"I need a smart lawyer to do it the way I want to do it."
"Aren't you two doing a pretty good business out there?"
"A land-office business."
"The minute you dissolve the partnership," Mason said, "you'll knock that business into a cocked hat."
"No, we won't," Duncan said. "Let me tell you something, I'm pretty smart, myself. Grieb had some money and a fine opinion of himself. He wanted to open a gambling ship, but good hulls that can be made into gambling ships aren't so easy to find. I happened to know a man who had one. The man didn't know Grieb. He knew me. He gave us a lease, and in that lease there's a clause that any time the partnership of Grieb and Duncan is dissolved, the lease is automatically terminated."
"So what?" Mason asked, his eyes staring steadily in level-lidded scrutiny.
"So," Duncan said, "I'm going to terminate the partnership. That'll terminate the lease. We'll wind up the partnership business. It isn't worth a damn without a place to carry on. The furniture and fixtures won't bring ten cents on the dollar at a forced sale. I'll see there's a forced sale, and I'll bid the stuff in through a dummy. Ten minutes after I have title to it, the owner of the ship will execute a new lease with me. That'll show Mr. Sam Grieb just how smart he is.
"He struts around that place ten inches taller than God, telling me what I can do and what I can't do, trying to give me orders, bossing me around, countermanding my instructions, bullying the employees, and being a general pain in the neck.
"Now then, you can go ahead and represent me in this thing. Part of the partnership assets are those IOU's. I'll get all the partnership assets. I'll turn the IOU's over to you as your fee. I don't care what you do with them afterwards. You can collect as big a bonus as you want. I didn't know the grandmother was interested in 'em, but if she is, you've got her on the one hand and Frank Oxman on the other. You can run the price up and sell out to the best bidder."
"That's not my way of doing business," Mason said.
"Well, you know your way of doing business," Duncan told him, "and I know mine. You know what I want. You know what you'll get. Now then, do we shoot or not?"
"We don't," Mason said unhesitatingly.
"Why not?"
"Because I don't like the way you're going about it, Duncan. I don't want to represent you. I'm representing interests adverse to you. I'm fighting you."
Duncan said affably, "Better think it over, Mason. I'm giving you an out. It's the only out you have. You've tipped your hand on those IOU's. If you don't play ball with me I'll play it both ends against the middle, the grandmother on one side and Frank Oxman on the other, and Sylvia in between. The one who pays the most money gets the IOU's. Oxman'll want 'em for evidence, and the grandmother will want to keep 'em from coming into court. We don't care which side comes out on top. What we're after is money."
Mason shook his head.
Duncan got to his feet. "And to think I thought you were smart!" he said. "That shows what a sucker I was… How do I get out of here?"
"Through that door into the corridor."
Duncan strode across the office, jerked the door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Mason picked up the receiver on his desk telephone and said, "Ring the law library. Tell Della to bring Mrs. Benson back in here, and get Paul Drake on the line for me right away." He dropped the receiver back into place and stared moodily at the blotter on his desk. Just as the door from the law library opened, the telephone rang and Mason, again picking up the receiver, heard Paul Drake's voice say, "Okay, Perry. What is it?"
"Duncan was just in my office," Mason told him.
"You aren't telling me anything, Perry. I've had two men on him ever since he came ashore from the gambling ship."
"I want to know just where he goes and just what he does," Mason said. "No matter what happens, don't lose sight of him. If necessary, put more men on the job."
"Okay, Perry," Drake replied. "Don't worry. He'll never lose the two shadows who are tailing him now."
"Just wanted to make sure," Mason said, "because he's going to be important. I'll tell you about it later." He dropped the receiver into position, smiled up at Matilda Benson and said, "Well, we're getting the breaks."
"What are they?" she asked.
"Duncan," Mason said, "has been playing Sam Grieb for a sucker. Now he's ready to spring the trap. He's got Grieb's money in the business and is now going to throw the whole thing into a receivership so he can take advantage of a joker in the lease."
Matilda Benson relaxed comfortably in the big overstuffed leather chair and said, "I thought Duncan was just a yes-man."
"Well, you're going to have one more think coming. He's smart."
"Can he make it stick?" she asked.
"Yes," Mason said slowly, "I think he can. I think he's got Grieb. Grieb was trying to put Duncan on the spot in some way, but Duncan beat him to it by putting a joker in the lease, and now Duncan is ready to clamp down on Grieb. It's a case of two crooks, each trying to outsmart the other, with Duncan holding more trumps."
