“I’m not going to come and I’m not going to carry any large sum of money,” Mason said.

  “If,” Gideon went on, heedless of the interruption, “you would like to have someone with you as a bodyguard, that’s all right provided he does not get out of the car. You and you alone are to enter the back door of that storeroom at precisely twenty minutes past three. That will give you time to look up the location on the map, go to the bank, and get the money. You’ll probably need an authorization from your client in order to get it, although I think you have blanket instructions to do anything that’s necessary.”

  Mason said, “Look, Gideon, as I told you, there are three ways of dealing with a blackmailer. One, you pay off. Two, you go to the police. Three, you see that the blackmailer is no longer around.”

  “I’m not going to be around. I told you that.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant,” Mason said. “I meant exactly what I said. You see the blackmailer is no longer around.”

  “Thinking of killing me?” Gideon asked in a bantering tone of voice.

  “Exactly,” Mason said.

  “What form of weapon would you use?”

  “The law.”

  “The law? Are you kidding?”

  “I’m deadly serious,” Mason said. “A supermarket was entered last night. A watchman surprised the thief and was shot. He may die. The burglar, still brandishing a gun, ran from the store and was seen by a reputable witness. I happen to have in my possession a composite sketch which was made by a police artist, and you’d be surprised at the resemblance to your face. I don’t think there’s any question but that the witnesses will identify you.”

  “Why you … you–!”

  “Once you are arrested for murder,” Mason went on, “you have to take the stand to proclaim your innocence. Then the district attorney asks you if, as a matter of fact, you haven’t been convicted of a felony and you have to admit that you have been so convicted. The jury takes one good long look at you and that’s all that is needed.”

  “Now, you look here,” Gideon said, “you can’t do this. I’ll tell everything I know. I’ll get on the stand, relate this telephone conversation and–”

  “And it will be so fantastic,” Mason interrupted, “that no one will believe you. But the effect of it will be that you’ll have to claim that I tried to frame a murder on you because you were blackmailing a client of mine. Think that over.”

  “I – You–”

  “And on second thought,” Mason said, “since you have given me a place to meet you, I’ll be there at exactly twenty minutes past three. I won’t be bringing any money and I will have a gun.”

  Mason hung up the telephone.

  Della Street, who had been monitoring the conversation, looked at Perry Mason with wide eyes. “Do you, by any chance, want to go to the bank and get some money, just in case–”

  “No, thanks,” Mason said.

  “Are you going alone?” she asked apprehensively.

  Mason said, “A blackmailer doesn’t want a witness and when I’m dealing with a blackmailer I don’t want one. I’m rather good at making threats myself … Where’s the reproduction of that composite sketch Paul Drake had the police artist make? Here’s where I jar a blackmailer right back on his heels and start him running so far and so fast he won’t ever come back.”

  Mason pushed back his chair, stood at the desk, his clenched fists pressing down on the blotter, his chin jutting forward with grim determination.

  “Della,” he said, “ring Horace Warren’s office, tell his secretary you’re a reporter with one of the wire services, that you’d like a brief interview in connection with some matter that originated in the east and your editor has instructed you to get an immediate interview.”

  Della Street put through the call, listened, said, “Thank you,” hung up, turned to Mason and said, “Out on an important appointment. Won’t be back until after four this afternoon.”

  Mason said, “Now call for your friend, Judson Olney. Tell whoever answers that you’re his friend, Della Street, and that he left word for you to call.”

  Again Della put through the call. Again she said, “Thank you,” and turned to Mason. “He’s out until three-thirty. I think that was the secretary. Her tone was acid.”

  Mason stood in frowning contemplation.

  “Damn Paul Drake’s men for losing Mrs Warren,” he said at length, “but it doesn’t make any difference. We know now where she’s going – and there isn’t time to head her off.”

  Della Street’s face showed dismay. “Do you think she’s heading for a rendezvous with Gideon?”

