“We understand,” Holcomb said and then added sarcastically, “of course you never made a kickback to Dundas.”

  Hansell was silent.

  “Go on with your story,” Tragg said.

  Hansell said, “I keep eyes and ears open around Headquarters here, little stuff that comes in – nothing confidential, you understand. Just the sort of stuff they give the Press anyway.

  “I got a tip that Perry Mason had been down in person getting a girl out on a vagrancy charge. It looked funny to me that a high-priced lawyer would come down and spring a broad on a vag. So I decided to investigate. Sure enough, Mason had been down and sprung her with bail money he put up from his own pocket.

  “Okay, I talked with the fellow who had made the pinch. He told me his story, just the way he’d tell it to the Press anywhere. So I backtracked to the Rockaway Hotel, where this jane had had a room, and found out the room had been given her on orders of the manager of the hotel.

  “I went to the manager of the hotel. I told him I wanted to know why he was playing favourites with cute little blondes. He told me to go to hell. Then I pointed out to him that the blonde baby had been picked up for vagrancy within an hour of the time she’d registered at his hotel, and that put a different light on the situation. Naturally he didn’t want to have the name of the Rockaway Hotel appear in print as the residence of a cutie who had been picked up for vagrancy, and he didn’t want his wife to know that he’d arranged for the room. So he broke down and told me his story. John Racer Addison had called him up and asked him as a personal favour to have a room reserved in the hotel for Veronica Dale. Addison said he’d vouch for her.

  “That was swell by me. I’d been going after small fish and now I’d get some big stuff. I decided to interview Veronica Dale.

  “She was pretty cagey about the Perry Mason angle, but she talked about John Addison, said he was just the nicest man. He’d picked her up hitchhiking Tuesday night and had put her in a hotel.

  “Okay, I went to Addison. I cracked a whip over him. Addison was scared stiff. I gave him time to think it over and left a telephone number.

  “Mason called me at that telephone number. I went up to see him. He was out. His secretary said she’d take my hat. She put it on the corner of the desk. Mason came in and talked around in circles with me. I was mad as hell. I got up to leave and there was the cheque for two thousand bucks in my hat signed by John Racer Addison and made payable to me. Under the circumstances, I had no idea the thing could be questioned. I barged right in and took it to the bank myself. I never have done any pen work. I’m a blackmailer – so what?”

  “All right, all right,” Lieutenant Tragg said, “get back to the rest of it, about this blonde.”

  “I’ve told you about her.”

  Tragg glanced significantly at Sergeant Holcomb and said, “Does he know why we’re interested in –?”

  Holcomb shook his head.

  “A little more about that blonde,” Tragg said.

  “Where did Addison pick this girl up?” Holcomb asked.

  “Just after they’d passed Canyon Verde.”

  “How far from Canyon Verde?”

  “Oh, ten or fifteen miles, I gather from the way she talked.”

  “In other words, John Racer Addison was proceeding along that road from Canyon Verde on Tuesday night.”

  “Sure,” Hansell said. “He had to in order to pick her up. He brought her into town.”

  “At what time?”

  “She got into the hotel around quarter to ten, and she was picked up for vagrancy about ten-thirty, I believe.”

  “And where is this girl now?”

  “I don’t know. But I’d make a bet you could find her through John Addison. When those old goats start taking a fatherly interest in a cute blonde trick who is playing the game for all the angles – hell, don’t make me laugh. Addison’s hanging around her like a fly around a molasses jar and she’s letting him hang. If you want to confirm the story from her, just tell Addison you want him to produce Veronica Dale, and he’ll have her here.”

