Erle Stanley Gardner
THE CASE OF THE DANGEROUS DOWAGER
CAST OF CHARACTERS
MATILDA BENSON - She drinks, swears, smokes cigars, and is something of a fighter
DELLA STREET - Perry Mason's devoted secretary, who is always urging her boss to be careful
PAUL DRAKE - A tall man with a carp-like grin who does all the leg work for Perry Mason
ARTHUR MANNING - Special officer on the gambling ship The Horn of Plenty
SAM GRIEB - Owner of The Horn of Plenty, and not averse to a little blackmail
CHARLIE DUNCAN - Grieb's shrewd partner, bald-headed, forty-five, and disarmingly pleasant
SYLVIA OXMAN - Who likes roulette and makes no bones about it
PERKINS - Who isn't an ex-jailer for nothing
JIMMY - Suspicious, close-mouthed bartender on The Horn of Plenty
BERT CUSTER - Who knows about guns
MARILYN SMITH - Bert's girl, who is observant as well as affectionate
FLO BELGRADE - A mercenary blonde-the kind you wouldn't trust around the block
GEORGE BELGRADE - Who sells out to the newspapers, and who would be married to just such a blonde
FRANK OXMAN - Who wants evidence against his wife
BASIL WILSON - Federal District Attorney
and PERRY MASON
CHAPTER 1
PERRY MASON studied the white-haired woman with that interest which new clients always aroused. She returned the lawyer's gaze with bright gray eyes in which a hard glitter gradually softened to a twinkle.
'No,' she said, 'I haven't killed anyone-not yet, I haven't. But don't think I'm a peaceful old lady who sits by the fire and knits, because I'm not. I'm a hard-bitten old hellion.'
The lawyer laughed. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'this gambling girl you wanted to see me about may be overshadowed by a…'
'Dowager,' she said, as he hesitated. 'Go on and say it-a dangerous dowager. I saw you in court when you were trying that howling dog case, Mr. Mason. I liked you because you fought every inch of the way. I'm something of a fighter myself.'
Della Street, catching Mason's eye, said to the woman, 'I'd like to have your name, age, and address for our office records.'
'The name's Matilda Benson,' the dowager said. 'The address is 1090 Wedgewood Drive. The age is none of your business.'
'How long have you been smoking cigars?' Mason asked curiously.
Her eyes flicked back to his. 'Ever since I kicked loose from the conventional traces.'
'When was that?'
'After my husband died and I realized what spineless hypocrites my relatives were… do you have to go into all that?'
Mason said, 'I'd like to know something about your background. Go ahead. You're doing fine-So you kicked over the traces?'
'Yes. And I'm getting worse every year. My husband's relatives think I'm a brand for the burning-and I don't give a damn what they think! You hear a lot about people who are afraid to die. Well, they're nothing compared to the ones who are afraid to live-people who go through life just making motions-and conventional motions at that. My relatives think I've started Sylvia on the downward path and…'
'Who's Sylvia?' Mason interrupted.
'My granddaughter.'
'Married?'
'Yes. To Frank Oxman. And they have a daughter, Virginia. She's six now.'
'So,' Mason said, 'you're a great-grandmother?'
She puffed contentedly at the big cigar. 'Yes,' she admitted, 'I'm a great-grandmother.'
'Tell me some more about your husband's relatives,' the lawyer invited. 'Have you been fighting with them?'
'Not particularly. I got fed up with them, with what they stood for. I just revolted, that's all.'
'Revolted at what?'
She frowned impatiently, 'Why worry so much about my ideas of life?'
'Because they're interesting. I want to get your mental background before I decide whether I can take your case.'
'Well,' she said, 'I'm making up some of my lost life. I was brought up according to rigid, puritanic standards. None of the people around me took time out to enjoy life. They couldn't enjoy youth because they were preparing to take a part in life. They couldn't enjoy themselves after that because they were saving money for their old age. And they put in their old age making peace with God. I was brought up on that philosophy. Then my husband died and I was left alone. There was some insurance money. I invested that and did well with it. I started to travel, looked around me, and decided I might as well enjoy life. I was past sixty and I'd never really lived.
'Now I drink, swear, smoke cigars, and do as I damn please. I'm tired of living a treadmill existence. I have enough money to allow me to do things the way I want.'
'And you need a lawyer?' Mason asked.
She nodded, suddenly serious.
'Why? Are you in some trouble?'
'Not yet.'
'But you expect to be?'
She pursed her lips thoughtfully, regarded the tip of her cigar, flicked the ash from it with a deftly expert little finger, and said, 'I hope it won't come to that.'
'Exactly what is it,' Mason asked, 'that you want me to do?'
'Do you know a man by the name of Sam Grieb?'
'No. Who is he?'
'He's a gambler He and a man by the name of Duncan run The Horn of Plenty. That's the gambling ship that's anchored out beyond the twelve-mile limit.'
'What about Grieb?' Mason asked.
'He's put Sylvia in a spot.'
'How?'
'He has her IOU's.'
'For how much?'
'Somewhere around seven thousand dollars.'
'What were they given for?' Mason asked.
'Gambling debts.'
'And you want me to get those without paying…'
'Certainly not,' she interrupted. 'I want you to pay every cent that's due on them. But I don't want to be held up for a bonus. I'll pay debts, but I won't pay blackmail.'
'Do you mean to say,' Mason asked, puzzled, 'that Grieb won't surrender the IOU's for their face value? Why,
