The Case of the Mischievous Doll

“We’re already busy,” Drake said. “I’ve got tentacles stretching out in every direction, trying to cover everything I can.”

“What about the kidnapping, Paul?”

“I don’t know. The police are playing it awfully close to their chest. Of course, under the circumstances you can realize that they wouldn’t take us into their confidence, and it’s probably good business not to tell the newspapers too much about it, but they’re certainly playing it cozy.”

“All right,” Mason said, “you get busy, Paul, and find out everything you can. Try particularly to find out something about the background of Dorrie Ambler.”

“You don’t think you should tell the police what you know?”

“I’m hanged if I know, Paul,” Mason said. “I think probably I will, but I want to think it over a bit. I’ll get rid of a few pressing appointments and then be in touch with you.”

“Okay,” Drake said, “I’ll be on the job.”

Mason said to Della Street, “I guess I’ll copy Paul Drake’s diet, Della. Get me a couple of sandwiches from the restaurant around the corner and put some coffee on. I’ll start seeing these clients who have been waiting.”

“Don’t you want to wait and eat afterwards?” Della Street asked.

“Frankly I do,” Mason said, “but some of those clients are a little angry. They feel they’ve been cooling their heels in my outer office while I’ve been out to lunch, enjoying myself.

“The psychological effect of having a hamburger sandwich in one hand and a law book in the other is remarkably soothing to the irate client. I’ll tell them I had such an important matter come up I had to break my luncheon engagement.”

“In other words,” Della Street said, “these sandwiches are to be props.”

“Props with a use,” Mason said. “Send in the first client, Della, and go get the sandwiches as soon as he comes in.”

She glided out into the outer office and a moment later Mason’s first client came stalking into the room.

Mason said, “I’m sorry I had to keep you waiting. I was out on a major emergency. I’m going to impose on your good nature by grabbing a sandwich while we talk. I’m famished.

“Della, hand me that file with the memorandum on this case and get a couple of hamburgers, if you will.”

“Right away,” Della Street promised, handing him the filing jacket.

As Mason opened the folder the expression on the client’s face softened.

Mason hurried through that interview and four more, nibbling at sandwiches and drinking coffee.

He was interviewing his last client when the telephone rang three short bells signaling that the switchboard operator was holding an important call.

Della Street picked up the telephone, said, “Yes, Gertie,” then turned to Mason. “Lieutenant Tragg,” she said.

“In the office?” Mason asked.

“No, on the line.”

Mason picked up the telephone, said, “Yes, Lieutenant, this is Mason.”

Tragg said, “I’ve given you some breaks today, Mason. I’m going to give you some more.”

“Yes,” Mason said dryly. “I hope the substance you put on the exhaust of my automobile doesn’t interfere with the operating efficiency.”

“Oh, not at all, not at all,” Tragg said.

“I presume my car was followed,” Mason observed.

“Oh, of course,” Tragg said casually. “You wouldn’t expect us to have you right in our hands, so to speak, and then let you slip through our fingers. We know all about your trip out to Miss Minden’s at Montrose.”

“I presume,” Mason said, “you’re going to extend some more favors and I’ll find that they were simply bait for a very elaborate trap.”

“Oh, but such beautiful bait,” Tragg said. “This is something that you absolutely can’t resist, Perry.”

“What is it?” Mason asked.

Tragg said, “I felt that you couldn’t make time enough to get here so I’m sending an officer. He should be in your office within a matter of seconds. If you and Della Street will come up here — just walk right into my office in case I shouldn’t be there. If I’m not in, I won’t keep you waiting very long... I’ll really do you a favour.”

“Bait?” Mason asked.

“Beautiful bait,” Tragg said, and hung up.

Again the phone rang, a series of short, sharp rings. Della Street picked it up, said, “Yes, Gertie?” Then turned to Mason. “A uniformed officer is in the outer office. He has a police car down in front with the motor running and instructions to get both of us to Headquarters just as fast as possible.”

Mason’s client jumped up. “Well, I think we’ve covered most of the points, Counselor. Thank you. I’ll get in touch with you.”

Mason said, “Sorry,” pushed back his chair, cupped his hand over Della Street’s elbow, said, “Come on, Della, let’s go.”

“You think it’s that important?” Della Street asked.

Mason said, “At this stage of the case I welcome any new developments, either pro or con... Remember, Della, no talking in the police car. Those officers sometimes have big ears.”

Della Street nodded.

They hurried out to the outer office. The waiting officer said, “I’m under instructions to get you to Headquarters just as fast as possible without using red light or siren, but hogging traffic all the way.”