"Why did Duncan tell you all this?"
"He wanted me to act as his lawyer."
"Why you? What I mean is, he must know you're hostile to him and…"
"That was the bait he held out," Mason said. "He told me he'd let me have those IOU's as my fee."
"Could he do that?"
"Probably."
"Why didn't you do it?"
"Because, in the first place, I don't like Duncan. In the second place, I don't like business of that sort. And in the third place, we don't have to do it. They're playing directly into our hands. Just because I wouldn't represent him doesn't mean Duncan isn't going ahead. He's ready to shoot now. He'll get some other lawyer. They'll strike out of a clear sky. Duncan will dissolve the partnership and file an action asking to have a receiver appointed. The court will issue an order requiring Grieb to appear and show cause why a receiver shouldn't be appointed. That order will probably be served sometime tonight. I'll arrange to be aboard the gambling ship when the service is made. There'll be a lot of fur flying out there, and what I'll say won't make matters any better. By the time I've finished, I'll have those IOU's."
Matilda Benson got to her feet, ground out the end of her cigar in an ash tray on the desk, smiled at Mason and said, "I like your methods very much, Mr. Mason. The affair is entirely in your hands."
When she had gone, Della Street came over to stand at Mason's side, her right hand resting lightly on his left shoulder. "Listen, Chief," she said, "I wish you wouldn't do it."
"Do what?"
"Go out to that gambling ship tonight."
"Why?"
"There's going to be trouble out there. Those men are going to get nasty."
"I can be nasty myself, on occasion," he told her.
"But you're out on their ship. You'll be out of the jurisdiction of all state laws. You're surrounded by their men who will do exactly what they're told."
"They're rats," Mason said. "I don't like either of them. I'm particularly sore at Grieb. It'll do me a lot of good to point out to Grieb just where he stands and show Duncan where he's overreached himself."
"And then what'll they do?" she said.
"When I get finished they'll turn over the IOU's to me at their face value, or perhaps for a few hundred dollars bonus," Mason said.
She smiled down at him as his arm circled her waist and drew her close. "Well," she told him, "there's nothing like being optimistic."
"Yes, this is Mr. Mason."
"Go ahead, please."
Mason heard Drake's voice saying, "Okay, Perry. Duncan's filed his lawsuit. He's had a summons and an order to show cause issued and is on his way down to the beach with a deputy marshal who's going to serve the papers. He'll go right to the gambling ship."
Mason said, "Thanks, Paul. When your shadows call in next, tell them not to follow Duncan any farther than the pier."
"Right," the detective said. "Now listen, Perry, here's something else: Frank Oxman is headed for the beach. The operative who's shadowing him telephoned in the report."
"How long ago?" Mason asked.
"About half an hour ago."
"Then Oxman will get aboard the ship before Duncan gets there?"
"It looks that way."
"That," Mason said, "may complicate things. Grieb's evidently…"
"Wait a minute," Drake cut in, "you haven't heard anything yet. Sylvia Oxman's been out somewhere and my men couldn't pick up her trail. I've had operatives shadowing her apartment, and just to be on the safe side, I assigned a man to shadow her maid. Now, the maid went out a little while ago wearing one of Sylvia's Oxman's fur coats. The shadow tailed along, handling it just as a routine assignment; but he drew the lucky number. The maid contacted Sylvia, and my man had a chance to telephone in for instructions. Of course, I told him to drop the maid and pick up Sylvia."
"Know where she was going?" Mason asked. "It's foggy as the devil down here now, Paul, and that fur coat may mean that she's heading for the gambling ship."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Drake said. "Here's a peculiar coincidence, Perry. I had to put so many men on this case that I didn't have a chance to check them over carefully. I've just discovered that the man who's tailing Sylvia knows Duncan and Grieb personally. Will that make any difference?"
"It may. Do they know he's a detective?"
"No, I don't think they do. From all I can learn, this chap, whose name's Belgrade, had some sort of a partnership with Duncan and Grieb and they froze him out. I think he dropped a few thousand. It was all the money he had in the world and he had to go to work. He'd been a detective before, and when he struck me for a job I liked his looks and gave him a trial. He seemed to do all right, so I kept giving him little jobs."
Mason said slowly, "I don't think you'd better let him go aboard the gambling ship, if that's the case, Paul. It might complicate matters."
