The Case of the Postponed Murder (Perry Mason Series Book 82) by Erle Stanley Gardner

Author:Erle Stanley Gardner [Gardner, Erle Stanley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1842320890
Publisher: Della Street Press
Published: 2012-12-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Mason discharged the taxicab a block from the Balkan Apartments and reconnoitred carefully. The two plain clothes men who had followed the taxicab drove on past without so much as a look in Mason’s direction. Mason walked the block to the apartment house and looked at the directory for the name of Hazel Tooms.

As he pressed the button opposite her name, a man came walking briskly down the street from the opposite direction, turned into the apartment house, and fished in his pocket for a latchkey.

The electric door release buzzed, and the man who had been looking for his latchkey pushed against the door and went on in. Mason followed him, passed him in the corridor, walked to the elevator, and went to the fifth floor. He found 521 near the end of the corridor and tapped gently on the panels of the door.

The young woman who opened the door was taller than average and was dressed in lounging pyjamas. She carried herself firmly erect. Her brownish hair had highlights. Her eyes, blue and cautious, surveyed Perry Mason in frank appraisal. There was neither nervousness nor fear in her manner. She seemed quite capable of taking care of herself in any emergency.

“I don’t know you,” she said.

“A situation which I wish to remedy at once,” Mason replied, lifting his hat and bowing.

She looked him over from head to foot, then stood to one side. “Come in,” she said.

When Mason had entered the apartment, she closed the door, indicated a chair, and then, instead of seating herself, stood with her back to the door, her hands on the knob.

“All right,” she said. “What is it?”

Mason said, “My name is Mason. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Not a thing. If this is a mash, save your breath. I don’t go out with strangers.”

Mason said, “I’m doing a little investigating.”

“Oh,” she said.

“I have reason to believe,” Mason went on, “that you have some information in which I’d be interested.”

“What about?”

“About the Pennwent.”

“What about it?”

“When you saw it last and about Frank Marley’s Atina and when you saw it last.”

“A detective?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” Mason said.

“What’s your angle?”

“I’m representing someone who wants the facts.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Nothing.”

She left the door then and sat down across from Perry Mason. She crossed her legs and hugged one knee with the interlaced fingers of large, capable hands. “Pardon me for being cautious,” she said, “but you read so much stuff these days of men getting into women’s apartments, slugging them over the head, choking them, and playful little practices of that sort, and I was taking no chances.”

“Did I,” Mason asked, “look like one of those?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know what they look like.”

Mason laughed. Hazel Tooms smiled slightly.

“Well,” Mason said, “let’s get back to my question.”

“About the boats?”

“Yes.”

“What about them?”

“When did you see Frank Marley’s cruiser last?”

She smiled and said, “Really, Mr Mason, I’d prefer to get back to my original question.”

“What’s that?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Exactly what I told you the first time,” Mason said.

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