“But his company gives him an excellent reputation. His company feels the utmost confidence in his honor and his integrity.” “I have told you, Monsieur Mason, that companies cannot feel; only the people in the companies. And later on, when the case comes to trial, Monsieur Mason, I shall read the papers with much interest. But you watch closely this (man). Perhaps he will tell you a story that is very fine as stories go when you do not question, but when he gets on the witness stand and finds that he cannot use the cold English manner to hide behind, then perhaps he gets mad, and when he gets mad, poof! Look out!” “He has a temper?” Mason asked. “That, Monsieur Mason, I do not know, but I have heard what others say. He is bad when he gets mad. His manner is a mask.” “I thank you,” Mason said. She hesitated a moment, then archly blew him a kiss with the tips of her fingers. The door closed gently but firmly.
It was the title that caught my eye... I remembered that I had watched the case... So I decided to read the book. I'm glad I did... The book was much more involved than the television version... Indeed, as I got past meeting the actual typist as the story began, I realized that I was soon engrossed in a book that had so much more, I realized that it was an entirely new and complex mystery to be enjoyed. That didn't surprise me since I normally choose reading as opposed to television.
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| She was everything a man could want in a confidential secretary-- and then some... |
In any event, I first had my eye on Della Street, Mason's secretary, since that was the job for which I was first employed... Street was so great as a role model and I'd watch her every move and action. Especially that she was normally involved in many of the meetings related to cases... Guess that's where I later got my interest in Law and Order--all of them! And how I have ongoing anger these days as law and order has disappeared!
The typist also caught my attention. I'm a pretty good typist myself, but this individual was to be able to type continuously at high speeds with no errors--I laughed when I admitted to myself that I wasn't that good! LOL But, then, I was not hired as a typist and had a broader scope of duties and responsibilities than being able to type fast and accurately... Or so I told myself... But that personal musing lasted just about the time when the terrified typist had left Perry Mason's office, with the job not finished! And Paul Drake was called in!
Perry Mason eyed the brief which Jackson, his law clerk, had submitted for his approval. Della Street, sitting across the desk from the lawyer, correctly interpreted the expression on Mason’s face. “What was wrong with it?” she asked. “Quite a few things,” Mason said. “In the first place, I’ve had to shorten it from ninety-six pages to thirty-two.” “Good heavens,” Della said. “Jackson told me he had already shortened it twice and he couldn’t take out another word.” Mason grinned.
“How are we fixed for typists, Della?” “Stella is down with the flu and Annie is simply snowed under an avalanche of work.” “Then we’ll have to get an outside typist,” Mason told her. “This brief has to be ready for the printer tomorrow.” “All right. I’ll call the agency and have a typist sent up right away,” Della Street promised. “In the meantime,” Mason told her, “I’m going over this thing once again and see if I can’t take out another four or five pages. Briefs shouldn’t be written to impress the client. They should be concise, and above all, the writer should see that the Court has a clear grasp of the facts in the case before there is any argument about the law. The judges know the law. If they don’t, they have clerks who can look it up.” Mason picked up a thick blue pencil, held it poised in his hand, and once more started reading through the sheaf of pages, which already showed signs of heavy editing.
Della Street went to the outer office to telephone for a typist. When she returned Mason looked up. “Get one?” “The agency doesn’t have one at the moment. That is, those they have are rather mediocre. I told them you wanted one who is fast, accurate and willing; that you didn’t want to have to read this thing through again and find a lot of typographical errors.” Mason nodded, went on with his editing. “When can we expect one, Della?” “They promised to have someone who would finish it by two-thirty tomorrow afternoon. But they said it might be a while before they could locate just the girl they wanted. I told them there were thirty-two pages.” “Twenty-nine and a half,” Mason corrected, smilingly. “I’ve just cut out another two and a half pages.”
Mason was just finishing his final editing half an hour later when Gertie, the office receptionist, opened the door and said, “The typist is here, Mr. Mason.” Mason nodded and stretched back in his chair. Della started to pick up the brief, but hesitated as Gertie came in and carefully closed the door behind her. “What’s the trouble, Gertie?” “What did you say to frighten her, Mr. Mason?” Mason glanced at Della Street. “Heavens,” Della said, “I didn’t talk with her at all. We just rang up Miss Mosher at the agency.” “Well,” Gertie said, lowering her voice, “this girl’s scared to death.” Mason flashed a quick smile at Della Street. Gertie’s tendency to romanticize and dramatize every situation was so well known that it was something of an office joke. “What did you do to frighten her, Gertie?” “Me! What did I do? Nothing! I was answering a call at the switchboard. When I turned around, this girl was standing there by the reception desk. I hadn’t heard her come in. She tried to say something, but she could hardly talk. She just stood there. I didn’t think so much of it at the time, but afterward, when I got to thinking it over, I realized that she was sort of holding on the desk. I’ll bet her knees were weak and she—” “Never mind what you thought,” Mason interrupted, puzzled. “Let’s find out what happened, Gertie. What did you tell her?” “I just said, ‘I guess you’re the new typist,’ and she nodded. I said, ‘Well, you sit over at that desk and I’ll get the work for you.’” “And what did she do?” “She went over to the chair and sat down at the desk.” Mason said, “All right, Gertie. Thanks for telling us.” “She’s absolutely terrified,” Gertie insisted. “Well, that’s fine,” Mason said. “Some girls are that way when they’re starting on a new job. As I remember, Gertie, you had your troubles when you first came here, didn’t you?” “Troubles!” Gertie exclaimed. “Mr. Mason, after I got in the office and realized I’d forgotten to take the gum out of my mouth, I was just absolutely gone. I turned to jelly. I didn’t know what to do. I—” “Well, get back to the board,” Mason told her. “I think I can hear it buzzing from here.” “Oh Lord, yes,” Gertie said. “I can hear it now myself.” She jerked open the door and made a dash for the switchboard in the outer office.
