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over just as much desert property as he could tie up. At one time he was spread out pretty thin and was pretty much in debt. Now he's cashing in. He's paid off his obligations and has become quite wealthy."
    "Married?" Mason asked.
    "Married to a woman who has been married before and who has a grown son, Marvin Harvey Palmer.
    "That's just about all I can tell you on short notice."
    "When did Winlock come to Riverside?" Mason asked.
    "I didn't get the date. It was around fifteen years ago."
    Mason drummed with his fingers on the edge of the desk, looked up and said, "See what you can find out about Winlock, Paul."
    Drake said, "What do you want me to do, Perry? Shall I put a man on Winlock?"
    "Not at the moment," Mason said. "Boring yes, but Winlock, no."
    "I already have a man working on Boring," Drake said. "He's in Hollywood at the moment and I've got a man ready to tail him as soon as contact can be made. I can put a round-the-clock tail on him if that's what you want."
    "Probably the one man is sufficient at the moment," Mason said. "The point is that he mustn't get suspicious. I don't want him to feel anyone is taking an interest in him.
    "What about the Hollywood Talent Scout Modeling Agency, Paul? Did you get anything on it?"
    "It's just a letterhead business," Drake said. "The address is at one of those answering-service places where they have a telephone, a secretary and a business address that serves a dozen or so companies. The whole thing is handled by one woman who rents an office and then subrents desk space and gives a telephone-answering, mail-forwarding service."
    "Okay, Paul," Mason said. "Stay with it until you find out what it's all about. Remember that technically I don't have any client. I'm doing this on my own so don't get your neck stuck out."
    "Will do," Drake said and went out in a rush, slamming the door behind him.
    Drake had been out of the office less than ten minutes when the phone rang and Della Street relayed the message from the receptionist. "Dianne Alder is in the office," she reported.
    Mason's frown suddenly lightened into a smile. "Well, how about that?" he said. "She's taken the bait and now someone has jerked the line and she's feeling the hook. Go bring her in, Della."
    Della Street nodded, hurried through the door to the reception room and was back in a few moments with an apologetic Dianne Alder.
    "Mr. Mason," she said, "I know I shouldn't intrude on you without an appointment and I feel just terrible about what happened yesterday; but… well, the bottom has dropped out of everything and I just had to find out what to do."
    "What's happened?" Mason asked.
    "A letter," she said, "sent registered mail, with a return receipt demanded."
    "You signed the receipt?"
    She nodded.
    "And the letter is from Boring?" Mason asked.
    Again she nodded.
    "Telling you that your contract was at an end?"
    She said, "Not exactly. You'd better read it."
    She took a letter from an envelope, unfolded the paper and handed it to Mason.
    Mason read the letter aloud for the benefit of Della Street.
    "My dear Miss Alder: I know that as a very attractive young woman you realize the instability of styles and the vagaries of the style designers.
    "A few weeks ago when we approached you with the idea of creating a new trend, we felt that there were very great possibilities in the idea; and, what is more to the point, we had a wealthy backer who agreed with us.
    "Now, unfortunately, there has been a change in certain trends which ha.s caused our backer to become decidedly cool to the whole idea and we ourselves now recognize the first indications of a potentially adverse trend.
    "Under the circumstances, realizing that you are making great sacrifices in order to put on weight which may be difficult to take off, knowing that you have given up a good job and feeling that you can very readily either return to that position or secure one equally advantageous, we are reluctantly compelled to notify you that we are