“And how about the shoes?”

  “I haven’t figured out the shoes. Probably she had been able to pick up a pair of slippers for him and he had his feet in the slippers. It wouldn’t be so bad sitting in wet clothes if he had himself all bundled up with blankets. But there was no reason to stay in wet shoes. My guess is she’ll be out to get the shoes within an hour or two, take them in and dry them out.”

  “Why didn’t she take them in with her when she went in with him?”

  “Darned if I know. Probably because she forgot ’em.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Mason said, “We do two things. We put operatives on the job where they can watch the front entrance to the apartment house. We find out which apartment 16B is, and we stake out men with binoculars to watch those windows.”

  “For what?”

  “For a man. We watch the front entrance of the apartment house to make certain no one goes in who presses the bell of apartment 16B. And we watch the windows of that apartment. Pretty soon someone will be stirring around. Then if we see a man in there … Well, then we start moving in. Get it?”

  Drake nodded. “It’s taking a chance, Perry. It’s sort of making two and two add up to six.”

  “Hell’s bells!” Mason exclaimed. “This is no time to be conservative. The guy disappears under circumstances that fairly shout a frameup. The little blond cutie has a half interest in the oil lease and has been carrying something wet in her car, all wrapped up in a blanket—and there are a man’s wet shoes … What more do you want, Paul?”

  A car swung around the corner, hesitated a moment, then veered sharply and swung into the curb behind Drake’s automobile.

  Drake said, “Here’s a car with three of my operatives now. What do we do first?”

  “Put them out the way I said, so they can watch the apartment, the garage, and the windows.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then,” Della Street interposed with firm determination, “we get a cup of hot coffee and if there’s any brandy in the car, we spike it with brandy. My chattering teeth are chipping all the enamel off.”

  “That,” Mason agreed, “is an idea.”

  Chapter 14

  Mason and Della Street sat in Mason’s private office. Mason had passed out word that he would see no one during the morning. They both showed somewhat the effects of the cold, sleepless night, a night packed with excitement, perplexing problems, and risks. Mason had not as yet been shaved and now that the excitement was over Della Street’s eyes showed she was dog tired.

  “I don’t know how you and Paul Drake take it the way you do,” she said. “When I lose a night’s sleep and have a lot of excitement—and then the letdown—gosh, Chief, I feel all in.”

  “Why don’t you go home and go to bed, Della? There’s nothing you can do now.”

  “Not me. I’m going to see it through.”

  Mason ran his fingertips over the angle of his jaw, felt the bristling tips of his stubble, and said, “There was a time when you could get a barber to do a shaving job in the office. The best antidote for a sleepless night is a Turkish bath and the second best thing is a shave and a massage with plenty of hot towels.”

  “I could use a massage myself,” Della said. “Gosh, Chief, it’s after eight o’clock. You’d certainly think that if she were in the apartment she’d have been moving or …”

  The phone rang with sharp insistence.

  Della Street pounced on the receiver, said, “Yes? Hello … Oh, yes. Just a minute, Paul.”

  She handed the receiver to Mason, said, “Paul Drake. He’s excited.”

  Mason picked up the telephone, heard Drake’s voice saying, “You win all along the line, Perry.”

  “What?”

  Drake said, “They started moving around in the apartment about ten minutes ago. The blonde was in a robe. She came to a window, closed it, raised up the curtains. That makes that window a bedroom window, doesn’t it?”

  “I’d say so,” Mason agreed, his voice showing excitement. “How about anyone else?”

  “One of my men picked up a man standing in the window.”

  “Description?”

  “About thirty-five as nearly as my man could tell by using his binoculars and of course taking into consideration that he’s looking into a room where the illumination isn’t too good.”

  “Go ahead,” Mason said, eagerly. “Give us the rest of it, Paul.”

  “My operative figures this guy at around five feet eight, about a hundred and sixty-five to a hundred and seventy pounds, dark hair, and as nearly as he can tell dark eyes.”

  Mason said, “That’s just about Shelby’s description, Paul. How about the front door? This bird didn’t come in … ?”

  “No. He’s been there all the time—at least she hasn’t had any visitors. My men have been watching the front of the apartment house. No one has rung her bell. A lot of people have gone out, but no one that answers this bird’s description has gone in, and there’s been absolutely no one for apartment 16B.”

  Mason said, “That’s all we want, Paul. We’re off.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Better come along and be a witness,” Mason said.

  “Okay. Where do I pick you up?”

  “You don’t. Are you at the office now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come by the office.”

  “Going to Sergeant Dorset?”

  “Lieutenant Tragg,” Mason said, “I think we can go to him now. Dorset will be antagonistic.”

  “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

  Mason hung up, said to Della Street, “It clicks.”

  “What?”

  “Scott Shelby is in her apartment.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “A man’s in her bedroom and he answers Shelby’s description as nearly as Drake’s operative can pick him up through binoculars, looking through the window. He didn’t come in through the front door. He’s been there all night.”

  “Gosh, Chief, that’s swell. This really will be something.”