  “Where else?” Mason asked. “If Gideon tried putting the bite on me, it’s almost certain he’s trying Mrs Warren. He’s worked out a schedule. Probably Mrs Warren at two-thirty, Horace Warren at two-forty-five, Olney at three, me at three-twenty – a plane at four-thirty. And I can’t stop him. There isn’t time. That place is at the other end of town.”

  “Couldn’t Paul Drake get some men there and–”

  “There isn’t time,” Mason said. “We’re dealing with a super-intelligent crook and so far he’s had all the breaks.”

  “Don’t you think you jolted him with what you said about the witnesses in that murder case?”

  “Of course I jolted him,” Mason said, “but I could tell from his manner that it doesn’t make as much difference as I’d hoped. He’s cleaning up. He’s putting the bite on everybody. He’s going to get the most he can and then clear out.”

  “And you can’t stop him?”

  “I can’t stop him,” Mason said, “because I don’t dare to let him be picked up by the police and he knows it. Nevertheless, I don’t want to sit idly by and have him put his blackmail scheme into operation.”

  “Will you wait until three-twenty to–”

  “No,” Mason interrupted. “That’s where I have him. His split-second timing shows that he’s working out a very carefully engineered schedule for getting his victims on the spot one at a time and – Della, ring up the fire department. Put in a fire alarm for the store at the corner of Clovina and Hendersell. Tell them there’s a big fire in the back room.”

  Della Street’s eyes were wide. “That’s a crime. That–”

  “Sure, it’s a crime,” Mason said. “It’s also a crime to exceed the speed limit and that’s what I’m going to do getting there. I defy any blackmailer to carry on a successful blackmail approach in the midst of a fire alarm.”

  “Then get Paul Drake to send two operatives down to Clovina and Hendersell just as fast as he can!”

  “I’m on my way.”

  Mason grabbed his hat and shot out of the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mason parked his car on Clovina Avenue.

  On the other side of the street were two police cars and the red car of a deputy fire chief. Further down the block there were several cars parked at the kerb.

  The store at the corner of Clovina and Hendersell had evidently been a large space, low rental property. The building was run-down, the neighbourhood was drab and dejected. At one time the building had been used for surplus goods, and a weather-beaten sign of SURPLUS SALE still adorned the front of the building.

  As Mason left the car a man came up to him. “Perry Mason?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Lou Pitman, one of Drake’s operatives. Drake caught me on the car radio phone and sent me here on a rush call. As it happened I was working on another job not too far away and I got here about the same time the fire department did.”

  Mason eyed the man steadily. “Let’s see your credentials,” he said.

  Pitman produced his identification card.

  “Okay,” Mason said. “Now tell me what happened.”

  “It was a false alarm,” Pitman said. “The fire company came charging up, parked their fire trucks, looked the place over, started to leave, then one of them looked in a window, said something to the others. They knocked a window out, went in, then evidently put in a call over their short-wave radio for the police. The police came rushing out here and apparently there was a man trapped inside the building.”

  “Trapped inside the building?” Mason asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “He didn’t get away?”

  “He didn’t get away.”

  “He should have,” Mason said thoughtfully. “He shouldn’t have been there by the time the fire wagons got there. Go on, what happened?”

  “I don’t know what happened, but more police cars have been coming. There’s something on the inside there that bothers them and they’re evidently questioning this man – Here they come now.”

  The front door of the store opened. Lt Tragg, flanked by a plain-clothes detective and two uniformed officers, escorted Horace Warren out of the building.

  “Good Lord!” Mason said.

  “You know him?” Pitman asked.

  Abruptly Mason turned from Pitman, barged across the street and moved toward the group.

  One of the officers said something to Lt Tragg, who looked up and was unable to keep the expression of surprise from his face as he saw Mason bearing down on them.

  “Well, well,” Tragg said. “This is quick work! How did you get here? Did your client telephone you and–”

  Mason fastened his eyes on Warren. “Not one word, Warren,” he said. “Not one word. Don’t open your lips!”

  One of the uniformed officers barged forward, shoved Mason back. “On your way,” he said, “this is a homicide.”

