The Case of the Mischievous Doll

“Would they have noticed her at that stage of the game?” Della Street asked.

“You’re darned right they would,” Mason said. “They are trained in that sort of thing. You’d be astounded to see what these officers can pick out of thin air. They’ve trained themselves to be alert. They have a sixth sense. They notice anything that is just a little bit out of the ordinary. At times it seems they’re telepathic.

“If three people were walking down the sidewalk or into the parking lot — two men with an unwilling woman in between them — they’d have noticed it.”

“You think there were two men?”

“I think the mattresses were dragged from the bedroom into the kitchen after Paul Drake and I rang the doorbell,” Mason said. “I don’t think one person would have had time to take two trips. I think there were two mattresses and therefore two persons dragging mattresses.

“Moreover, the problem of getting the girl out of the apartment house would have been almost insurmountable for one person. Remember that he had not only to get her out of the apartment house but he had to get her into a car and make a getaway. I keep thinking things will work out all right, that Dorrie knew what she was doing and that it was all part of a plan — all except the murder. The murder fouled things all up. That forced a change in plans — but Dorrie’s all right — somewhere.”

Knuckles tapped a code signal on the door of the private office and at Mason’s nod Della Street opened the door to let Paul Drake in.

“What’s new, Paul?” Mason asked.

“Quite a write-up in the papers,” Drake said.

“Wasn’t it?”

“The only thing it lacked was to have your picture alongside the cheesecake. The photograph they used of you was very sombre and dignified.”

“They pulled it out of the newspaper’s morgue,” Mason said. “They had to use what was available... What’s new, Paul?”

Drake said, “It’s possible, Perry, that your hunch about the apartment in the building could be an explanation.”

Mason’s face etched into hard lines. “How come, Paul?”

“The day before the abduction a man who gave his name as William Camas inquired about vacancies. He was told there was one on the eighth floor, Apartment 805. He looked at it and said he wanted his wife to look at it, that he thought it would be all right. He put up a hundred dollars for what he termed an option for three days, with the understanding that at the end of three days he’d either sign a lease or forfeit the hundred dollars.”

“And moved in?” Mason asked.

“Well, nobody knows for certain. The manager gave him the key to the apartment.”

“And what’s the condition of the apartment now? What does it indicate?” Mason asked. “Any fingerprints? Any—”

“Don’t be silly,” Drake said. “You thought of it and the police thought of it. The police started asking questions, found out about Camas and got a passkey to the apartment — and that’s all anyone knows. The street comes to a dead end at that point. If the police found out anything, they’re not passing out the information.”

“But they did check the apartment?”

“With a fine-toothed comb,” Drake said.

“And do you know if they talked with Camas?”

“No one knows if they talked with Camas.”

“You couldn’t find him?”

“Not a trace,” Drake said. “He gave a Seattle address. I’ve got my man checking it. My best guess is the address is phoney.”

The telephone rang. Della Street picked up the receiver, said, “Hello,” then motioned to Drake. “For you, Paul.”

Drake picked up the telephone, said, “Drake speaking,” listened for a few minutes, said, “You’re sure?... Okay, keep digging.”

Drake hung up, turned to Perry Mason and said, “That’s right. The address was a phoney.”

Mason said, “Hang it, Paul, that scuttles my last hope. I was banking on the theory they couldn’t have got her out of that apartment against her will.”

“I know,” Drake said sympathetically. “I know how you feel, but facts are facts. I have to give you the facts. That’s my job.”

“Damn it,” Mason said, “we’ve got to do something, Paul. Wherever she is, she’s counting on us for help.”

“Take it easy, Perry. A whole army of law enforcement people are working on the case. There’s nothing more we could do except get in their way.”

“You’re sure they’re working on it?”

“Hell, yes. My man in Seattle found the Camas address was a phoney. He was third in line. The Seattle police had been working on it, the Seattle FBI had been working on it.”

Mason said, “That girl is in danger.”

“Not now she isn’t,” Drake said. “I don’t want to be heartless about it, but if anything’s going to happen to her it’s happened already. If she’s dead, she’s dead. If she isn’t dead, it’s because she’s being held for some particular purpose, ransom or blackmail or something of that sort. There’s just nothing you can do, Perry, except wait it out.”

Mason sighed. “I have always been accustomed to controlling events, within reason. I hate like hell to find myself in a position where events are controlling me.”