of a popular song, then stopped and said, "My throat's always a little thick in the morning-I love to sing-I like melody, always have, but singing in rooms filled with stale tobacco smoke is hard on the throat."
Mason nodded, studied the young woman's face.
"You've had ups and downs?" he asked.
"Mostly downs," she said, "but I'm in there fighting. I think I'll go back to modeling. I can get by doing that-only there's no future in it."
"How does George Anclitas stand in Rowena?" Mason asked.
"It depends on whom you ask. He owns the justice of the peace and he has something on Miles Overton, the chief of police. As far as official circles are concerned, George stands ace high. Some of the citizens don't like him but they all kowtow to him. He's powerful."
"I think," Mason said, "we're going to interrupt a somewhat busy day to call on George Anclitas. You don't happen to know his telephone number, do you?"
"Rowena 6-9481."
Mason nodded to Della Street. "Get George on the phone, Della. Let's see what he has to say."
A few moments later Della Street, who had been busy at the dial of the telephone, nodded to Perry Mason.
Mason picked up the receiver. "George Anclitas?" he asked.
"Sure," the voice at the other end of the line said. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm Perry Mason. I'm a lawyer."
"All right. What does a lawyer want with George?"
"I want to talk with you."
"What about?"
"About an employee."
"Who?"
"Ellen Robb, a singer."
"That tramp. What about her?"
"I'm coming out to see you," Mason said. "It will take me about half an hour to get there. Miss Robb will be with me. I want all of her personal possessions, I want all of the money that she has coming to her, and I'll talk with you about the rest of it."
"All right," George said. "Now I'll tell you something. You bring Ellen Robb out here, and she gets arrested quick. If she wants to spend the next sixty days in the clink, this is the place for her. Tell her I've got the reception committee all ready."
"Very well," Mason said, "and since you're planning a reception committee, you might go to the bank and draw out ten thousand dollars."
"Ten thousand dollars! What are you talking about?"
"I am about to file suit on her behalf for defamation of character, for slanderous remarks and false accusation. If you have ten thousand dollars available in cash, I might advise Miss Robb to make a cash settlement rather than go to court."
"What the hell you talking about?" Anclitas shouted into the telephone.
"About the business I have with you," Mason said, and hung up.
The lawyer looked across the desk at Ellen Robb's startled eyes. "Want to put on your coat and go?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "No one has ever talked to George Anclitas like that. I want very much to put on my coat and go."
Mason nodded to Della Street. "Bring a notebook, Della."
CHAPTER THREE
The Big Barn in Rowena was a two-story frame building, the front of which had been made to resemble the entrance to a barn. Double barn doors were half open. A recessed partition in the back of the doors, which was not over two feet deep but to which the ends of bales of straw had been fastened, created the impression of a huge barn crammed with baled hay.
A motel was operated in connection with the other activities, and a sign at the road blazoned TROUT FISHING POOL. RODS, REELS RENTED. FISH BAIT SOLD. NO LICENSE NECESSARY.
Perry Mason parked his car, assisted Della Street and Ellen Robb to the curb, then walked across to open the door to the night club.
After the bright sunlight of the sidewalks, the interior seemed to be encased in thick gloom. Figures moved around in the shadows.
A man's voice said, "I'm Miles Overton, the chief of police of Rowena. What are you folks doing here?"
Ellen Robb gave a little gasp.
"Where's George Anclitas?" Mason asked.
"Here I am."
George Anclitas pushed his way belligerently forward, his deep-set eyes glittering with hostility at Perry
Mason nodded, studied the young woman's face.
"You've had ups and downs?" he asked.
"Mostly downs," she said, "but I'm in there fighting. I think I'll go back to modeling. I can get by doing that-only there's no future in it."
"How does George Anclitas stand in Rowena?" Mason asked.
"It depends on whom you ask. He owns the justice of the peace and he has something on Miles Overton, the chief of police. As far as official circles are concerned, George stands ace high. Some of the citizens don't like him but they all kowtow to him. He's powerful."
"I think," Mason said, "we're going to interrupt a somewhat busy day to call on George Anclitas. You don't happen to know his telephone number, do you?"
"Rowena 6-9481."
Mason nodded to Della Street. "Get George on the phone, Della. Let's see what he has to say."
A few moments later Della Street, who had been busy at the dial of the telephone, nodded to Perry Mason.
Mason picked up the receiver. "George Anclitas?" he asked.
"Sure," the voice at the other end of the line said. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I'm Perry Mason. I'm a lawyer."
"All right. What does a lawyer want with George?"
"I want to talk with you."
"What about?"
"About an employee."
"Who?"
"Ellen Robb, a singer."
"That tramp. What about her?"
"I'm coming out to see you," Mason said. "It will take me about half an hour to get there. Miss Robb will be with me. I want all of her personal possessions, I want all of the money that she has coming to her, and I'll talk with you about the rest of it."
"All right," George said. "Now I'll tell you something. You bring Ellen Robb out here, and she gets arrested quick. If she wants to spend the next sixty days in the clink, this is the place for her. Tell her I've got the reception committee all ready."
"Very well," Mason said, "and since you're planning a reception committee, you might go to the bank and draw out ten thousand dollars."
"Ten thousand dollars! What are you talking about?"
"I am about to file suit on her behalf for defamation of character, for slanderous remarks and false accusation. If you have ten thousand dollars available in cash, I might advise Miss Robb to make a cash settlement rather than go to court."
"What the hell you talking about?" Anclitas shouted into the telephone.
"About the business I have with you," Mason said, and hung up.
The lawyer looked across the desk at Ellen Robb's startled eyes. "Want to put on your coat and go?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "No one has ever talked to George Anclitas like that. I want very much to put on my coat and go."
Mason nodded to Della Street. "Bring a notebook, Della."
CHAPTER THREE
The Big Barn in Rowena was a two-story frame building, the front of which had been made to resemble the entrance to a barn. Double barn doors were half open. A recessed partition in the back of the doors, which was not over two feet deep but to which the ends of bales of straw had been fastened, created the impression of a huge barn crammed with baled hay.
A motel was operated in connection with the other activities, and a sign at the road blazoned TROUT FISHING POOL. RODS, REELS RENTED. FISH BAIT SOLD. NO LICENSE NECESSARY.
Perry Mason parked his car, assisted Della Street and Ellen Robb to the curb, then walked across to open the door to the night club.
After the bright sunlight of the sidewalks, the interior seemed to be encased in thick gloom. Figures moved around in the shadows.
A man's voice said, "I'm Miles Overton, the chief of police of Rowena. What are you folks doing here?"
Ellen Robb gave a little gasp.
"Where's George Anclitas?" Mason asked.
"Here I am."
George Anclitas pushed his way belligerently forward, his deep-set eyes glittering with hostility at Perry
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