The Case of the Mischievous Doll

“So,” she said, “the next day I was told to go to Hollywood Boulevard and Western, that I was to cross the street, walk one block along Hollywood Boulevard, wait ten minutes, walk back, cross Western, then cross Hollywood Boulevard and go up the other side of the street; wait ten minutes, then come back down and retrace my steps. I was to keep that up at ten-minute intervals for two hours.”

“You did it?” Mason asked.

“I only did part of it.”

“What part?”

“About the third time — I think it was the third time I was making the trip up Hollywood Boulevard I passed a store and a little girl cried out, ‘Momma, there she is now!’ ”

“Then what happened?”

“A woman ran to the door and took a look at me and then suddenly dashed out of the store and started following me.”

“What did you do?”

“I walked up Hollywood Boulevard just as I had been instructed, and the photographer was there at the corner and took a picture of me, and I think of the woman following me. Then suddenly I got frightened. I jumped in my car which I’d left parked on the side street and drove away as fast as I could.”

“That was when?”

“That was yesterday.”

“And then what?”

“Then I made it a point to look up Minerva Minden, and the more I saw of the thing the more I was satisfied that I was being groomed as a double for some sinister purpose. So I made up my mind that I’d just bring matters to a head.”

“By shooting up the airport?”

“I decided I’d do something so darned spectacular that the whole business would be brought out into the open.”

“So what did you do?”

“I rang up the number for instructions. They told me I didn’t need to do anything today. I learned that Miss Minden was taking a plane for New York. I checked her reservation. So I got all prepared and went to the airport.

“She was wearing the same clothes that I was and... well, I got the pistol, loaded it with blank cartridges, had you inspect my appendicitis operation scar so there could be no question— Oh, it’s terribly mixed up, Mr. Mason, but it was the best way I could think of, of—”

“Never mind all that,” Mason said. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, I went down to the airport. I waited until Minerva showed up and went into the women’s room, then I jumped up, grabbed the gun, yelled ‘This isn’t a stick-up’ and shot into the air. Then I dashed into the women’s room. There are several stalls in there for showers where a person can put in a coin, get a shower, towels and all of that. Those stalls insure complete privacy. So I ran into the rest room, skidded the gun along the floor, put the coin in the slot and went into the shower.

“I felt sure that Minerva would walk into the trap, and of course she did.”

“You mean she came out of the rest room and was identified?”

“She came out of the rest room and was promptly identified. People came crowding around her and the cops started questioning her and of course that gave her a pretty good background of what had happened.”

“And at that time you thought she’d say that she hadn’t done it at all, that it was someone else and the officers would look in the rest room and find you.”

“Well, I wasn’t certain that it would go that far. I thought that I would have an opportunity to get out of the rest room in the excitement before the officers came in and searched, but what I was totally unprepared for was to have her realize what had happened and with diabolical coolness say that she had been the one who had fired the shots.”

Mason looked at his client steadily.

“She was the one who fired the shots, wasn’t she, Dorrie? And you’re working some part of a carefully rehearsed scheme?”

“On my honour, Mr. Mason, I was the one who fired those shots. Minerva was the one who tried to take the blame — and I can tell you how you can prove it in case you absolutely have to. I was afraid that if I said ‘This is a stick-up,’ that even if the gun had blank cartridges in it I might be guilty of some sort of a felony, of trying to get money by brandishing a firearm or something, so I played it safe by shouting at the top of my voice, ‘This isn’t a stick-up.’

“Now, I know that most of the witnesses heard what they thought they should have heard, and claim the person brandishing the gun said this is a stick-up. But if you should ever have to cross-examine them and should ask them if it wasn’t a fact that the woman said this isn’t a stick-up, I’ll bet you they would admit that that’s what they really heard — but you know how it is. No one wants to come forward and be the first to say the woman said this isn’t a stick-up. It would make them sound sort of foolish and... well, that’s the way it is. No one would want to be the first, but once someone tells the real truth the others will fall in line.”

“Just what did you have in mind?” Mason asked. “What do you want me to do now?”

She said, “I want you to protect my interests. I would like to find out what it is that happened on the sixth of September that would have caused someone to go to all this trouble.”