  Tragg said, “All right, Hansell. We’ll give it to you straight. Don’t think you’re getting immunity on a blackmailing rap just because of your magnetic personality or because we’re anxious to hook Perry Mason on a fast one he pulled. You’re a dirty damn chiseller. You’re a small-time worm and I’d personally like to take that sneering smile off your map with a bunch of fives. The only reason your yellow teeth aren’t being pushed down your throat is because you’ve blundered into a murder. As you already know, Edgar Ferrell, Addison’s partner, was murdered on Tuesday night in a house about a quarter of a mile from the Canyon Verde road. Now then, where did Addison pick this girl up? I mean, exactly where?”

  “I can’t tell you that,” Hansell said, studying the tip of his cigarette thoughtfully. “Where would twenty miles from Canyon Verde put it?”

  “It would put it just about opposite the place where the crime was committed,” Lieutenant Tragg said.

  “That’s where it was.”

  Holcomb said, “He didn’t tell it all this time. What was that you told us before, Hansell, about what the girl said about the man who picked her up?”

  “I told you. She has the opportunity to size up the cars. At night she listens for the sound of the motor and …”

  “That’s it,” Holcomb said. “What about the sound of Addison’s motor?”

  “Oh, that,” Hansell said, and then suddenly a look of shrewd, calculating caution flashed over his face.

  Tragg, accustomed to dealing with men of that type, correctly interpreted that look. “Remember, Hansell,” he said, “you’re getting immunity only on the promise that you come one hundred per cent clean. You try holding out as much as one per cent and we’ll throw the book at you for forgery, and we’ve got you cold on that.”

  Hansell said, “I wasn’t holding out anything. I was just thinking.”

  “Well, start talking,” Tragg said. “We’ll do the thinking.”

  “I remember now. I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time. She told me she picked Addison because his car sounded expensive. She said he was coming up out of a side road. The night was still and she could hear his motor coming along the side road. Then she heard the wheels cross a plank bridge. Then the car climbed a pitch and was coming toward her and she listened to the sound of shifting gears. He had come up on the highway in low gear and had shifted into high about a hundred yards before he got abreast of her. The motor sounded smooth and well cared for, so she stood out by a culvert and turned around so the headlights would strike her face, and looked sweet and helpless.”

  “By a culvert,” Lieutenant Tragg said. “By a culvert.”

  “And Mason gave you that cheque?”

  “Mason gave me that cheque. It was put in my hat.”

  “And Mason’s secretary put the hat on the desk?”

  “That’s right.”

  Tragg said, “Okay, Mason. You’ve been leading with your chin for a long time. I’m going to put a charge against you for forging Addison’s name to a cheque. And I’m going to subpoena Della Street.”

  “On the strength of a crook’s testimony?” Mason asked.

  “You’re damn right,” Tragg said. “He’s a crook but his story makes sense. You knew that if you paid him off on a blackmail, you’d never be done with it. You figured he’d have a criminal record and that if you could get him picked up for passing a forged cheque, we’d throw the book at him and he’d never have any opportunity to use the information he had. What’s more, he couldn’t ever explain because you’d have him between two horns of a dilemma. He either had to be a forger or a blackmailer. If he kept quiet, he went to jail for forgery. If he talked, he talked himself into the pen for blackmail.”

  Hansell looked up sneeringly. “Wise guy,” he said to Mason.

  “For Christ’s sake, shut up!” Holcomb said irritably.

  The phone rang.

  Holcomb walked over, picked it up, said, “Holcomb talking. Who …? Yeah … what about it?”

  Suddenly he pulled the cigar from his mouth and banged it into the spittoon. “How’s that again?” he said angrily.

  He screwed up his face with the intensity of his effort at concentration, then said, “Okay,” and banged the receiver down on the hook so hard that it seemed as though the hook would be ripped off the telephone.

  “I want to talk with you, Lieutenant,” he said to Tragg.

  Tragg said, “Well, let’s get hold of Addison, find out about this Veronica Dale, lake her out on the road and see if she can tell us exactly where the place was she was picked up.”

  Holcomb nodded without enthusiasm.

  “On second thought,” Tragg said, “I think we’ll wait until night to do it. We’ll take her out to Canyon Verde and let her see the road under approximately the same conditions as she saw it when she was hitchhiking.”

