The Case of the Troubled Trustee pm-78 Read online

  Mason gave a low whistle. "Better get our client, Kerry Dutton, on the phone, Della."

  She nodded. "I looked up his number. I felt perhaps you'd want to call him."

  She picked up the instrument, said, "Give me an outside line, Gertie." And then her fingers flew over the dial.

  She held the phone for several seconds, then her eyebrows raised. She made a little gesture to Mason but she continued holding on for another ten seconds.

  At the end of that time, she dropped the telephone back into place.

  "No answer?" Mason asked.

  "No answer."

  Mason said, "Ring up my broker, Della. Tell him I want fifty shares of Steer Ridge Oil and Refining."

  Della Street put through the call, transmitted the order, then said, "He wants to talk with you personally, Chief."

  Mason nodded. "Put him on."

  The lawyer picked up the telephone on his desk and said, "Yes, Steve, what is it?"

  "You know something in particular or are you just playing a hunch on that paragraph in the paper this morning?"

  "Well, it's a little of both," Mason said. "Why?"

  "I don't know about that Steer Ridge stock," the broker said. "It's skyrocketed. Somebody apparently has been snapping up stock for the last few days and the thing has climbed sky high. It had been down to almost nothing."

  "What do you know about the company?" Mason asked.

  "Nothing much. It got along pretty well for a while; then the stockholders were reported to •be fighting among themselves. There may be a proxy battle. A fellow by the name of Jarvis Reader is president. He's a queer sort of a duck, apparently a wild-eyed gambler who committed the company to taking up all sorts of leases on territory that had lots of acreage and not very much else. Under his management the stock has been steadily declining for some time. Recently someone started trying to get proxies.

  "Now, whenever that happens in a low-priced stock the management tries to counter with news that will put the stock up in price. Hence a good reason for this paragraph in the paper; or they may really have a new field and the insiders have kept the news from the public so as to buy up stock; or it may be just a rumor.

  "I was wondering if you have any inside information."

  "Not me," Mason said. "I was hoping you had some."

  "I've told you mine."

  "Okay," Mason said, "buy me fifty shares at the market, regardless of what it costs. I want to be a stockholder in the company."

  "Okay, if you say so," the broker said. "But I'd advise you not to go overboard simply on the strength of that newspaper report. That security has been a dog. A lot of people who had held it for years have sold out during the last year and some of them have taken quite a loss."

  "Keep your eye on it," Mason said. "If there should be any really startling developments, let me know."

  The lawyer hung up the telephone, glanced at Della Street, and said, "I wonder how our client is feeling about now?"

  "That," Della Street said, "is a good question. Of course, he said he had the power to buy and sell, but the beneficiary thinks she has a block of that stock and that it's skyrocketing. On the strength of that feeling, she may be committing herself to all sorts of beatnik endowments."

  The telephone on Della Street 's desk rang.

  Della Street picked it up, said, "Yes, Gertie?" Then after a few moments, said, "Just a minute. Have him wait on the line."

  She turned to Perry Mason and said, "Fred Hedley is calling. He says that it's on a matter of the greatest importance and that he knows you will want to talk with him. He has some important information for you."

  Mason hesitated a moment, then nodded and picked up his phone.

  Della Street threw the switch which put both phones on the same line.

  Mason said, "Hello. Perry Mason speaking."

  Fred Hedley's voice was so excited that the words were all but telescoped together.

  "Mr. Mason. Mr. Mason. I've got some wonderful news. This is really something! Have you seen the financial page of the morning paper?"

  "What about it?" Mason asked.

  "They've struck it rich. Steer Ridge Oil and Refining has proved up a new territory and brought in a big gusher."

  Mason said, "This is Fred Hedley talking?"

  "That's right, Mr. Mason. You remember me. I was in your office with my mother and Desere Ellis. I'm the one that's establishing the foundation."

