the authoritative timbre of the voice that had Mildred on the defensive.

“I have the letters,” she said. “I haven’t told anyone about them, nor have I turned them over to anybody.”

“All right,” Baylor said, “I want to talk with you. It’s been a job finding you. I don’t know what you’re trying to—Well, anyway, I want to come and talk with you. I’ll be seeing you.”

The phone clicked. He hadn’t asked for permission to call. He had merely said he was coming. Mildred sensed the man did everything like that. He was accustomed to taking the right of way.

Mildred suddenly realized that she had unleashed forces that she couldn’t control.

Did Harriman Baylor know Fern Driscoll by sight? Would he know as soon as he saw her that she was an impostor? Knowing that she was an impostor, what would he do? Would he expose her?

Did Kitty really not know that her father was in town?

And what to do with those letters? Kitty Baylor was right. Harrod was going to get her to make a statement of the accident and the removal of money from the purse. She would sign this statement as Fern Driscoll.

Once she had done that she would be pretty much within his power. And Harrod was really after those letters that had been in Fern Driscoll’s purse.

Mildred had no intention of giving Harrod those letters. Neither, on the other hand, did she intend to turn them over to Harriman Baylor, the father of the man who indirectly had been responsible for Fern Driscoll’s death.

Suddenly Mildred Crest knew that she didn’t want to face Harriman Baylor. She knew too much, and yet about some things she knew too little. Mildred picked up the purse, dropped the little packet of letters in it, hastily switched out the lights in the apartment and hurried to the elevator.Finding the elevator was in use on the way up, she didn’t wait but turned to the stairs and went down to the street.

Chapter 6

PERRY MASON and Della Street were finishing dinner when the waiter said deferentially, “Excuse me, Mr. Mason, but the Drake Detective Agency asked you to call before you went out.” 

Mason nodded. “Anything important?”

“They didn’t say, sir, just asked you to be sure and call before you left the restaurant.”

Mason signed the check, nodded to Della Street, said, “Better give them a ring, Della. Find out what it is.”

Della Street arose from the table and went over to the telephone booths.

Mason settled back in his chair, lit a cigarette, and surveyed the various people in the place with keen, observant eyes.

Della returned. “What is it?” Mason asked.

“Well,” she said, “we have two matters which would seem to require your attention.”

“What are they?”

She said, “Fern Driscoll wants you to get in touch with her immediately. She says it’s terribly important you see her. She seemed to be very upset, Drake’s operator said. And you remember the blackmailer she told about, Carl Harrod?” Mason nodded. “He called up and asked you to get in touch with him about a matter of considerable importance to one of your clients. He left a number and an address, the Dixiecrat Apartments.”

“He called the Drake Detective Agency?” Mason asked.

“That’s right.”

“Then he must have got that number from Fern Driscoll.” Della Street nodded.

“Well,” Mason said, “let’s make a couple of calls and see what it’s all about. You have the numbers, Della?” She nodded.

“First, we’ll get Fern Driscoll at the Rexmore Apartments,” Mason said.He left the table, moved over to the telephone booths with Della Street.

Della’s nimble fingers dialed the number. A moment later she said into the telephone, “Hello, Miss Driscoll. This is Della Street, Perry Mason’s secretary. Mr. Mason will talk with you . . . He’s right here. Miss Driscoll.”

Mason entered the telephone booth, said, “Hello, Miss Driscoll. What seems to be the trouble?"

Her voice came pouring over the wire. “Mr. Mason, a whole lot of things have happened. There were some things I didn’t tell you about. I guess I held out a bit and—Well, there have been a lot of complications.”

“Won’t they keep until morning?” Mason asked.

“No. No. I—You see, there was someone, some intruder in my apartment, trying to get some things. He knocked me off my feet and I lashed out at him with an ice pick.”

“Good work,” Mason said. “Did you score?”

“I must have. The ice pick was jerked out of my hands and . . . and I can’t find it.”

“Did you report all this to the police?” Mason asked sharply.

“No, and there are reasons I don’t want to. I—You understand, I can’t . . . ”

Mason said, “Look, Fern, for a young woman who has a desire to remain obscure, you certainly do the damnedest things. Now, lock your door and try to keep out of trouble until I get there. You’d better tell me about this personally.”