The Case of the Golddigger’s Purse

Mason said to Della Street, “When the officers come, tell them that the clerk was trying to annoy you with his attentions.”

The clerk promptly got up from his chair and followed Mason and Sally Madison out into the corridor. “I’ll take you down in the elevator,” he said.

“No need,” Mason told him. “We’d rather use the stairs.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sally Madison told Mason in something of a panic. “I’m going down in the elevator. It’s quicker.”

They entered the elevator. The clerk removed the catch which had been holding the door open, and pressed the button for the lobby. “The bill’s six dollars,” he said.

Mason gravely took a five-dollar bill, a one-dollar bill, and a twenty-five-cent piece from his pocket, handed them to the clerk.

“What’s the two-bits for?”

“A tip for checking out,” Mason said.

The clerk calmly pocketed the twenty-five cent piece, held the six dollars in his left hand. “No hard feelings,” he said as he opened the door of the elevator on the lobby floor, “but we’ve had trouble here before. We have to keep the joint clean or we’ll be closed up. I’m sorry.”

Mason took Sally Madison’s arm. “You and I are due for a little talk,” he said.

She didn’t even look at him, but quickened her step until she was almost running across the lobby. They were halfway to the door when it was pushed open and a uniformed officer from a radio car said, “What’s the trouble?”

Mason tried to edge past him. The man blocked the door, looked over Mason’s shoulder to the clerk.

“Couple of girls in 613,” the clerk said wearily. “They violated the rules of the hotel, receiving company in their room. I asked them to get out.”

“This one of the girls?”

“That’s right.”

“Where’s the other one?”

“Getting dressed.”

“Who was the company?”

The clerk jerked his thumb toward Mason. The officer grinned at Mason, said, “We don’t want you, but since I’m here, I think I’ll ask a few questions of the girls.”

Mason gravely produced a card. “The fault,” he said, “lies with the hotel. My secretary was spending the night with Miss Madison, who is my client. I’m representing her in rather an important piece of litigation. I called to get some information.”

The officer seemed duly impressed by Mason’s card. “Then why didn’t you tell that to the clerk and save us a trip?”

“I tried to,” Mason said self-righteously.

“It’s an old gag,” the clerk said wearily. “You’d be surprised how many times I’ve heard that stuff. They’re all secretaries.”

“But this man is Perry Mason, the lawyer. Haven’t you ever heard of him?”

“Nope.”

The officer said, “I’ll just check up on this thing, Mr. Mason. I guess it’s all right, but seeing the call’s been made, I’ve got to make a report on it, and I’d better make a check, and — let’s take a look at the register.”

Sally Madison started to push past him to the door.

“No you don’t, sister,” the officer said, “not yet. Don’t be in such a hurry. Wait five minutes and it’ll all be cleared up and you can go get yourself some breakfast, or go back to your room, whichever you want. Let’s just take a look at the register for luck.”

The clerk showed the officer where Della Street had signed the register.

“This Sally Madison your secretary?” the officer asked.

“No. Della Street is.”

The elevator made noise in the shaft.

“She’s up in the room?” the officer asked.

“That’s right,” Mason said.

The clerk said somewhat querulously, “I’m doing just what the Vice Squad told me to. They said that we could either get a house dick who would be acceptable to the Vice Squad, or we’d have to report every violation of rules in regard to visitors. I had a hunch not to let these two girls in the first place. I’m going to be sore if I follow instructions and then you show up and pour a bucket of whitewash over ’em.”

“What time did they check in?”

“About half past two this morning.”

“Half past two!” the officer said, and gave Mason the benefit of a frowning scrutiny.

Mason said suavely, “That’s why I wanted my secretary to keep Miss Madison with her tonight. It was late when we finished working on the case, and...”

The elevator rattled to a stop. Della Street, carrying her overnight bag, stepped out, then stopped as she saw the trio at the desk.

“This is the other one,” the clerk said.

The officer said to Della Street, “You’re Mr. Mason’s secretary?”

“That’s right.”

“I suppose you have something in your purse — social security card, or something of that sort.”

Della Street said brightly, “And a driving license, a key to Mr. Mason’s office, and a few other things.”

“I’d better take a look,” the officer said apologetically.

Della Street took out a small inner purse, showed him her driving license and the card containing her social security number.

The officer nodded to the night clerk. “Okay,” he said. “You did all right under the circumstances. I’ll report it. But you don’t need to put these girls out. Let them go back to the room.”

“I’m on my way,” Sally Madison announced definitely. “I’ve had all the sleep I want, and right now I’m ravenously hungry.”