'Not recently,' Ellen Robb said dryly.
'And somebody has been knocking down on him?' Mason asked.
'He seems to think so, and I would assume he probably is right.'
'Could that person or those persons have tampered with your cash register?'
She shook her head. 'Most of the knocking down that is done,' she said, 'is done at the bar. People who buy drinks at the bar pay cash, and if the bar is very busy and the bartender takes in four or five payments at once, he can ring up varying amounts in the cash register and there is no one to check on him. For instance, let us suppose one man has a cocktail which is seventy-five cents or a dollar. Another man has a drink which is sixty cents. Another person has bought drinks for three or four, and his bill is two dollars and eighty-five cents.
'By timing things just right a good bartender can be preoccupied at just the right moment so that every glass gets empty at about the same time. That makes for a rush of business and a lot of payments being made all at once.
'So then the bartender picks up all the money, goes over to the cash register and starts ringing up sales of varying amounts.
'If the bartender is good at mental arithmetic, he can add up the figures in his mind and ring up an amount that is exactly two dollars short of the real amount. Then he gives each customer his exact change. Various amounts have been leaping into sight on the cash register, staying there for just a moment only to be superseded by another amount. Nobody can tell for certain what check is being rung up. If the bartender sees someone paying attention to the cash register, he is scrupulously accurate in ringing up the amounts, but if people are talking and not paying too much attention, he'll knock down a couple of dollars and no one is any the wiser. He'll do that perhaps ten to twenty times in an evening.'
'Were you doing any of this work at the bar?'
'Not last night. I was handling the main cash register. I had the only key to it while I was on duty-at least, it was supposed to be the only key. I would Sit there on the stool, and people would come to me with their checks, or the waitresses would come to check out the amounts due at their tables. I'd take in the money and give out the change.'
'Was there any reason why you couldn't have knocked down if you had wanted to?' Mason asked.
'There's more of a check on the main cash register. The waitresses issue dinner checks and keep a carbon copy which has to be filed when they go off shift. Theoretically the cash rcgister should show a total income equal to the exact total amount of checks issued by the waitresses. But there are lots of ways of beating that game.'
'How?' Mason asked.
'Walks, for one.'
'Walks?' Mason asked.
'A customer pays his bill directly at the cash register,' she said. 'The amount of the bill is two dollars and eighty-five cents. He gives you a twenty-dollar bill. You pretend to be very much interested in the addition on the check, then apparently something goes wrong with the key on the cash register. You concentrate on that. Eventually you ring up two dollars and eightyfive cents; still without apparently paying too much attention to him, you hand him fifteen cents, then give him two one-dollar bills, then hand him a five, then look back at the cash register for a minute. Nine times out of ten the man will pocket the change and walk away. If he starts to pocket the change and then stops suddenly, or if he still waits there, you take out two additional fives and give it to him with a smile, then start looking back at the cash register again.'
'You seem to know all the tricks,' Mason said thoughtfully.
'I've heard
'And you sing?'
'Yes.'
'Let's hear,' Mason said.
She tilted back her head, sang a few bars of a popular song, then stopped and said, 'My throat's always a little thick in the morning-I love to sing-I like melody, always have, but singing in rooms filled with stale tobacco smoke is hard on the throat.'
Mason nodded, studied the young woman's face.
'You've had ups and downs?' he asked.
'Mostly downs,' she said, 'but I'm in there fighting. I think I'll go back to modeling. I can get by doing that-only there's no future in it.'
'How does George Anclitas stand in Rowena?' Mason asked.
'It depends on whom you ask. He owns the justice of the peace and he has something on Miles Overton, the chief of police. As far as official circles are concerned, George stands ace high. Some of the citizens don't like him but they all kowtow to him. He's powerful.'
'I think,' Mason said, 'we're going to interrupt a somewhat busy day to call on George Anclitas. You don't happen to know his telephone number, do you?'
'Rowena 6-9481.'