  "Oh, yes," Mason said. "What does the Steer Ridge Oil and Refining Company have to do with your foundation, Mr. Hedley?"

  "Everything in the world," Hedley said. "Some of the stock that's held in the trust for Desere Ellis is a big block of the Steer Ridge Oil and Refining. It's going up in value like a skyrocket."

  "Well, that's interesting," Mason said. "How do you know it's still in the trust?"

  "It has to be. That was the stock that Desere's father wanted Dutton to hang on to and sell only as a last resort."

  "Was it a condition of the trust?"

  "I don't know," Hedley said with a trace of irritation in his voice. "You should know. You're representing the guy."

  "I am not familiar with the terms of the trust as far as all of the securities are concerned," Mason said. "I gathered from what you have told me that you were, and I was just asking the question. You folks told me he had distributed all but about fifteen thousand dollars. That means he must have had to sell some of the securities."

  "Not the Steer Ridge," Hedley said confidently. "There's some sort of a proxy fight on, and a man called on Desere just a couple of weeks ago to get her proxies. She sent him to Dutton.

  "That stock is going up like a rocket. It'll be worth thousands, hundreds of thousands!"

  Mason said, "I fail to see just what difference all this makes-to you."

  "This simply means there will now be adequate funds for us to carry out the work we want. Desere can give me the financial backing and I'll go to work on that endowment. It's going to be one of the biggest things in the whole world of creative art, Mr. Mason.

  "Don't you understand what it's going to mean? My Lord, here are potential geniuses starving to death and being forced into some kind of a commercial treadmill occupation simply because they can't hang on until an unappreciative society recognizes their talent.

  "We're going to create future Rembrandts. That is, they won't be stuffy like Rembrandt-they'll be truly creative in every sense of the word. We're going to develop writing geniuses. We're going to develop poets. We're going to emancipate American art and talent."

  "Have you told Desere about this new development?" Mason asked.

  "I haven't been able to get her thus far, but I certainly hope I can be the first to tell her. This was the day she started school, you know-business school."

  "I see," Mason said. "Well, thank you very much for calling."

  "Can you tell me where I can get in touch with Kerry Dutton?" Hedley asked.

  "No," Mason said.

  "I should talk with him right away in case he doesn't know about developments."

  "You don't have his address?"

  "I wasn't interested enough to ever ask for his address. Frankly, Mason, I think your client is a square, and I think he handled that trust like a fool."

  "How should he have handled it?" Mason asked.

  "He should have conserved the assets so there'd be enough money for Desere to do something that would really make a mark. Why, if he'd been careful and held her down to earth on expenses, she could have lived on just the income from the securities, and the principal could have been intact for something of this sort."

  "All right," Mason said. "Thank you for calling but I'm not permitted to give out my client's address. I think the proper procedure would be for you to call Miss Ellis, have Miss Ellis call Dutton, and Dutton call me."

  "All right," Hedley said, "if that's the way you want it. I was just trying to do you a favor."

  "I appreciate your interest," Mason said. "Good-by." And the la
wyer hung up.

  Della Street, who had been monitoring the conversation and taking shorthand notes, looked up from her book and said, "Well, that's that. The fat seems to be in the fire."

  Mason said, "Hang it, you have to sympathize with Dutton's viewpoint despite the fact it's irregular. However, if it comes to a showdown on a strict legal basis, we can probably keep him in the clear.

  "He had every right on earth to sell any securities that he wanted to and invest the money in other securities. He didn't have any right to mislead his beneficiary and he should have made accountings. He had no right to mingle his own funds with those of the trust. Somehow I have an idea that when Mrs. Hedley finds out about all this and finds out that the stock in the Steer Ridge Oil and Refining Company was sold a year ago, there's going to be a fine, large mix-up and I am going to be right in the middle of it."

  "That," Della Street said, "seems to me to be the understatement of the week. What are we going to tell Desere?"

