JК
The Case of the Caretakers Cat :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 11 из 146If there's anything in reincarnation, he must have been a Chinese laundryman in a prior existence. Every time he snickers, he sprays his audience, like a Chinese laundryman sprinkling clothes. He has a fondness for shaking hands. Personally I don't like him, but you can't insult him. I suppose the situation calls for some show of professional courtesy; but, if he tries to slip anything over on me, I'm going to forget the ethics of the situation and kick him out."
"The cat," she said, "must feel flattered—so many busy attorneys putting in their time deciding whether he's going to get his muddy feet on a bedspread."
Perry Mason laughed outright. "Go ahead," he said, "rub it in! Oh, well, I'm in for it now. Shuster will try to egg his clients into a fight, and I'll either have to back up or play into his hands. If I back up, he makes his clients believe he's browbeaten me into submission, and charges them a good fee. If I don't back up, he tells them their whole inheritance is involved and soaks them a percentage. That's what I get for running that bluff about a forfeiture of the inheritance."
"Mr. Jackson could talk with them," she suggested.
Perry Mason grinned goodnaturedly. "Nope, Jackson isn't accustomed to having his face sprinkled. I've met Shuster before. Let's get them in."
He lifted the telephone, said to the girl at the desk, "Send Mr. Shuster in."
Della Street made one last appeal, "Oh, please, Chief, let Jackson handle it. You'll get into an argument, and the first thing we'll know, you'll be putting in all of your time fighting over a cat."
"Cats and corpses," Mason remarked. "If it isn't one it seems to be another. I've been fighting over corpses for so long, a good live cat will be a welcome diversion from…"
The door opened. A blonde with wide blue eyes said in a lifeless voice, "Mr. Shuster, Mr. Laxter, Mr. Oafley."
The three men pushed the doorway into the room. Shuster, smallboned and active, was in the lead, bustling about like a sparrow peering under dead leaves. "Good morning, Counselor, good morning, good morning. Going to be warm today, isn't it?" He bustled across the room, hand outstretched. His lips twisted back, disclosing a mouthful of teeth, between each of which was a welldefined space.
Mason, seeming to tower high above the little man, extended a reluctant hand and said, "Now let's get these people straight. Which is Laxter and which is Oafley?"
"Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course," Shuster said. "This is Mr. Laxter—Mr. Samuel C. Laxter. He's the executor of the will—a grandson of Peter Laxter.
"The cat," she said, "must feel flattered—so many busy attorneys putting in their time deciding whether he's going to get his muddy feet on a bedspread."
Perry Mason laughed outright. "Go ahead," he said, "rub it in! Oh, well, I'm in for it now. Shuster will try to egg his clients into a fight, and I'll either have to back up or play into his hands. If I back up, he makes his clients believe he's browbeaten me into submission, and charges them a good fee. If I don't back up, he tells them their whole inheritance is involved and soaks them a percentage. That's what I get for running that bluff about a forfeiture of the inheritance."
"Mr. Jackson could talk with them," she suggested.
Perry Mason grinned goodnaturedly. "Nope, Jackson isn't accustomed to having his face sprinkled. I've met Shuster before. Let's get them in."
He lifted the telephone, said to the girl at the desk, "Send Mr. Shuster in."
Della Street made one last appeal, "Oh, please, Chief, let Jackson handle it. You'll get into an argument, and the first thing we'll know, you'll be putting in all of your time fighting over a cat."
"Cats and corpses," Mason remarked. "If it isn't one it seems to be another. I've been fighting over corpses for so long, a good live cat will be a welcome diversion from…"
The door opened. A blonde with wide blue eyes said in a lifeless voice, "Mr. Shuster, Mr. Laxter, Mr. Oafley."
The three men pushed the doorway into the room. Shuster, smallboned and active, was in the lead, bustling about like a sparrow peering under dead leaves. "Good morning, Counselor, good morning, good morning. Going to be warm today, isn't it?" He bustled across the room, hand outstretched. His lips twisted back, disclosing a mouthful of teeth, between each of which was a welldefined space.
Mason, seeming to tower high above the little man, extended a reluctant hand and said, "Now let's get these people straight. Which is Laxter and which is Oafley?"
"Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course," Shuster said. "This is Mr. Laxter—Mr. Samuel C. Laxter. He's the executor of the will—a grandson of Peter Laxter.