  Mason said, “Are you birds going to try to hold me? If you are, you’d better swear out a complaint and get a warrant issued.”

  “You just sit right there,” Tragg said ominously, “and in about twenty minutes we’ll have you all taken care of, Mr Mason.”

  Holcomb said, “After all, Tragg, we don’t want to go off half-cocked on this thing. We’d better check Hansell’s story a little more.”

  Tragg said, “It’s a typical Mason trick. I know Hansell’s telling the truth. It sounds just like Mason. It’s just the way Mason would play it. He was trying to protect his client, and when Mason starts protecting a client, he doesn’t give a damn what he does. He protects his client’s interests. He was putting Hansell into such a spot the guy couldn’t talk, couldn’t blackmail, and couldn’t even come back.”

  “Well, let’s talk it over a little,” Holcomb said, and, catching Tragg’s eye, closed his own eye in a warning wink.

  Mason pushed back his chair. “Don’t think I’m going to stick around here while you have a debating society. I’ll be at my office.”

  “We’ll serve a warrant on you and take you to the can in handcuffs,” Tragg warned.

  “Go ahead,” Mason said. “Call the newspaper photographers and get some publicity, if you want.”

  “That’s exactly what we’ll do,” Tragg told him.

  “That’s fine,” Mason said, and stalked out of the office.

  The lawyer took a taxicab back to his own office building, walked down the corridor, unlocked the door marked PERRY MASON, PRIVATE, and said to Della Street, “Della, you’re going to have to take a powder.”

  “What?”

  “That cheque,” Mason said. “They’re really going to town. They’re going to drag you in front of the Grand Jury and I don’t want you to be available for a while. I …”

  Della Street said excitedly, “Chief, didn’t Sergeant Holcomb get a telephone call?”

  Mason had gone over to a desk drawer, jerked it open and was hastily pulling papers from his private file. He stopped in mid-motion, looked at Della Street with sudden puzzled comprehension.

  “Did he?” she asked.

  “Hell, yes!”

  Della Street said, “I worked as fast as I could. That was the bank telephoning that there had been a terrible mistake made in charging Eric Hansell with forgery, that while it was true the signature had been traced, John Racer Addison had acknowledged the signature as his. He’d dashed off the cheque in pencil at first, and, thinking that perhaps a pencil signature wouldn’t be honoured by the bank, had traced it over in India ink and sent it up to this office to give to Hansell.”

  Mason paused for a moment, digesting the information, then dropped the papers back into the drawer, walked around the desk and took Della Street into his arms. “How did you happen to think of that?” he asked.

  He was holding her so close to him that her voice was muffled. “Elementary, my dear Watson. Everyone had been so busy with the murder case they’d forgotten that Addison had never actually denied the cheque. So as soon as Lieutenant Tragg had left the office, I got hold of Addison and told him to call up the bank, tell them he’d just learned Hansell had been arrested for presenting a forged cheque, that the cheque wasn’t forged at all, but was perfectly genuine, that it was his signature. I told him his call would cost him two thousand dollars to a blackmailer, but if he didn’t make it he’d find his lawyer in jail and the two thousand and more would be on his bill.”

  Mason released Della Street, went over to his desk, sat down in the chair and threw back his head and laughed.

  “Did I do all right?” she asked.

  “All right?” Mason said. “You did perfect! Only, you violated half a dozen sections of the Penal Code.”

  “So what?”

  “They’ll sure as hell arrest you if they ever find out about that call.”

  She said, “Okay. Let them try to find out I knew I was taking a chance, but a gal who won’t take a chance once in a while is a stick. And besides, I’ve got the smartest lawyer in the city on my side.”