Mason handed Della Street the brief and said, “Go out and get her started, Della.” When Della Street came back at the end of ten minutes Mason asked, “How’s our terrified typist, Della?” Della Street said, “If that’s a terrified typist, let’s call Miss Mosher and tell her to frighten all of them before sending them out.” “Good?” Mason asked. “Listen,” Della Street said. She eased open the door to the outer office. The sound of clattering typewriter keys came through in a steady staccato. “Sounds like hail on a tin roof,” Mason said. Della Street closed the door. “I’ve never seen anything like it. That girl pulled the typewriter over to her, ratcheted in the paper, looked at the copy, put her hands over the keyboard and that typewriter literally exploded into action. And yet, somehow, Chief, I think Gertie was right. I think she became frightened at the idea of coming up here. It may be that she knows something about you, or your fame has caused her to become self-conscious. After all,” Della Street added dryly, “you’re not entirely unknown, you know.” “Well,” Mason said, “let’s get at that pile of mail and skim off a few of the important letters. At that rate the brief will be done in plenty of time.” Della Street nodded. “You have her at the desk by the door to the law library?” “That seemed to be the only place to put her, Chief. I fixed up the desk there when I knew we were going to need an extra typist. You know how Stella is about anyone using her typewriter. She thinks a strange typist throws it all out of kilter.” Mason nodded, said, “If this girl is good, Della, you might arrange to keep her on for a week or two. We can keep her busy, can’t we?” “I’ll say.” “Better ring up Miss Mosher and tell her.” Della Street hesitated. “Would it be all right if we waited until we’ve had a chance to study her work? She’s fast, all right, but we’d better be sure she’s accurate.” Mason nodded, said, “Good idea, Della. Let’s wait and see.”
~~~~~~
Ah, the life of a law office. Nothing is more important than working on legal cases that can mean life or death for individuals who may or may not have broken the law. In this case, a bit of serentipidity occurred which allowed a woman to enter into that law office, be asked to sit down and, to begin typing a brief that needed to be published by the next day...
Actually, she was hiding and had entered the first door that was unlocked and it happened to be the offices of Perry Mason, a lawyer with such a prestigious reputation, that she at least felt safe in staying. We later learn that she does indeed work in a law office, but she was near Mason's office because she had broken into a nearby office and had almost been caught! It was for a very personal reason--she'd been looking for personal letters that she very much wanted to have safely back in her hands... Unfortunately, the office belonged to an international diamond group and when she had left that office, she also had a couple of diamonds with her...
What a cool setup right? She panicked, but because of her typng skills, she was able to quickly recognize that she could assume a role she had the skills for, and quietly spend time typing out exactly what Perry Mason needed her to do...
But it didn't take long for the police to become involved. Two of the individuals who worked in the diamond exchange had returned and found that their office had been broken into. Soon, police officers were coming around, including to Mason's office, asking about what they knew... At some point, however, the terrified typist escaped to the rest room and decided not to return... Did she purposely leave the diamonds that she had used gum to attach underneath her typing stand? Or did she realized that she had to get out quickly, no matter what had happened?
That was not an easy task, even for Drake's staff...
And, before long, one of the men from the diamond exchange, having been in touch with their home office, had come to see Mason and ask that he represent one of their firm's employees... The complexity begins immediately and those involved could not be trusted as being truthful...
Especially when Mason realized that his nemesis, the District Attorney seemed very happy, so much so that he planned to handle the court case himself! Of course Perry would be ready to handle anything that came up in court, but he and Paul were doubling down on interviews with anybody who could possibly have been involved... And then they learned that The Terrified Typist was being held by the police...
And, folks, the ending was completely a surprise for me... So, it was that the book I thought I would remember actually ended very differently. So much so, that I wondered whether I should include the following video which claims to give away the whodunit...
And another old classic came to mind which is a hint about what happened in court on the last day...
Of course, the Prosecuting Attorney didn't want to play Who's the Defendant?...
But, hey, these stories are from the 1950s--they are classics of one of the first significant legal thriller/mysteries and, I promise, you will continue to find additional and new parts to be discovered, no matter how often you read them... I'm a fan of course, so I admit it... I want to listen to the video of the individual who is doing a series on the cases...
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