if I had any objections to his taking a quick look in my suitcase because there had been some trouble. Since my baggage had been delayed coming off the plane, I thought that was what he referred to."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him what was in the suitcase and that it was all right for him to look."
"Can you remember anything more about the conversation?"
"Yes. He asked me first if that was my suitcase, and I told him it was, and he asked me if I could establish my ownership by identifying the contents. Then I described the contents, and he asked if it was all right to check."
Mason frowned thoughtfully, then said, almost casually, "Your baggage, that is, the two pieces together weighed more than forty pounds?"
"Yes. They weighed forty-six pounds taken together, and I paid excess baggage on the six pounds."
"I see," Mason said thoughtfully. "You're going to have to exercise a lot of self-control, and you're in for a disagreeable experience, but perhaps we can work things out one way or another."
"What I can't understand," she said, "is where the stuff came from and how it could have been placed in my suitcase. Of course, it was late coming off the plane, but one wouldn't think anyone could tamper with it out there on the field going from the plane to the baggage counter."
"There were several places it could have been tampered with," Mason said. "After you checked the suitcase and before it was put on the plane, someone could have opened it.
"We don't know where it was stored aboard the plane in the baggage compartment. We don't know whether anyone could have tampered with it in there.
"Then, of course, when it was taken off the plane, there was this delay. That means that the suitcase was probably placed on the ground, waiting for another truck to come along to pick it up. Now, the way those planes are built, the baggage comes out on the other side from the side which has the passenger entrance. While the suitcase was there on the ground, it wouldn't have been too difficult for someone to have opened it and inserted these packages of narcotics."
"But why?" she asked.
"There," Mason said, "is the rub. Presumably someone was trafficking in narcotics. He knew there'd been a tip-off and his baggage was going to be searched, so he put the contraband in your suitcase and then had an accomplice telephone the police that the stuff would be in the suitcase of one Virginia Baxter. He must have been able to describe you, because the officer who was standing there waiting for you to claim your baggage evidently had a good description of you and had you spotted from the time he saw you come down the escalator."
Mason was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "How about your name? How did you have your suitcase marked? Was there an initial or a name painted on it, or what?"
"There's a leather baggage tag," she said, "one that straps around the ring at the handle, and it had my name typed on it, my name and address: 422 Eureka Arms Apartments."
"All right," Mason said, "we'll get you out on bail. I'm going to try and have you brought up on a preliminary hearing just as soon as possible. At least we'll make the police show their hand.
"I'm satisfied it's all some sort of a mistake and we may be able to get it cleaned up without much trouble, but you're going to have to put up with a lot of things."
"Tell me," she asked apprehensively, "there was a photographer there. Will there be anything in the newspapers about it?"
"A photographer?" Mason asked.
She nodded.
Mason said grimly, "Then the thing is a lot more sinister than I had at first supposed. It isn't just a simple mistake. Yes, it will be in the newspapers."
"My name, address, everything?"
"Name, address and photograph," Mason said. "Prepare yourself for a picture showing the startled expression on your face and a caption such as: EX-LEGAL SECRETARY ACCUSED IN NARCOTICS CHARGE."
"But how could the newspaper have had a photographer there?"
"That's just the
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him what was in the suitcase and that it was all right for him to look."
"Can you remember anything more about the conversation?"
"Yes. He asked me first if that was my suitcase, and I told him it was, and he asked me if I could establish my ownership by identifying the contents. Then I described the contents, and he asked if it was all right to check."
Mason frowned thoughtfully, then said, almost casually, "Your baggage, that is, the two pieces together weighed more than forty pounds?"
"Yes. They weighed forty-six pounds taken together, and I paid excess baggage on the six pounds."
"I see," Mason said thoughtfully. "You're going to have to exercise a lot of self-control, and you're in for a disagreeable experience, but perhaps we can work things out one way or another."
"What I can't understand," she said, "is where the stuff came from and how it could have been placed in my suitcase. Of course, it was late coming off the plane, but one wouldn't think anyone could tamper with it out there on the field going from the plane to the baggage counter."
"There were several places it could have been tampered with," Mason said. "After you checked the suitcase and before it was put on the plane, someone could have opened it.
"We don't know where it was stored aboard the plane in the baggage compartment. We don't know whether anyone could have tampered with it in there.
"Then, of course, when it was taken off the plane, there was this delay. That means that the suitcase was probably placed on the ground, waiting for another truck to come along to pick it up. Now, the way those planes are built, the baggage comes out on the other side from the side which has the passenger entrance. While the suitcase was there on the ground, it wouldn't have been too difficult for someone to have opened it and inserted these packages of narcotics."
"But why?" she asked.
"There," Mason said, "is the rub. Presumably someone was trafficking in narcotics. He knew there'd been a tip-off and his baggage was going to be searched, so he put the contraband in your suitcase and then had an accomplice telephone the police that the stuff would be in the suitcase of one Virginia Baxter. He must have been able to describe you, because the officer who was standing there waiting for you to claim your baggage evidently had a good description of you and had you spotted from the time he saw you come down the escalator."
Mason was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "How about your name? How did you have your suitcase marked? Was there an initial or a name painted on it, or what?"
"There's a leather baggage tag," she said, "one that straps around the ring at the handle, and it had my name typed on it, my name and address: 422 Eureka Arms Apartments."
"All right," Mason said, "we'll get you out on bail. I'm going to try and have you brought up on a preliminary hearing just as soon as possible. At least we'll make the police show their hand.
"I'm satisfied it's all some sort of a mistake and we may be able to get it cleaned up without much trouble, but you're going to have to put up with a lot of things."
"Tell me," she asked apprehensively, "there was a photographer there. Will there be anything in the newspapers about it?"
"A photographer?" Mason asked.
She nodded.
Mason said grimly, "Then the thing is a lot more sinister than I had at first supposed. It isn't just a simple mistake. Yes, it will be in the newspapers."
"My name, address, everything?"
"Name, address and photograph," Mason said. "Prepare yourself for a picture showing the startled expression on your face and a caption such as: EX-LEGAL SECRETARY ACCUSED IN NARCOTICS CHARGE."
"But how could the newspaper have had a photographer there?"
"That's just the
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