The Case of the Lazy Lover Read Online Free PDF

good going from the country. Here also were the houses of wealthy people who had removed themselves from the hurry and the bustle of the city to the tranquillity of the rich little suburb.
    Situated a thousand feet high than the plain below, with a backdrop of ragged mountains behind it, Las Olitas was bathed in sunshine. From its residential section, one looked out over a bluish haze of atmospheric impurities to the place where the big city belched nauseous gases into the air.
    It was a forty minute drive from Mason's office to the main street of Las Olitas, and Mason paused for a mount to admire the clear blue of the sky, the slopes of the mountains in the background. Then the lawyer left his car in a parking lot and walked a short distance to the First National Bank.
    The institution seemed to reflect the temperament of the community. Large, spacious and carefully designed by skillful architects, the bank was permeated with an atmosphere of placid stability.
    Mason, running his eyes down the row of open offices back of a marble partition, found a brass plaque bearing the words, "C.E. Pawling, President." Mason also noticed that Mr. Pawling was, for the moment, disengaged.
    The lawyer moved over to the marble partition and studied the president, a man of around sixty who wore an expensively tailored suit with an air of distinction, whose keen, steady eyes managed to radiate a smiling welcome to the world at large, yet all the time those eyes were making a hard appraisal based on shrewd objective observation.
    Mason bowed and the man behind the desk instantly arose and came over to the marble counter.
    "My name is Mason," the lawyer said.
    Pawling extended his hand.
    "I'm a lawyer."
    "Yes, Mr… not Perry Mason?"
    "Yes."
    "Well, well, Mr. Mason! This is indeed a pleasure! Won't you come in? I've read a lot about you. Are you thinking of opening an account, Mr. Mason?"
    "No," Mason said, as he walked through the mahogany gate which the bank president had opened. "I came to see you about a matter which, quite frankly, has puzzled me-- the matter having to do with the interest and welfare of one of your depositors."
    "Indeed, Mr. Mason. Do sit down. Tell me about it."
    Mason said, "I received a check in the mail this morning, a check drawn on this bank in an amount of twenty-five hundred dollars."
    "Ah, yes," Pawling said, his tone indicating that twenty-five hundred dollar retainers could well be paid by the majority of the depositors in his bank.
    "I deposited that check with my own bank in the city, the Farmers, Merchants & Mechanics Bank."
    Pawling nodded "You have perhaps heard about it?" Mason asked.
    Pawling said suavely, "I'd have to learn more of the details, Mr. Mason."
    "The person who signed that check," Mason said, "was Lola Faxon Allred. She has an account also at this same bank where I carry my account. In examining the signature on the check, the bank officials became suspicious, called in a handwriting expert, and the handwriting expert pronounced the check a forgery."
    "Indeed."
    "I suppose that you were notified."
    "What is it you wish, Mr. Mason?"
    Mason said, "I also received another check from Lola Faxon Allred, in an amount of twenty-five hundred dollars."
    Pawling was sitting quite straight in his chair now, his head tilted slightly so that he would be sure to catch every word the lawyer said.
    "That check," Mason said, "was good as gold. It was sent to me by way of a retainer to represent Mrs. Allred in certain matters which concerned her. I am, therefore, in the position of having been a recipient of a forged check and the payee in a genuine check. I am also in the position of being Mrs. Allred's attorney."
    "Ah, yes," Pawling said.
    Mason said, "My client is not available at the moment."
    "Indeed."
    "It occurs to me that the check on this bank which I received may not have been the only forgery which was perpetrated. Mrs. Allred, I believe, customarily makes her checks on a typewriter, does she