Mason nodded to Della Street. 'Get George on the phone, Della. Let's see what he has to say.'
A few moments later Della Street, who had been busy at the dial of the telephone, nodded to Perry Mason.
Mason picked up the receiver. 'George Anclitas?' he asked.
'Sure,' the voice at the other end of the line said. 'Who are you? What do you want?'
'I'm Perry Mason. I'm a lawyer.'
'All right. What does a lawyer want with George?'
'I want to talk with you.'
'What about?'
'About an employee.'
'Who?'
'Ellen Robb, a singer.'
'That tramp. What about her?'
'I'm coming out to see you,' Mason said. 'It will take me about half an hour to get there. Miss Robb will be with me. I want all of her personal possessions, I want all of the money that she has coming to her, and I'll talk with you about the rest of it.'
'All right,' George said. 'Now I'll tell you something. You bring Ellen Robb out here, and she gets arrested quick. If she wants to spend the next sixty days in the clink, this is the place for her. Tell her I've got the reception committee all ready.'
'Very well,' Mason said, 'and since you're planning a reception committee, you might go to the bank and draw out ten thousand dollars.'
'Ten thousand dollars! What are you talking about?'
'I am about to file suit on her behalf for defamation of character, for slanderous remarks and false accusation. If you have ten thousand dollars available in cash, I might advise Miss Robb to make a cash settlement rather than go to court.'
'What the hell you talking about?' Anclitas shouted into the telephone.
'About the business I have with you,' Mason said, and hung up.
The lawyer looked across the desk at Ellen Robb's startled eyes. 'Want to put on your coat and go?' he asked.
She took a deep breath. 'No one has ever talked to George Anclitas like that. I want very much to put on my coat and go.'
Mason nodded to Della Street. 'Bring a notebook, Della.'
CHAPTER THREE
The Big Barn in Rowena was a two-story frame building, the front of which had been made to resemble the entrance to a barn. Double barn doors were half open. A recessed partition in the back of the doors, which was not over two feet deep but to which the ends of bales of straw had been fastened, created the impression of a huge barn crammed with baled hay.
A motel was operated in connection with the other activities, and a sign at the road blazoned TROUT FISHING POOL. RODS, REELS RENTED. FISH BAIT SOLD. NO LICENSE NECESSARY.
Perry Mason parked his car, assisted Della Street and Ellen Robb to the curb, then walked across to open the door to the night club.
After the bright sunlight of the sidewalks, the interior seemed to be encased in thick gloom. Figures moved around in the shadows.
A man's voice said, 'I'm Miles Overton, the chief of police of Rowena. What are you folks doing here?'
Ellen Robb gave a little gasp.
'Where's George Anclitas?' Mason asked.
'Here I am.'
George Anclitas pushed his way belligerently forward, his deep-set eyes glittering with hostility at Perry Mason.
Mason's eyes rapidly adjusted themselves to the dim light.
'I'm Perry Mason. I'm an attorney,' he said. 'I'm representing Ellen Robb. You threw her out of here last night without giving her a chance to get her things. The first thing we want is to get to her locker and get her belongings.'
'All right, all right,' George said. 'You want to go to the locker. The chief of police is here. He'll search the locker.'
'Not without a warrant he won't.'
'That's what you think,' the chief said. 'When she opens that door I take a look. George Anclitas owns this place. He's given me permission to search any part of it I want.'
'The locker is the property of my client,' Mason said.
'She got a deed to it?' George asked.
'It was designated as a place where she could store her things,' Mason said.
'While she was working here. She isn't working here any more. I want to take a look in there. I want to see what's in there. I'll bet you I'll find some of the money that's been missing from the cash register.'
'You mean,' Mason said, 'that she would have taken the money from the cash register last night, then gone to her locker, unlocked the locker, opened the door, put the money in there, then closed and locked the door again?'
'Where else would she have put it?' George asked.
Mason regarded his client with twinkling eyes. 'There,' he said, 'you have a point.'
'You're damned right I got a point,' George said.
