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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 lawyer 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?"