"That's the way I figured," Drake said. "Of course, shadowing the maid was just a routine job, but after this man contacted Sylvia I remembered something about his having been mixed up with gamblers and looked up his history. Incidentally, Perry, he claims that Duncan is the more crooked and the more dangerous of the two, but that they're both a couple of crooks."
"Well," Mason said, "you'd better jerk him off before he gets out on the ship."
"Yeah, I'm rushing a man down to the wharf to relieve Belgrade. Staples is his name. You'll probably remember him. He worked on that Dalton murder case. Of course, I don't know that Sylvia's headed for the ship. If she is, the relief will take over."
"Okay," Mason said. "Anything else?"
"That's all, Perry, but listen: I don't like the way things are shaping up. You're playing with dynamite. These gamblers are bad actors, and if Grieb gets the idea you encouraged Duncan to play foxy, it may not be so hot. When you get aboard that ship you'll be on the high seas and the men who are working as a crew are pretty tough citizens."
"Forget it," Mason told him. "I'll be all right."
"Well," Drake said, "remember that if Sylvia Oxman goes aboard that ship I'll have Staples shadowing her. Staples knows you. If you should have any trouble you can count on him. He's packing a.38 automatic and knows how to use it. If it comes to a showdown, remember he'll stand back of you."
Mason laughed into the transmitter and said, "You're doing too much worrying, Paul."
"Well, watch your step, Perry."
"Okay," the lawyer said, and hung up. His face was granite-grim as he left the drugstore and went out to his car.
Fog hung over the beach town in a thick, white pall which muffled sounds and blanketed the street lights with reddish, circular auras. Mason drove slowly, his windshield wiper beating monotonously. He speeded up as he came to the better-lighted business district, drove to the amusement pier, parked his car, and walked down the lighted pathway between the concessions.
Here the bright blaze of lights dispersed the gloom of the fog, but a few feet above the tops of the concessions the moisture closed in as a curtain, reflecting the illumination below as a crimson glare.
A man was selling tickets at the steps which led down to the float, where a speed boat was waiting. "Here you are," he said, "three boats running constantly. Take a cruise out to the high seas. Out beyond the twelve-mile limit. Who's next?"
Mason bought a ticket, went down the slippery steps, his gloved hands sliding along the rope rail. Two men came just behind him, and Mason heard the ticket seller say, "That's all for this load. There'll be another boat in, in just a few minutes."
The water was like black oil. The glossy surface barely moved to a long lazy swell which gently rocked the waiting speed boat. Moisture dripped from the wharf to the water; and in the fog-muffled silence could be heard the gentle lapping of waves against the piles of the wharf, the sound of the idling motor in the speed boat.
Mason took his place in a rear seat. A line thudded to the float. The speed boat roared into motion. Moisture from the fog whipped over Mason's face. Behind him, the amusement concessions glowed for a few minutes as a yellow blob of light, then were swallowed into the fog. A horn, operated by compressed air, sent forth mournful warnings as the speed boat hissed through the darkness. The red and green running lights stained the reflecting fog in colored blotches.
By the time the speed boat pulled alongside the gambling ship, Mason was wet and chilled. The crowd which clambered stiffly from the boat to the landing stage showed none of the joyous spontaneity which had characterized those who had disembarked on Mason's previous visit. They climbed the swaying stairway, for the most part in silence, a black, somber line of people who would presently cluster about the bar in an attempt to warm their blood.
There were some half dozen people waiting at the head of the landing-stairs to go back on the speed boat. Mason walked down the deck toward the bar entrance, and heard the staccato exhaust of the launch ripping the silence of the night as it swung away toward land. He ordered a Tom-and-Jerry, sipped it in leisurely appreciation, responding to the genial warmth and the glittering lights which so brilliantly illuminated the interior of the bar. He checked his hat and coat, and heard the exhaust of another speed boat as it arrived and departed.
Mason strolled into the main gambling room and turned toward the passageway which led to the offices. There were perhaps eighty or a hundred players clustered around the various gambling tables. He saw nothing of the uniformed guard who had previously been stationed near the entrance to the offices, so marched unannounced down the echoing wooden passageway, made the right-angle turn, and pushed open the door of the reception office.
At first glance Mason thought the office was empty; then, in a corner, away from the door, he caught sight of a woman, dressed in a blue suit, an orange blouse giving it a splash of color, her face concealed by a magazine she was reading. A stretch of shapely leg showing beneath the skirt caught Mason's eye. Apparently absorbed in the magazine, she didn't look up as the lawyer entered the room. A blue leather handbag lay on her lap.