  Mason said, “That shows the danger of relying on circumstantial evidence. There was an airtight murder case built up against Marion Shelby. The only trouble with it was that it was just too airtight. You can’t imagine a woman being that obvious, being that naive, and being that stupid. Anyone who reads the newspapers, goes to the movies, or reads a detective story would know that those methods were just too crude to pay off. Marion Shelby isn’t that dumb.”

  “You said you wanted Lieutenant Tragg?”

  “If you can get him,” Mason said.

  Della Street called Police Headquarters, asked for Homicide, and then for Lieutenant Tragg.

  “Just a moment, Lieutenant. Mr. Mason wants to speak with you.”

  She held the receiver out to Mason.

  Mason picked it up, said, “Hello, Lieutenant. What’s new?”

  “I understand you have another client in a murder case,” Tragg said.

  “That’s right.”

  “I think you’re going to get stuck this time, Mason. Take my advice and bail out.”

  “In too deep now,” Mason said. “I want to talk with you, Lieutenant.”

  “When?”

  “Right now. Just as soon as I can possibly see you.”

  “Is it that urgent? I’m working on this …”

  “It’s that urgent,” Mason said.

  “It would have to be terribly urgent,” Tragg went on.

  “It is.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “About that murder.”

  “Well, what about it?”

  “I have some new evidence I want to put in your hands.”

  “Now, look, Mason, if you’ve got something that indicates your client is innocent, and you’re just wanting to outline some theory so that I won’t ‘make a fool of myself,’ forget it. It will keep. The thing I’m working on now is important.”

  “This won’t keep,” Mason said. “This is evidence.”

  “What sort of evidence?”

  “Evidence that will make it bad for the whole department if you go any farther on that Marion Shelby business.”

  “Bunk! Marion Shelby is so guilty she doesn’t even dare to talk. She can’t even try to explain the facts against her. They’re too black.”

  “I don’t care how black the facts are,” Mason said, “but if you go ahead without listening to me, you’re going to be the sorriest man in town.”

  “Well, tell me what the evidence is.”

  “I can’t very well over the telephone.”

  “It’ll keep,” Tragg said. “Nothing is going to happen to the girl. She is sitting tight in jail and it won’t make any difference if I see you this afternoon or tomorrow or …”

  “The hell it won’t!” Mason interrupted angrily. “I’ve got something to dump on the table for you.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Very well, if you want to know, it’s the corpse,” Mason said.

  “What corpse?”

  “The corpse of Scott Shelby.”

  “Now then,” Tragg said, suddenly suave and interested, “you have something, Mr. Mason. While we probably can establish a corpus delicti independent of the statement of the defendant, we nevertheless would like to find the corpse very very much.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to hand you the corpse.”

  “Where is it?”

  “If you want to know,” Mason said, “it’s walking around very much alive and well, and it’s in a girl’s apartment. If you go ahead and hand out any stuff to the newspapers about Marion Shelby, you’re going to be the sorriest man in town when you have to put handcuffs on the corpse.”

  Lieutenant Tragg whistled. “Insurance?” he asked.

  “Partially.”

  “Wife in on it?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re not kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “How soon can you get here?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes hell,” Tragg said impatiently. “Make it five. Step on it. My God, I can go from one end of town to the other in ten minutes.”

  “You have a siren,” Mason said.

  “Well, you’ve got something just as good,” Tragg told him. “If you’ve got a lead on that corpse, you get here and tell any cop who tries to stop you that I said … Hell’s bells, I’ll come to you. Where are you?”

  “My office.”

  “Sit tight until I get there,” Tragg said. “Better yet go down and wait at the curb, and it won’t be over five minutes.”

  Mason heard the phone slam at the other end of the line, grinned at Della Street, said, “I’m going down to Paul Drake’s office, pick him up, go down and be waiting at the curb for Tragg. You wait here to make sure that we make connections. In case anything should happen, you can contact us down at the lobby.”

  “How long do I wait?”

  “Tragg said he’d be here in five minutes. Give him ten. Give us that much margin of safety. If you don’t hear from us in ten minutes, go on down to the lobby. If we’re gone, that will mean we’re with Tragg. So go home and go to sleep.”

  “And I can’t go with you?”

  “Not a chance. This is official. This is police stuff.”

  “I’d like to see it through.”

  “I know you would, but there’s nothing we can do about it. I’ll take Tragg around there and you go on home and get some sleep. Go to a beauty parlor and get all the facial massages, and whatever it is they do to make a woman feel good, and put the bill on the expense account. Get the whole works.”

  “When will I see you?” Della asked.

  “Probably tomorrow,” Mason said. “I’m going to get this thing cleaned up, go to a Turkish bath, get a shave, face massage, sleep for about fifteen hours, and then get up and have something to eat.”

  “Okay, I’ll be seeing you.”

  Mason grabbed his hat, opened the door, and went down the corridor to Drake’s office.

  Drake was waiting in the reception office as Mason opened the door. His hat was on the back of his head and he was giving some last-minute instructions to the girl at the switchboard.

