he'd have to. He'd be…'
'Don't jump at conclusions, young man,' she snapped. 'There's a lot more to this than you know about. There's a lot more to it than I'm going to tell you. But Grieb has heard in a roundabout way that Sylvia's husband, Frank Oxman, might be willing to pay more than face value for those IOU's.'
'Why?' Mason asked.
'Evidence,' she snapped.
'Evidence of what?'
'Evidence that Sylvia is a chronic gambler and can't be trusted with money.'
'Why does Frank want to get evidence of that?'
'Because he does.'
'Why does he?'
'I don't think,' she said, 'I'm going into that right now. All I want you to do is get those IOU's. I'll give you the money to take them up. If you have to pay a bonus, pay a bonus, but don't pay a big one. I hate blackmail and I hate blackmailers.'
'But,' Mason objected, 'you don't need me. Simply give your granddaughter the money and tell her to go to the gambling ship and take up the IOU's. They'd have to surrender them if she offered to redeem them.'
Matilda Benson shook her head. 'I don't want to make it that easy for her. I'm going to teach my granddaughter a lesson by scaring the hell out of her. I want you to get those IOU's and give them to me as soon as you get them. I don't care how you get them.'
'I'm afraid,' Mason said, 'I wouldn't care to handle it. After all, this isn't a legal matter. It's something a detective can handle to better advantage. Now, Paul Drake, of the Drake Detective Agency, handles my work. He's thoroughly competent and trustworthy. I'll put you in touch with him and…'
'I don't want a detective,' she interrupted. 'I want you.'
'But if you hired me,' Mason protested, 'I'd turn around and hire Drake. He does all my leg work.'
'I don't care what you do, nor whom you hire,' Matilda Benson said. 'That's up to you. And don't think this is going to be an easy job. You're going up against a crook who is smart as a steel trap and absolutely ruthless.'
Mason said, 'I'm afraid you're making a mountain out of a molehill.'
'No,' she said, 'you're the one who's making a molehill out of a mountain. I'll pay you a retainer of twenty-five hundred dollars. I'll pay you another twenty-five hundred when you get those IOU's, if you can get them in such a way that my name doesn't figure in it. And I'll pay all your expenses, including whatever you have to pay out for detectives and whatever you have to pay to get those IOU's. That's fair, isn't it?'
Mason watched her with a puzzled frown.
'Could I,' he asked, 'go out to call on Grieb and tell him I was acting as Sylvia's attorney and…'
'No, because he'd tell Sylvia, and Sylvia mustn't know anything about it.'
'And you don't want Grieb to know that you're interested in it?'
'No. Aside from that, the sky's the limit. You can work any scheme on him you want to. But don't let him know you're willing to pay a bonus, because the minute you do he'll stall you off until he can get to Frank Oxman for a bigger bid and start playing you, one against the other.'
'That,' Mason admitted, 'complicates matters.'
'Of course it complicates matters. I haven't the faintest idea how you're going about it. But I do know that if anyone can handle those two crooks, you're the one to do it.'
'You don't think they've approached Oxman yet?'
'Not yet.'
Mason stared thoughtfully at the carpet for a moment, then raised his eyes and said smilingly, 'Let's go.'
Matilda Benson pulled a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills from her handbag. 'This,' she said, 'is the money you can use in taking up the IOU's. You'll have to pay cash. The balance will apply on your fees and expenses.'
Mason took the money. 'My secretary will give you a receipt, Mrs. Benson, and…'
'I don't want a receipt,' she said.
The lawyer regarded her quizzically.
'You see,' she said, 'I know all about the person with whom I'm dealing. And,' she added with a chuckle, 'that's more than you can say, Mr. Perry Mason. Good day!'
CHAPTER 2
PERRY MASON, thumbs hooked through the armholes of his vest, paced his office, glancing impatiently at his wristwatch. 'You left word for Paul Drake to come in as soon as he came to his office?' he asked.
Della Street nodded. 'How are you going about it, Chief?' she asked.
'I've got a scheme,' he told her, 'that may work. We'll lay a trap and see if Sam Grieb walks into it.'
'Suppose he doesn't?'
Mason grinned and said, 'Then we'll think up another scheme.'
'I don't suppose,' she said, her eyes wistful, 'that it would do any good to ask you to be careful?'
'None whatever.'
'Why can't you let Paul Drake handle those gamblers?'
'Because my client doesn't want Paul, she wants me. I collected the fee and I take the responsibility.'
'Most generals,' she pointed out, 'don't go into the front-line trenches.'
'And thereby miss all the fun,' he told her.
She nodded slowly. 'Yes,' she agreed, 'life in this office never lacks for excitement.'
'Like it, Della?'
'Of course I like it.'
'Then why adopt that hang-your-clothes-on-a-hickory-limb-but-don't-go-near-the-water attitude?'
'Just my maternal instinct, Chief.'
'You're too young to have maternal instincts.'
'You'd be surprised. There's Paul Drake at the door, now.' Della Street crossed the office, opened a door and nodded to the tall man who grinned down at her.
Drake's mouth twisted into a carp-like grin as he closed the door behind him and said, 'My God, Perry, don't tell me you're starting a new case. Or did you want to conduct a postmortem on that other one?'
Mason said, 'The other one's finished, Paul. This is a new one. Do you own any evening clothes?'
The detective chuckled. 'Sure, I list them in my office inventory as a disguise. Why?'
'Know a man by the name of Sam Grieb?'
'You mean the gambler?'
'Yes.'
'Know of him. I don't know him personally. He runs this gambling ship, The Horn of Plenty, which is anchored out beyond the twelve-mile limit. Every once in a while they try to control him by passing ordinances about the speed boats that run out there, but they don't get very far with it.'
'What's his reputation, Paul?' Mason asked.
'Hard as steel and cold as concrete,' the detective said. 'He's a good business man, and he's reported to be making money. I can find out all about him within twenty-four hours if you want.'
'No,' Mason said, 'that isn't going to be necessary, Paul. Here's the sketch. A married woman, name of Sylvia Oxman, has left IOU's with Grieb. These IOU's amount to somewhere around seven thousand dollars. She hasn't the money to take them up right now. And her husband's willing to pay a bonus to get his hands on them. That's all anyone has told me, and that's all I'm telling you. I did a little thinking. You can do the same.'
'Well,' Drake said, 'if Grieb wants to peddle those IOU's to the husband, there isn't any way we can stop him, is there?… Unless the woman went out there and paid off the IOU's and demanded possession of them.'
Mason grinned. 'Looking at it from a purely ethical and legal standpoint, Paul, you may be right.'
The detective crossed his fingers. 'I suppose you've hatched out some scheme by which we'll just scrape past the walls of State's Prison, if we're lucky, and be corpses or convicts if we're not. Well, Perry, count me out. I've had enough.'