Mason stepped to the door which led to the inner office and knocked. There was no answer.
The woman in the far corner of the office looked up and said, "I don't think anyone's in there. I knocked several times and got no answer."
Mason stared at the ribbon of light which showed along the side of the door. "The door isn't even latched," he said. "I thought they always kept it locked."
The woman said nothing. The lawyer crossed the office, seated himself in a chair separated from hers by only a few feet, and turned casual eyes to her profile. He recognized her then as the woman he had seen on his last visit to the gambling ship – Sylvia Oxman – whose inopportune arrival had upset his plans.
Mason studied the toe of his shoe for a moment in frowning concentration, then turned to her and said, "You'll pardon me, but do you have an appointment with Mr. Grieb?"
"No," she said, "no appointment. I just wanted to see him."
"I," Mason told her, "have a very definite appointment, and it's for this hour. I don't like to inconvenience you, but it's important that I see him as soon as he comes in. My business will take about twenty minutes. Perhaps it would inconvenience you less if you went out and returned then."
She got swiftly to her feet. "Thank you very much for telling me," she said. And Mason thought there was relief in her voice, as though he had said something she had been hopefully anticipating.
"I'm sorry it's impossible for me to postpone the appointment in your favor," Mason said, smiling affably. "I think I'll wait for him in his private office."
Mason pushed open the heavy door as Sylvia Oxman tossed her magazine on the table and started for the passageway.
Sam Grieb's body, seated in the swivel chair, lay slumped over the huge desk. One shoulder was propped against the side of the desk. The head lolled at a grotesque angle, showing a red bullet hole in the left temple. A shaded lamp, which flooded illumination over the discolored face, was reflected from the glassy surfaces of open, staring eyes. The diamonds on his right hand sent out scintillating brilliance. His left hand was out of sight, under the desk.
Mason whirled back toward the outer office. Sylvia Oxman was just stepping into the corridor. "Sylvia!" he said sharply.
She paused at the sound of his voice, stood uncertainly in the doorway, then turned, dark eyes luminous with some emotion.
"Come here," Mason ordered.
"Just who are you?" she asked. "What do you want? What do you mean by speaking to me in…"
Mason reached her side in three swift steps, clamped strong fingers about her left arm just above the elbow. "Take a look," he ordered.
She hung back for a moment, then tried to shake herself free. Mason circled her swiftly with his arm and swung her through the door of the private office. She turned toward him indignantly, said, "How dare you…" and then broke off as she caught sight of the huddled figure at the desk. She opened her mouth to scream. Mason clamped his hand over her lips. "Steady now," he warned.
He waited until she struggled for breath, then released his hand and asked, "How long had you been waiting in the reception office before I came?"
"Just a minute or two," she said in a low, barely audible voice. She caught her breath. Her eyes, wild and staring, turned away from the desk, then, as though drawn by some overpowering fascination, drifted back.
"Can you prove it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did anyone see you come in?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. I can't tell… Who… who are you? I've seen you here before. You know my name."
Mason nodded and said, "My name's Mason. I'm a lawyer. Now listen, cut out this acting. Either you did this, or…"
He broke off as his eyes stared down at several oblongs of paper on the blotter. He reached forward and gingerly picked them up.
Sylvia Oxman gasped, "My IOU's! I came to pay up on them."
"Seventy-five hundred," Mason said. "Is that right?"
"Yes."
"You wanted to give Grieb the money for these?"
"Yes."
"That's why you came here tonight?"
"Yes."
"All right," Mason told her grimly, "let's see the money."
"What money?"
"Quit stalling. The seventy-five hundred bucks you were going to give Grieb in return for the IOU's."
"Why should I show it to you?"
Mason made a grab for her handbag. She avoided him, jumped back and stood staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Mason said, "You haven't got seventy-five hundred dollars."
She said nothing, her rapid breathing slightly distending her nostrils.
"Did you kill him?" Mason asked.
"No… of course not… I didn't know he was in here."
"Do you know who did?" She slowly shook her head.
Mason said, "Listen. I'm going to give you a break. Get out through that door, try to avoid being seen when you leave the passageway. Start gambling at one of the roulette tables. Wait for me. I'll talk with you out there, and you'll tell me the truth. Remember that, Sylvia, no lies."