  Mason said, “Okay, Paul, we’re ready to go. Tragg is coming here. He thought he could get here quicker than we could get up there.”

  “Gosh,” Drake said, “you must have made a sale.”

  “I did.”

  “How did you do it?”

  “I had to lead with my chin.”

  “What?”

  “Told him I was going to show him the body of Scott Shelby.”

  Drake grinned and said, “I’ll bet that got him. They must have been worried about their corpus delicti.”

  “I think they were, but I went farther than that.”

  “What?”

  “I told him I’d show him the body walking around alive and well.”

  “I’ll bet that got him.”

  “That got him,” Mason said. “Let’s go down and wait in the lobby. He’ll be in a hurry when he gets here.”

  “Gosh, I’d like to go in my car. I hate to go screaming around corners with Tragg when he’s in a hurry. He certainly does bear down on the siren.”

  “It’s all right,” Mason said. “Let’s not let him stop long enough to think.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if he does, he’ll think I’m going over Sergeant Dorset’s head or something and will insist on referring me back to Dorset or else having Dorset in on the play.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that? We’ve got the play sewed up.”

  “I don’t like it,” Mason said. “I want.to get Tragg on the job. Tragg can handle a thing of that sort. He has brains. Dorset is an opinionated cuss. Come on, Paul, let’s go.”

  Drake said to the girl at the switchboard, “I’ll call in just as soon as I can get to a telephone. Keep those reports all piled up and keep everybody on the job. They all have their instructions but I want to make certain they stay put. Okay, Perry, let’s go.”

  They went down in the elevator and had been standing at the curb for less than thirty seconds when they heard the scream of a siren and a moment later Lieutenant Tragg shot through the frozen traffic, slammed the Police Department car to a stop at the curb, said to Mason, “Hop in. Hello, Drake. You in on this too?”

  “He’s in on it,” Mason said.

  “Get in,” Tragg said, and then after a moment added, “Hang on.”

  Mason and Drake settled themselves. Mason barked out the address of the apartment house.

  “Okay,” Tragg said. “I hope you boys aren’t nervous.”

  “We aren’t,” Mason said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Paul Drake announced, bracing himself and hanging on to the robe rail. “Some people haven’t got sense enough to be scared. I’m smart. I’m frightened.”

  “Then hang on tight,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “because you’re going to be more frightened by the time you get to where we’re going. I’m in a hell of a hurry.”

  The siren throbbed and rose into a crescendo of strident demand for the right of way. The car gathered speed.

  From time to time Tragg threw comments back over his shoulder. “Getting so they try to chisel on a siren. I’ll have to send some of the boys out to pick up a few of these guys … That’s the worst of civilians. They think there isn’t any emergency that can compare with their own requirements … Look at this bird trying to sneak around the corner …”

  “Look out!” Drake screamed.

  A car coming fast down a side street slammed on brakes and went into a skid as it saw the police car flashing into the intersection, siren screaming, red light blazing.

  Drake threw one look at the skidding car, saw that it was going to hit them, and dove to the floorboards.

  Tragg swung the wheel with a deft twist of his wrist, sent the police car into a skid which swung it out of the way of the civilian sedan. Then he fought his way out of the skid and straightened out half way down the block.

  “Damn fool,” he announced over his shoulder.

  From the floorboards Drake’s voice came up pleadingly. “Please, please, would you mind going where you’re going and doing the talking after you get there?”

  Tragg laughed, said, “Tell your friend, the detective, to brace himself, Mason. We’re taking a corner.”

  “Hold on,” Mason warned. “We’re taking a corner, Paul.”

  “Hold on?” Drake demanded indignantly. “Who the hell do you think is pulling this footrail out by the roots?”

  The car swung wide, then lurched into a screaming turn.

  “About four blocks up on this street, right-hand side,” Mason said.

  “Okay. I’d better cut out the siren.”

  Tragg cut the siren, slowed the car down. “What’s the play?” he asked.

  Mason said, “The woman is Ellen Cushing. He’s in her apartment. She doesn’t know Paul Drake and she doesn’t know you. She knows me. I think I can get you in on the theory that I want to talk about an oil lease.”

  “Then what?” Tragg asked. “I haven’t all day to fool around, beating about the bush.”

  “You want to get the evidence, don’t you?”

  “You said the evidence was in her apartment.”

  “Sure it is, but give her a chance to lead with her chin first,” Mason pleaded. “Let her get herself tied up. I want to pin a conspiracy charge on her and I don’t want it to be hashed up.”

  “Okay. You do the talking,” Tragg said. “I’ll be a clam but don’t stall around too long because I’m in a hurry. I’ve got things to do this morning.”

  Lieutenant Tragg slammed the car to a stop. “Come on up for air, Drake,” he called over his shoulder.

  Drake, his face actually pale, jerked down the handle on the door, got out, and said, “If you think I’m going to ride back with you, you’re crazy as a pet coon.”

  Mason, walking up the steps, said, “The apartment is 16B, Lieutenant. If you’ll pretend you’re interested in buying an oil lease, I think we can get her out on the end of a limb.”