The Case of the Mischievous Doll

“Well, if you ask me,” Minerva Minden said, “this girl is a complete phoney, a fraud, an adventuress who has been trying to lay a foundation to present a claim against my uncle’s estate.

“If she were on the square, she’d have come right out in so many words and made her claim. She’d have gone to the probate court and said she was a relative of Harper Minden and therefore was entitled to a share of the estate.”

“Evidently,” Tragg said, “she knew nothing about her rights as a potential heiress.”

“Phooey!” Miss Minden said. “She’s already tried to shake me down for a settlement. That’s what started this whole thing. Then she got plastered, clobbered a pedestrian and suddenly decided she’d kill two birds with one stone, getting me involved in a lot of publicity and — I’m not going to sit here and argue. I’m going to get up and walk out of here. If you want me for anything in the future, you can come out with a warrant for my arrest, and not ask for me to please come to Headquarters to help clarify things — and then run Perry Mason in on me.

“Now then, is this interview going to be kept confidential or not?”

“I’m afraid,” Lt. Tragg said, “that in matters which are subject to police investigation, we are not in a position to withhold facts from the public.”

“And I presume,” Mason said, “that you wanted to get a spontaneous identification from Miss Street and from me and for that reason you carefully arranged this so that we would walk in on Miss Minden and you would be in a position to hear our remarks.”

“He wasn’t in the room at the time,” Minerva Minden said.

Mason smiled. “I am afraid you underestimate the police intelligence, Miss Minden. I take it, Lieutenant, that the room is bugged.”

“Sure, it’s bugged,” Tragg said. “And you’re quite right. I wanted to see your reaction when you first entered the room. Now, I take it there is a very strong resemblance between these two women, Dorrie Ambler and Minerva Minden.”

“I don’t think that I care to add anything to my comments at this time,” Mason said. “I somewhat resent being dragged down here to make an identification for you.”

“Oh, you weren’t dragged,” Tragg said. “You came of your own volition and you got something that you wanted very much — an opportunity to talk with Minerva Minden.”

“In other words you baited the trap with something that you thought I would fall for,” Mason said.

“Of course, of course.” Tragg beamed. “We wouldn’t bait a mouse trap with catnip and we wouldn’t bait a cat trap with cheese.”

“I feel that I have been betrayed all the way along the line and that the police have abused their power,” Minerva Minden said. She turned to Perry Mason. “I wish you would agree to represent me, Mr. Mason — not on anything in connection with the estate, just this.”

Mason shook his head. “I’m afraid there would be a conflict of interests.”

“Are you going to represent Dorrie Ambler in a claim against the estate?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked with her about that.”

Lt. Tragg said, “Of course, Perry, I can begin to put two and two together now and I’d like very, very much to have you tell us the conversation you had with Miss Ambler. I think it might give us some clues— And what about the appendicitis scar?”

“I’m sorry,” Mason said firmly, “I don’t feel that I’m in a position to make any disclosures.”

“All right,” Tragg said, smiling, “school’s dismissed. Police cars are waiting to return you to your respective destinations.”

Minerva Minden stalked toward the door, suddenly whirled, came over to Perry Mason and extended her hand. “I like you,” she said.

“Thank you,” Mason said.

“You won’t reconsider about being my attorney?”

“No.”

Minerva smiled at Della Street, turned her back on Tragg and left the room.

“That was rather rough,” Mason said to Tragg.

“It was, for a fact,” Tragg said, “but I had to find out for sure about the extent of the resemblance.”

“You’re now satisfied that there’s a strong resemblance?” Mason asked.

“I’m satisfied it’s a striking resemblance,” Tragg said. “I notice that Della Street was watching her like a hawk. What did you think, Della?”

“Her hair isn’t quite the same colour,” Della Street said. “She doesn’t use the same make-up, the tinting of the nails is different and... oh, there are quite a few little things that a woman would notice, but I can tell you the physical resemblance is really startling. The voices are the big difference. Dorrie Ambler talks rapidly and in a high-pitched voice.”

“Well, thanks a lot,” Tragg said. “I had to do it that way, Perry, because you wouldn’t co-operate otherwise. The car will take you back to your office.”

Chapter Eight

Mason and Della dropped in at Paul Drake’s office on the way back from Police Headquarters.

“Got a crying towel handy, Paul?” Mason asked.

“I always keep one in the upper right-hand drawer,” Drake said.

“Get it out,” Mason told him, “because you’ve lost a lucrative job.”

“How come?”