  "The same thing we tell everybody," Mason said. "We are representing Dutton. We are not representing anyone else. We can give out no information. Let them get in touch with Dutton, and Dutton, in turn, will get in touch with me."

  "When this news gets to him," Della Street said, "he'll- Well, he may take to the tall timber."

  "How do you know he isn't there now?" Mason asked.

  She looked at the lawyer for a long, thoughtful moment and then said, "That's right. We don't."

  Chapter Four

  Shortly after lunch Mason said, "Della, write out Kerry Dutton's name, address and telephone number on a card, will you please? And call Paul Drake at the Drake Detective Agency. Ask him if he can come in for a minute.

  "Also, ring up my broker and make certain I am now a stockholder in the Steer Ridge Oil and Refining Company."

  "If there's anything going on behind the scenes with inside information," Della Street said, "the insiders certainly had a wonderful opportunity for stock manipulation.''

  Mason said with a smile, "That's why I chose to become a stockholder, Della. As a stockholder of record, I'm entitled to protect my interests."

  Della Street typed out the card with Dutton's address and telehone number; called the Drake Detective Agency, which was on the same floor with Mason; and a few moments later, Paul Drake's code knock sounded on the door of Mason's private office.

  Paul Drake, head of the Drake Detective Agency, as tall as Perry Mason, broad-shouldered and goodlooking, tried always to minimize his appearance.

  He dressed in quiet clothes; always drove a car that was three to five years old-one of the more popular makes; and tried by every means to be self-effacing.

  "Hi, beautiful," he said to Della; nodded to Perry; slid into the overstuffed, leather chair for clients and settled himself for a cigarette. "Shoot," he said.

  "Paul," Mason told him, "this is on me. I want you to find a client. I am footing the bill."

  "Client skipped out?" Drake asked.

  "Could be."

  "Owing you money?"

  "No."

  "Witness to something you want hushed up?"

  "No."

  "Witness to something in favor of one of your clients and you want his testimony?"

  "No."

  "What then?"

  "Can't tell you," Mason said.

  "Think he skipped out?"

  "He could have."

  "What do I tell him if I find him?"

  "Nothing. Just let me know where he is."

  "And I take it I'm not supposed to leave any back trail?"

  "Try not to leave any back trail that leads back to me," Mason said. "Otherwise, you can go as far as you want. I realize that if you're going to get a guy located fast you can't go and ask questions without leaving some sort of a back trail. We'll have to take a chance on that."

  "Starting now?" Drake asked.

  "Yes," Mason said, handing Drake the typed card.

  "You're in a hurry?"

  "Yes. However, I have one other thing. This is something you should be able to get a routine check on. I want to find out something about Jarvis Reader, president of the Steer Ridge Oil and Refining Company."

  "There was an article about them in the paper," Drake said. "Seems they struck it rich."

  "You read that article, too?"

  "Uh-huh. You can't believe too much of what you hear in deals of that sort, but I understand the stock is going up out of sight."

  "You don't have any, do you, Paul?"

  "Detectives don't get rich buying and selling stock, They don't get rich, period."

  "Okay," Mason told him. "On your way, and let's see what you can turn up. Keep me posted."

  Less than fifteen minutes after Paul Drake had left the office, the telephone on Della Street 's desk rang, and Della Street, answering it, said, "All right, tell him to sit down a moment, Gertie. I'll see if Mr. Mason can see him."

  Della Street turned from her telephone. "Speaking of angels," she said, "Jarvis Reader is in the outer office."

  "He wants to see me?" Mason asked.

  She nodded.

  "Go bring him in, Della."

  Della Street said, "Tell him Mr. Mason will see him, Gertie. I'm on my way out to get him."

  Della Street left the office to return a moment later with a powerful, somewhat stoop-shouldered man in his middle fifties. He had a weather-beaten face, bushy eyebrows, piercing gray eyes, and a belligerent manner.

  "Hello," he said. "You're Mason?"

  Mason grinned. "You're Reader?"

  "Right."

