The Case of the Singing Skirt by Erle Stanley Gardner Page B
Authors: Erle Stanley Gardner
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sorry we had to keep you waiting, Miss Robb," he said.
"It's all right."
"Is Ellen Robb your true name or a professional name?"
"Let's put it this way, Mr. Mason, Ellen Robb is as near my real name as you or anyone else will ever know. The man I was once married to has become a big businessman now. I wouldn't drag his name into… into the sort of work I'm doing."
"Where were you intending to go?" Mason asked, absently lighting a cigarette.
"I want to take a bus to Arizona. I have an offer of a job at Phoenix. A girl that I know has the photographic concession in a night club, and there's an opening for a girl to sell cigars, cigarettes and double as a hat-check girl. But what do I do about the gun?"
Mason reached in his left pocket, took out the gun he had placed there, weighed it in his hand as though debating what was to be done with the weapon. "I don't like to have you turn it in to the police," he said. "It seems to me that… well, I don't know… after all, we don't want to borrow trouble."
The lawyer pushed the gun toward her and said, "Perhaps you'd better keep it, Ellen. Remember that you showed it to us and told us about it."
"Shall I keep it in my purse?"
"Heavens no. You don't have a permit," Mason said. "Put it back in your bag where you found it."
"And what shall I do with it?"
"Keep it for evidence," Mason told her. "You have no idea how it got in your bag?"
"No idea whatever."
"Well, you've done everything you can. I'm going to file suit against Anclitas. Where are you staying?"
"Unit 19, the Surf and Sea Motel at Costa Mesa."
"Go back to your motel. I want to know where you are at all times. If you leave there, let me know."
"If you're going to file a suit, you'll want some more money," she said. "This is-"
Mason shook his head. "No more money. Not unless something else turns up. We're all fixed. Save your money until I ask for it.
"Go back to the motel and wait. By the way, what about Heiman Ellis? Was he there when you and George were having this altercation?"
"No."
"You said you had heard he and his wife were going on a cruise. Do you know if they actually went?"
"I don't know. Helly was in The Big Barn last night before the altercation with George. He said his wife had marooned him aboard the yacht. They'd had a fight."
"Keep in touch with me," Mason said. "I want to know right where I can reach you."
She impulsively gave him her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Mason," she said. "I'll never forget this."
"I probably won't myself," Mason said.
Della Street ushered her to the door, shook hands with her, returned to the office.
"Did you switch guns?" she asked.
"I switched guns," Mason said.
"And she has no idea?"
"I hope not," Mason said. "I hope I wasn't crude- Just where did that gun I gave her come from, Della? What about it?"
"According to our records," Della Street said, "that gun is a.38 Smith & Wesson Special with the number 133347. You may remember that when George Spencer Ranger came to us and wanted you to represent him, you asked him if he carried a gun. He said he always carried one, that he didn't have a permit because he didn't need one, that he'd been appointed a deputy sheriff in Arizona. You 'told him that he'd better leave the gun with us. This is the gun that he gave us."
"All right," Mason said. "Give this other gun to Paul Drake. Tell him to first trace the registration, then take it to Maurice Haistead, the ballistics expert who does his work. Tell Haistead to fire some test bullets through it and save the bullets. Then bring the gun back here. You can lock it in the safe.
"Then, when George Anclitas swears to a complaint charging Ellen Robb with stealing one of his guns, gets a search warrant and finds a gun in her baggage, he'll naturally assume his little scheme is working perfectly."
"Then you'll jerk the rug out from under him?" Della asked.
"Then I'll jerk the rug."
"But what about this gun that was planted in Ellen Robb's baggage?"
Mason grinned. "If
"It's all right."
"Is Ellen Robb your true name or a professional name?"
"Let's put it this way, Mr. Mason, Ellen Robb is as near my real name as you or anyone else will ever know. The man I was once married to has become a big businessman now. I wouldn't drag his name into… into the sort of work I'm doing."
"Where were you intending to go?" Mason asked, absently lighting a cigarette.
"I want to take a bus to Arizona. I have an offer of a job at Phoenix. A girl that I know has the photographic concession in a night club, and there's an opening for a girl to sell cigars, cigarettes and double as a hat-check girl. But what do I do about the gun?"
Mason reached in his left pocket, took out the gun he had placed there, weighed it in his hand as though debating what was to be done with the weapon. "I don't like to have you turn it in to the police," he said. "It seems to me that… well, I don't know… after all, we don't want to borrow trouble."
The lawyer pushed the gun toward her and said, "Perhaps you'd better keep it, Ellen. Remember that you showed it to us and told us about it."
"Shall I keep it in my purse?"
"Heavens no. You don't have a permit," Mason said. "Put it back in your bag where you found it."
"And what shall I do with it?"
"Keep it for evidence," Mason told her. "You have no idea how it got in your bag?"
"No idea whatever."
"Well, you've done everything you can. I'm going to file suit against Anclitas. Where are you staying?"
"Unit 19, the Surf and Sea Motel at Costa Mesa."
"Go back to your motel. I want to know where you are at all times. If you leave there, let me know."
"If you're going to file a suit, you'll want some more money," she said. "This is-"
Mason shook his head. "No more money. Not unless something else turns up. We're all fixed. Save your money until I ask for it.
"Go back to the motel and wait. By the way, what about Heiman Ellis? Was he there when you and George were having this altercation?"
"No."
"You said you had heard he and his wife were going on a cruise. Do you know if they actually went?"
"I don't know. Helly was in The Big Barn last night before the altercation with George. He said his wife had marooned him aboard the yacht. They'd had a fight."
"Keep in touch with me," Mason said. "I want to know right where I can reach you."
She impulsively gave him her hand. "Thank you, Mr. Mason," she said. "I'll never forget this."
"I probably won't myself," Mason said.
Della Street ushered her to the door, shook hands with her, returned to the office.
"Did you switch guns?" she asked.
"I switched guns," Mason said.
"And she has no idea?"
"I hope not," Mason said. "I hope I wasn't crude- Just where did that gun I gave her come from, Della? What about it?"
"According to our records," Della Street said, "that gun is a.38 Smith & Wesson Special with the number 133347. You may remember that when George Spencer Ranger came to us and wanted you to represent him, you asked him if he carried a gun. He said he always carried one, that he didn't have a permit because he didn't need one, that he'd been appointed a deputy sheriff in Arizona. You 'told him that he'd better leave the gun with us. This is the gun that he gave us."
"All right," Mason said. "Give this other gun to Paul Drake. Tell him to first trace the registration, then take it to Maurice Haistead, the ballistics expert who does his work. Tell Haistead to fire some test bullets through it and save the bullets. Then bring the gun back here. You can lock it in the safe.
"Then, when George Anclitas swears to a complaint charging Ellen Robb with stealing one of his guns, gets a search warrant and finds a gun in her baggage, he'll naturally assume his little scheme is working perfectly."
"Then you'll jerk the rug out from under him?" Della asked.
"Then I'll jerk the rug."
"But what about this gun that was planted in Ellen Robb's baggage?"
Mason grinned. "If
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