The Case of the Queenly Contestant

“My father died. My mother married again. Then her second husband died, and a few months ago my mother died. She left an estate of some fifty thousand dollars and no heirs. She left a will stating that the money was all to go to me if I was still alive and if I could be found.”

“Your mother was still living in this little town,” Mason asked, “where she...?”

“No, she had moved to Indianapolis. I had several... well, I had kept myself advised of what she was doing and where she was living. I would send her Christmas cards and birthday cards with no signature on them, but I think she knew whom they were from all right.

“Anyhow, I employed an attorney in Indianapolis, went there, established my identity, and collected the money. No one connected me with the winner of the bathing-beauty contest twenty years ago.”

“And what makes you think you could be connected with the past now?” Mason asked.

She said, “In twenty years the little town where I lived has become a fairly big city. The evening paper. The Cloverville Gazette, is a bustling, enterprising, aggressive newspaper.

“It has been publishing a series of articles on what happened twenty-five years ago, twenty years ago, fifteen years ago, and it has asked its readers for suggestions, follow-ups on old news stories that they think would be of interest to the readers.

“A few days ago a reader sent in this letter,” she said. “It speaks for itself.”

She opened her purse and took out a newspaper clipping and handed it to the lawyer.

Mason read the clipping aloud:

“Twenty years ago this city was signally honored by having one of its residents chosen as the most beautiful young woman in the entire state.

“Ellen Calvert brought great honors to this city. Her dazzling beauty made an impression not only locally but in Hollywood. Then, at the height of her popularity, she went to Europe on what was supposed to be the start of a stage career.

“Nothing ever came of the stage career. It would be interesting to know where Ellen Calvert is today, what she is doing, how the world has been using her.

“Ellen Calvert’s father died. Her mother, Estelle, moved away, and rumor is that she remarried.

“What is the real story of Ellen Calvert? Is it the story of a beautiful woman whose beauty was such that she outgrew the small community in which she lived, outgrew her local friends, moved on into wider circles and achieved success? Or is it the story of a young woman who was dazzled by success, was led to believe the world was her oyster, and then was plunged into the depths of disappointment?

“Readers everywhere would be interested in getting the sequel to this interesting story of twenty years ago.”

Mason handed the newspaper clipping back to his client. “When,” he asked, “did you take the name of Ellen Adair?”

“When I disappeared.”

“Some of my questions,” Mason said, “have to be somewhat embarrassing. Was the father of your child named Adair?”

Her lips tightened. She shook her head. “There are certain things, Mr. Mason, we are not going into.”

“You feel that the newspaper can locate you?”

“Unfortunately, yes. If the newspaper starts digging, it will find that my mother married Henry Leland Berry, that after her death I showed up and identified myself as her daughter and claimed the money.

“You can imagine how I felt, Mr. Mason. I had been ashamed to keep in touch with my mother during the period when the knowledge of what had happened would have been a terrific blow to her and to the family pride.

“After her death it seemed selfish to appear and claim the money, but if I hadn’t it would have gone to the state because there were no other heirs.”

“And what you want is to kill this story. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

Mason said, “If I appear in the matter, the newspaper will naturally suppose that you are located somewhere in this vicinity.”