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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 90 из 149”
Eva Belter arched her eyebrows and picked up her glass from the table, muchwith the gesture of a woman gathering her skirts about her when encountering a beggar on the street.
Mason lifted off the ginger ale bottle and the bowl of ice, polished the top of the table with the moist cover which had been on it, and set it down in front of a chair for Della Street.
She pulled up the straightback chair, crossed her knees, put the notebook on the table, and poised her pencil.
Perry Mason dictated rapidly for twenty minutes. At the end of that time breakfast arrived. The three ate heartily and almost in silence. Eva Belter managed to give the impression that she was eating with the servants.
When the breakfast was finished, Mason had the things taken away, and proceeded with his dictation. By ninethirty he had finished.
“Go back to the office and write those up,” he told Della, “and have them all ready for signature. But don’t let anybody see what you’re doing. You’d better keep the outer office door locked. You can use the printed forms for the petitions.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’d like to see you for a moment alone.”
Eva Belter sniffed.
“Don’t mind her,” said Mason, “she’s going.”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” Eva Belter said.
“Yes, you are,” Mason ordered. “You’re going right now. I had to have you here while I was dictating those papers in order to get the information that I needed. You’re going back and put that will back in the house. Then you’re going up to my office this afternoon and sign all of these papers. And, in the meantime, you’re going to keep your own counsel. The newspaper reporters are going to ask you questions. They’ll get in touch with you somewhere along the line. You’re going to use all of your sex appeal and be shocked and crushed by the terrible misfortune you’ve suffered. You’re going to be unable to give out any kind of a coherent interview, and you’re going to sell them on your grief. Every time they stick a camera your way, show lots of leg and turn on the water works. Do you understand?”
“You’re coarse,” she said coldly.
“I’m effective,” he told her. “What the hell’s the use of you trying to slip a lot of stuff over on me when you know it doesn’t go?”
She put on her hat and coat with dignity and marched to the door.
“Just when I get so I really like you,” she told him, “you have to go ahead and spoil it all.”
He silently held the door open for her, bowed her out and then slammed it shut.
Eva Belter arched her eyebrows and picked up her glass from the table, muchwith the gesture of a woman gathering her skirts about her when encountering a beggar on the street.
Mason lifted off the ginger ale bottle and the bowl of ice, polished the top of the table with the moist cover which had been on it, and set it down in front of a chair for Della Street.
She pulled up the straightback chair, crossed her knees, put the notebook on the table, and poised her pencil.
Perry Mason dictated rapidly for twenty minutes. At the end of that time breakfast arrived. The three ate heartily and almost in silence. Eva Belter managed to give the impression that she was eating with the servants.
When the breakfast was finished, Mason had the things taken away, and proceeded with his dictation. By ninethirty he had finished.
“Go back to the office and write those up,” he told Della, “and have them all ready for signature. But don’t let anybody see what you’re doing. You’d better keep the outer office door locked. You can use the printed forms for the petitions.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’d like to see you for a moment alone.”
Eva Belter sniffed.
“Don’t mind her,” said Mason, “she’s going.”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” Eva Belter said.
“Yes, you are,” Mason ordered. “You’re going right now. I had to have you here while I was dictating those papers in order to get the information that I needed. You’re going back and put that will back in the house. Then you’re going up to my office this afternoon and sign all of these papers. And, in the meantime, you’re going to keep your own counsel. The newspaper reporters are going to ask you questions. They’ll get in touch with you somewhere along the line. You’re going to use all of your sex appeal and be shocked and crushed by the terrible misfortune you’ve suffered. You’re going to be unable to give out any kind of a coherent interview, and you’re going to sell them on your grief. Every time they stick a camera your way, show lots of leg and turn on the water works. Do you understand?”
“You’re coarse,” she said coldly.
“I’m effective,” he told her. “What the hell’s the use of you trying to slip a lot of stuff over on me when you know it doesn’t go?”
She put on her hat and coat with dignity and marched to the door.
“Just when I get so I really like you,” she told him, “you have to go ahead and spoil it all.”
He silently held the door open for her, bowed her out and then slammed it shut.