• “This is the sort of stuff that drives you nuts in this business,” Drake said. “I have two dozen men on the job. It gets around to the slack time and I start calling them in. Then something like this breaks. I’m like a runner with too short a lead on first base with the batter rapping out a short single. I’m falling all over myself trying to get started.”
• “If you feel that way about it,” Mason said, “think about me.”
• Drake shook his head. “Your job hasn’t started yet. I’m getting you the facts. After I get them, you can take whatever action is indicated – probably nothing, now that the guy’s been murdered.”
• Mason glanced at Della Street, grinned, and said, “Listen to the detective telling the lawyer, how easy the life of an attorney is.”

Let’s face it: no matter the prevailing theme, whether it’s married life or animals or, in this year’s case, all those pretty girls, the reason we read Perry Mason novels is to revel in the devious machinations of one of the best teams in mystery fiction. Mason is a trickster extraordinaire, but he wouldn’t be half as fun without the mournful Paul Drake sending out five hundred of his best men, no expenses spared, to get the facts, then sitting sideways on Perry’s client chair to mourn that the case is lost, or Della Street, the will-they-or-won’t they? (they do and they won’t, so just give it a rest!) Girl Friday (and Saturday and Sunday) who takes shorthand like a whiz and who can read the personality of anyone who walks into the Chief’s office with accuracy and flair, like the following: 

“As far as looks are concerned, that’s a cinch, but on his character it isn’t so easy. He’s in the middle sixties, well-dressed, well-preserved, shaggy-eyebrowed, and gray-haired. But there’s something about the mann which hits you with – well, not an impact, exactly. It catches you on your blind side. It’s not exactly a benevolence. It’s a quiet power – something in his manner and in the tone of his voice.”

Della’s “first looks” are always something – and we would always be advised to pay attention. 

Our last adventure closed out the 1940’s, and The Case of the Negligent Nymph begins the 50’s with a splash! As in the previous case, we begin with Mason in the middle of representing a client. Last time it was an innocent college boy victimized in a hit-and-run, but this time, if we view matters through a modern lens, it might be harder to find sympathy for the client, a business syndicate that wants Mason to help them gain control over an individual’s private property that contains valuable oil deposits in order to, well . . . drill, baby, drill! 

If it’s any help, however, that individual is an odious sort, maybe even psychopathic: George S. Alder inherited half his father’s business, and since his half-sister Corinne Lansing, who might be even crazier than her brother, has conveniently disappeared, George is running the show with the help of his uncle Dorley (the shaggy-eyebrowed gentleman described above). Clearly George is going to be our victim, but he doesn’t die till nearly the halfway point, and up till then the novel if filled with some juicy scandal. I don’t want to go into detail about all this – that’s part of the fun here – but suffice it to say that if you were to grab hold of Gardner’s famous plot wheel, give it a spin, and find it landing on the popular “Girl falls overboard,” you shouldn’t be surprised. 

At the start, Perry knows nothing about this: he is merely trying to gather information to use against George Alder for his client’s benefit. Which is why we find him paddling around Alder Island in a rented canoe in the dead of night. Whyever is he doing that? Do we really need a reason . . . because Mason doesn’t. 

“Perry Mason was by no means an ordinary lawyer. It was never his policy to attack where the enemy expected the blow to fall. Rather, he preferred to devise some ingenious objective all his own. Hence his nocturnal survey of the place, which meant more to Alder than all of the far-flung empire which he controlled.”

A gathering is going on at Alder’s place, but the real party begins when Mason shifts his binoculars and beholds a beautiful young woman, stark naked, swimming with smooth easy motions toward the island. Again, what happens to her and how Mason gets involved is a thrilling escapade you should discover for yourself, but if you were to spin the plot wheel and it landed on “Chased by killer Doberman,” you wouldn’t be amiss here.

Dorothy Fenner, our negligent nymph, fits well on our list: she’s attractive, seductive, and has a tendency not to listen to her attorney’s advice. As a result, we get much more courtroom action than usual, and since Mason has really dug himself into a legal hole here with his actions, it’s fun to watch him dig himself out – particularly when his adversaries, a sneaky assistant D.A. and an obnoxiously stupid sheriff, are so rotten to him. I must say, though, that Hamilton Burger and Lieutenant Tragg are much missed. 

As often happens in a Perry Mason novel, the whodunit aspects are sabotaged by a dearth of suspects. Here there are exactly two. Well, two and a half if you count the beachcomber who discovered the bottle. But Pete Cadiz serves a higher purpose here, one we saw in an earlier favorite, The Case of the Drowsy Mosquito. Pete exists to promote a superior lifestyle of which author Gardner approved: living off the land, taking just what you need, eschewing the stress of earning a living, which is just a big ol’ plot wheel upon which members of the rat race run and run until they drop. Pete also happens to be a blackmailer, but Perry is still more than willing to give him a soapbox on which to air his vagabond philosophy. 

The solution depends upon Mason’s understanding of man’s best friend – this could just as easily have been called The Case of the Dangerous Doberman – but a lot of his reasoning seems to come out of nowhere. But hey! even thin air can waft along on a gentle breeze. 

*     *     *     *     *

“The Case of the Negligent Nymph” premiered on October 19, 1957, the twelfth episode of the first season of Perry Mason. It bears only a passing reference to the novel and excises almost everything that makes the book sexy and fun. There is still a dearth of characters on the suspect list, and the killer here is not a part of the original plot. Barbara Hale is already starting to put a maternal spin on Della’s character. On the lighter side, we get to watch Paul Drake at a Mexican restaurant, doing a funny bit with hot sauce. Twice. 

I’m excited about next month’s title, which Barzun and Taylor called “one of the tightest-knit and richest in gimmicks and characters.” Should be a good time!