  "What can I do for you?"

  Reader said, "You're representing Kerry Dutton, I understand."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Never mind. I want a straight answer. Are you or are you not representing Kerry Dutton?"

  "Mr. Dutton has retained me to represent him in one matter. Yes."

  "In one matter?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, there are going to be several matters."

  "Such as what?"

  "I have learned," Reader said, "that Dutton made statements that I was crooked; that my management of the company was manipulated for my own purposes; that I didn't know straight up about oil; that I was primarily interested in bilking people into investing in stock so I could keep myself in power as the head of the company at a darn good salary."

  "When did you hear all this?" Mason asked.

  "Some time ago, but I haven't done anything about it because I wanted to wait until I could prove what a liar Dutton was.

  "Now then, my management has been vindicated, and I'll bet Dijtton wishes he had the twenty thousand shares of stock he sold a while ago."

  "Sold it?" Mason asked, inquiringly.

  "That's right. That's when he made the statements. He was reportel to have sold the stock to a purchaser and warned hir1 that it probably wasn't any good; that I didn't know s raight up about the oil business; that I was just working a flimflam getting a lot of sterile acreage tied up So I could make a big showing to people who knew nothing about the oil business and keep drawing a nice salary, having an expense account, a private airplane ard all tLat sort of stuff."

  "If," Mason said, "you're really intending to sue my client, you shouldn't oe talking with me, and I certainly am not going tJ talk with you. You can get an attorney and have him (all Oil me if there's anything you want to adjust…"

  "I don't need attorney," Reader said. "Not right away. I'm not to sue. I'm not here to threaten. I'm simply here to tell Dutton that I will accept an apology-a public apology which I can print in the papers."

  "Why don't you tell him?" Mason asked.

  "Can't find him. He's hard to catch."

  "You've tried?"

  "I've tried… I wanted to be the first to tell him about our oil strike before he read it in the papers. I couldn't find him. Then the news was released on the radio and the papers picked it up. Now he's heard all about it and I'm the last person in the world he wants to see."
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  Mason said, "Just as a matter of curiosity and not talking about any claims you may have against Mr. Dutton because I don't care to discuss them, you folks were friendly at one time?"

  "Friends!" Reader exclaimed, drawing a forefinger across his throat. "Oh, yes, we're friends. That guy has done everything he could to make it tough for me."

  "What I meant was that you knew him?"

  "Hell yes, I knew him."

  "And have for some time?"

  "Ever since he became trustee under that will. I went to him and wanted him to invest more money in Steer Ridge Oil. He laughed at me. I'll bet he wishes now he'd followed my advice. That trust would have been worth a lot of money today.

  "I was friendly with Templeton Ellis. He had faith in me. He was one of my first backers. He put money into Steer Ridge on four different occasions; left a tidy block of stock, and just because it started going down in value, that smart-aleck trustee sold it out. Not only sold it out, but shot off his big mouth that the management was crooked; that no one in the company knew anything about the oil business and that I was getting leases on land that nobody else would touch with a tenfoot pole."

  Reader paused for a moment, then went on, "Now, there's something else you'd better know about if you're getting yourself tied up with Dutton: The beneficiary of that trust thinks he still has the twenty thousand shares of Steer Ridge stock in the trust. She doesn't know he sold her out."

  "What makes you think that?" Mason asked.

  "I don't think, I know. I'll tell you something else. Dutton will be frantically trying to buy that stock back. He's willing to pay almost any price for it. I'm personally going to see he can't get it back.

  "When you see him, tell him that I know everything he's doing. And tell him that his stool pigeon, Rodger Palmer, who's trying to pick up stock and proxies, isn't going to get to first base.

  "I've forgotten more about corporate management of oil properties than these birds ever knew… Tell Mr. Kerry Dutton that whenever he's ready to buy a page ad in the daily papers apologizing to me, I'll think about letting him off the hook. Until that time, he can fry in his own grease."