The Case of the Blonde Bonanza

'Moose said he left it inside.'

'Then what?'

'I rode around with Moose for a while and talked with him. After that I had him take his car and I got my car. Moose went on his way and I came back here.'

'You say you talked with him.'

'That's right.'

'What did you talk with him about?'

'You have two guesses.'

'You didn't make any suggestion that he should duck out, did you?'

'Heavens, no. Far be it from me to make any suggestion like that-perish the thought! Of course, I pointed out to him that if the police wanted to question him they could, but he really didn't have any obligation to do anything except report to Paul Drake-and he's lost his notebook.'

'Lost his notebook!' Mason said.

'That's right. It must have dropped from his pocket somewhere. Of course I pointed out to him that he'd cut rather a sorry figure if he didn't have that notebook.'

'Look here, Sid, let's be frank. Did you steal that notebook or hide it?'

'Not in that sense of the word. Dillard feels it must have fallen out of his pocket when he was getting in his car. He had his coat over his arm and he tossed the coat into the car.'

'Will the police find it?'

'I don't think so. I saw it when it dropped to the floor of the car. I also have a vague recollection of seeing something fall out when I opened the car door to let Dillard out. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time. I could go back and look in the gutter.'

Mason frowned. 'You can't afford to take chances with the police in a murder case, Sid.'

'Sure. I know that. On the other hand, I'm not Diilard's guardian. The guy can go to the police later on if his conscience bothers him.

'Now, what happened in connection with this anonymous tip on Dianne? Did the police question her?' Nye asked.

'No.'

'Why?'

'I wouldn't let them.'

'The police must be pretty soft here in Riverside.'

'I was pretty hard,' Mason said. 'If they'd had any evidence, they'd have taken her in, but to drag a nice young woman down to headquarters simply on the strength of an anonymous tip is poor business from a public relations standpoint.

'Do you know where Dillard went?'

'I wouldn't have the slightest idea,' Nye said, looking up at the ceiling.

'Suppose we should happen to need him? Suppose we should want to get in touch with him in a hurry?'

'Wherever he is,' Nye said, 'I'm quite certain he reads, or will read, the Riverside papers, and any ad that was put in the classified column would undoubtedly get his attention.'

'I see,' Mason said.

'Well, I must be going,' Nye told him. 'I have quite a few things to do and I wouldn't be too surprised if they didn't put your suite here under surveillance a little later on. It might be just as well if I kept in touch with you by telephone.'

'Your calls will go through a switchboard,' Mason warned.

'Oh, sure,' Nye said. 'I wouldn't say anything that I wouldn't want everybody to hear. Of course if I should talk to you about moose hunting, you'll know what it's all about.'

'Sure,' Mason said, dryly.

'And I can tell you the most likely place we could go to find a moose.'

'I'm quite certain,' Mason said, 'that the information would be of interest to me but only in the event I should want to hunt a moose. Right now I can't imagine anything that would be further from my thoughts.'

Nye grinned, said, 'You know where you can reach me if you want me,' and went out.

For some ten minutes Mason paced the floor thoughtfully, smoking a cigarette, his head bent forward in frowning concentration.

Then the chimes sounded on the door.

Mason crossed over and opened it.

George Winlock stood on the threshold. 'May I come in?' he asked.

'Certainly,' Mason said. 'Come right in, sit down.'

Winlock entered, seated himself, regarded Mason thoughtfully from behind the tinted lenses of his glasses.

Mason said, 'You don't need to wear those now, you know.'

'I've worn them for fourteen years,' Winlock said. 'I really do need them now.'

'You had something in mind?' Mason asked.

Winlock said, 'I have a problem that's bothering me.'

'What is it?'

'Dianne.'

'What about her?'

'I have been pretty much of a heel as far as she is concerned.'

'Do you expect me to argue that point with you?'

'Frankly I do not, but I want to make some sort of settlement, some sort of restitution.'

'Such as what?'

'Property.'

'A girl who has been attached to her father and then is led to believe that her father is dead, and subsequently finds out that he has been alive all of the time but hasn't cared enough about her to lift his finger to get in touch with her, is apt to have lost a good deal of her filial devotion.'

'I can understand that. I thought perhaps you and I could discuss the property end of the situation and then later on, perhaps, Dianne could be made to see things from my viewpoint and realize that under the circumstances there wasn't much else I could have done.'

'I'm afraid that's a viewpoint that will be pretty hard for her to grasp.'

'However,' Winlock said, 'I see no reason for airing all of this in the press.'

'It will be uncovered.'

'I don't think so.'

'I do,' Mason said. 'Montrose Foster, president of the Missing Heirs and Lost Estates, Inc., is on your trail.'

'Exactly.'

'You knew that?' Mason asked.

'I know it now.'

'You can't hush anything up with Foster nosing around, prying into the background.'

'I'm not entirely certain you're right,' Winlock said. 'Foster is basing his investigation upon the premise Dianne has some relative who died and left an estate in which she could share. Actually there was such a relative, a distant relative of mine, and the estate is small. I feel Foster can be handled in such a way he will go chasing off on a false trail.'

'I see,' Mason said.

'That leaves you,' Winlock said.

'And Dianne,' Mason reminded him.

'Dianne is a very considerate young woman. She isn't going to do anything that would ruin the lives of other people.'

'Meaning the woman who is known as your wife?'

'Yes. I repeat, that leaves you, Mr. Mason.'

'It leaves me.'