  “The lawyer,” Mason said, “would be a stuffed shirt without his secretary. Gosh, Della! No wonder Holcomb looked as if he’d swallowed too much tobacco juice! Has your salary been raised lately?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, raise it again,” Mason said. “You’re getting better and better. And now you’ve got another job. Go to your apartment. Wait there, Paul will bring Veronica Dale there. Find some place to keep her under cover. I’ll be out as soon as I can get away, but it may be late.

  “Get started, Della, and let’s hope we’re lucky. We’re going to need lots of luck.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Perry Mason tapped gently on the door of Della Street’s apartment.

  She opened the door a small crack, saw who it was, then beckoned him in and quietly closed the door behind him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “She’s down in Apartment 13-B.”

  “Making any trouble?”

  “Sweet as a lamb.”

  “You held her here for a while?”

  “Yes. But only for a while. I was afraid they’d be looking for her here. I had another visitor, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Lorraine Ferrell.”

  “What?” Mason asked.

  She nodded.

  “How come?” Mason asked.

  “She was looking for you. She couldn’t get any satisfaction at the office, so she came here. That was when I was expecting Veronica and Drake’s man, so I got rid of her quick. She’s jittery, wants to see you, says it’s terribly important. Chief, I’ll tell you something about that woman. She’s in love with John Addison.”

  “No.”

  “Definitely.”

  “She didn’t show it when I talked with her and Addison.”

  “You mean you didn’t see it. It takes a woman to see things like that.”

  “Hang it, Della, that complicates things. If she knew about Veronica, she might be jealous.”

  “I think she does and I think she is.”

  “What about John Addison?” Mason asked. “Would he be in love with Lorraine?”

  “I don’t know about him,” she said, “but I can tell you definitely that woman is in love with him.”

  Mason sat on the corner of the table, swinging one foot, his forehead creased into a frown. “That could complicate matters. What about Veronica?”

  “She’s just the same as ever. Addison told her he wanted her to go with Drake’s man and she followed along like a sweet little lamb. No questions, just obedience. She came here and I told her I was getting an apartment for her and that when I did she was to stay inside that apartment without communicating with anyone.”

  “Give her any reason?”

  “I didn’t have to. She was completely docile. Chief, a woman couldn’t be that green.”

  “Does she think it’s connected with the murder case?”

  “Apparently she doesn’t think, period,” Della Street said. “Now that isn’t right. A girl with looks like that has had people make passes at her. She must know what it’s all about. If a wealthy department store owner picks her up and gives her a ride, gets her a room in a hotel, then gets her a job, and then suddenly takes her off the job and sends her out to an apartment where she’s supposed to be secluded and mysterious – hang it, Chief, even a young, innocent girl would rebel at that.”

  “No signs of rebellion?”

  “Just sweet innocence,” Della Street said, “a synthetic round-eyed innocence.”

  “They got her out of the Rockaway Hotel all right?”

  “Yes. Apparently police hadn’t started checking on her. Drake’s men made certain the place wasn’t being watched, then had her go in and pay her bill, take her one little bag and check out.”

  “She hasn’t acquired any more baggage?”

  “Apparently not. Most women under the circumstances would have had Addison okay a charge account and picked up some clothes. This girl looks like a seasoned traveller to me. What she can do with the few things she has in that little suitcase is absolutely astounding. Of course, her stuff is light stuff that packs well. Chief, I tell you there’s something phoney about that girl.”

  “Well,” Mason said, “I’ll go take a good look at her, and I mean a good look. Apartment 13-B?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How long can we have it?”

  “A week. The girl who leases it is in Salt Lake. I phoned her and explained something of the circumstances. I told her I simply had to have an apartment for a single girl and that we’d pay her twenty dollars a day and make good any damage. She jumped at it.”

  “Okay,” Mason said. “I’ll go see how Veronica’s getting along in her new quarters. You don’t think she has any idea she’s being put out of circulation because of that murder case?”

  “I don’t know what she thinks,” Della Street said. “I claim it’s an act. A girl couldn’t be that dumb.”

  “That innocent?”

  “That dumb.”