The Case of the Troubled Trustee by Erle Stanley Gardner

helping Della from the car.
    The two of them walked toward the office of the auto court, then paused and looked back toward the car. Mason caught the eye of the man who was sauntering down the street.
    The man winked at Mason, put a cigarette in his mouth, fumbled through his pockets and said, "Pardon me, could you let me have a match?"
    "I can do better than that," Mason said. "I have a Zippo lighter."
    The lawyer snapped the lighter into flame, held it toward the man with the cigarette.
    "In Unit nineteen," the detective said. "He hasn't been out, unless he sneaked out while I was telephoning a report to Los Angeles.
    "That's his car over there, the Chevvy with the license number, OAC seven, seven, seven."
    "Okay," Mason said, "we're going in and talk with him. Keep an eye on things. I may want you as a witness… How are you feeling? Pretty well bushed?"
    "Staying awake is the hardest part of a job like this, Mr. Mason. I was up all night and sitting here in the car where it's warm, I kept wanting to take forty winks. If I had, I'd be apt to wake up and find the bird had flown the coop."
    Mason said, "You can either check out within the next thirty minutes, or we'll have a relief for you. Paul Drake got in touch with a relief operative in San Diego this morning and he's on his way down."
    "That'Il help," the detective said. "I'm not complaining, I'm just trying to stay awake and sometimes that's just about the hardest job a man can have."
    "Okay," Mason told him, "we're going in."
    The lawyer nodded to Della Street.
    A long driveway led to the office; then down to a parking place by the cabins. Palm trees and banana trees shaded the units of the court.
    Mason, ignoring the sign which said Office, guided Della to the unit occupied by Kerry Dutton.
    The lawyer turned to his secretary and said, "When I knock on the door, say, 'Towels.'"
    The lawyer knocked.
    A moment later, Della Street said, "Towels."
    "Come in," a man's voice called, and a hand on the inside turned the knob on the door.
    Mason pushed his way into the room, followed by Della Street.
    Kerry Dutton stared at them in speechless amazement.
    Mason said, "When I'm representing a person, I like to do a good job, and in order to do a good job I have to have the realfacts. I thought perhaps you could tell me a little more about your problem."
    Dutton's eyes went from one to the other.
    Mason moved over to a chair; held it for Della, then seated himself in the other chair, leaving the bed for Dutton.
    Dutton's legs took him over to the bed and seemed to give way as he settled down on the counterpane.
    "Well?" Mason asked.
    Dutton shook his head.
    "What's the trouble?" Mason asked.
    "It isn't what you think," Dutton said.
    "How much of what you told me was untrue?"
    "What I told you was generally true," Dutton said. "It was the things I didn't tell you that-oh, what's the use?"
    "There isn't any," Mason assured him. "That is, no use in trying to hold out on your lawyer. Sooner or later the facts will come to light, and if your lawyer doesn't know what they're going to be in advance, he's pretty apt to be caught at a disadvantage."
    Dutton simply shook his head.
    "Now then," Mason went on, "no matter how legal your actions may have been in the first place, you weakened your position by resorting to flight. In California, flight is considered evidence of guilt, and a prosecutor is permitted to introduce that evidence in a criminal trial."
    Dutton started to say something.
    There was a knock on the door.
    Dutton looked at Mason, then at Della Street, apprehension on his face.
    "Expecting visitors?" Mason asked.
    Dutton got up from the bed, started for the door, stopped.
    The knock was repeated, this time in a more peremptory manner.
    "Better see who it is," Mason said.
    Dutton opened the door.
    Two men came in, one in the uniform of a police officer; one in plain clothes.
    The man in plain clothes sized up the occupants of the room, bowed, and said, "The sefiorita, I hope,