  “Not one word,” Mason called over his shoulder. Then said to the officer, “I’m this man’s attorney.”

  “I don’t give a damn who you are,” the officer told him. “After he’s booked he has the right to ask for a lawyer and then you can come and see him, but you’re not going to butt in on things here. On your way!”

  Mason side-stepped enough to catch Warren’s eye and received a slight nod of the head.

  Mason walked back across the street.

  The other group entered two police cars and roared away.

  “Wasn’t that Tragg, of Homicide?” Pitman asked.

  “That’s right,” Mason said. “He wouldn’t be here unless there was a dead body inside and unless it was murder.

  “They’re leaving a police car there with officers in charge of the place. That looks like a big storeroom with a warehouse in back. There may be an entrance on the other street. As soon as you get reinforcements here, cover the building. Try and find out what happened and telephone me at my office.”

  Mason walked dejectedly across to his car, got in, twisted the ignition key, started the motor and drove back toward his office.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Della Street looked up in surprise as Mason entered the office.

  “What’s the matter, didn’t you get down there?” she asked.

  “I got down there,” Mason said, “and I got back. Now I’m waiting for a telephone call.”

  Della raised inquiring eyebrows.

  “I think,” Mason said, “we’ll have a call from Horace Warren within a short time. He’ll want me to represent him on a charge of murder.”

  “Murder!” Della echoed.

  “That’s right,” Mason said. “Apparently he got down to Gideon before I did. He had the same idea I did, that in dealing with a blackmailer there were only three possible channels of approach – and one of them is to kill him.”

  “And you mean Warren decided to kill him?”

  “Apparently Warren thought he could get away with it,” Mason said, “and he might have if it hadn’t been for that damned fire alarm we turned in.”

  “Oh-oh,” Della Street said.

  “He and Gideon were probably alone,” Mason said. “They had a showdown. Warren killed him, and I can’t blame him very much for that. But then he heard the sirens of the fire department and was trapped in the building. They caught him red-handed.”

  “What about Mrs Warren?”

  “She had either been there before we sewed the building up with the fire alarm, or else she didn’t get there until afterwards. And of course at that time the building was under police guard.

  “She’s smart enough to have spotted the uniformed police there and gone on home. Now, Della, that’s where you come in. Get in your car, go out to the house. See if Mrs Warren is home. If she is, deliver your message. If she isn’t, wait until she gets home and tell her not to say a word to anyone about anything. Simply state that she is making no comment about anything until she has had a chance to talk with an attorney.”

  “With you?” Della asked.

  “You don’t have to say with me,” Mason said. “I’d prefer you didn’t. She can simply tell the police that she wants to talk with an attorney. I think I’m going to be representing her husband.”

  “But if they caught him red-handed,” Della Street ventured, “what can you–”

  “I don’t know,” Mason said. “But Gideon was certainly asking for it.”

  The telephone rang.

  Della picked up the telephone, said, “Yes, Gertie … Yes, Mr Mason will talk.”

  She turned. “Horace Warren now,” she said.

  Mason picked up the telephone. “Yes, Warren.”

  “I’m being held on a charge of murder. They say I have a right to telephone an attorney and–”

  “I’ll be there within fifteen minutes,” Mason said. “Don’t tell them anything. You understand? Not one single damned thing.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll be there,” Mason said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mason sat in the counsel room and said to Horace Warren, “Keep your voice down. Put your mouth close to my ear and mumble the words. I’ve always had a feeling this room was bugged. Now first, answer some of my questions. Did you take the money out of the suitcase in your wife’s bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew it was blackmail and I didn’t want her to pay blackmail. I felt that if I stole the money and left nothing but newspapers in the suitcase, when she tried to pay the blackmailer she would find she had been robbed and would then come to me and confide in me.”

  “Did she?”

  “No.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Apparently she went about getting another batch of money together.”

  “Did you know who was putting the bite on her?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long had you known?”

  “I knew before I married her, Mr Mason. But she didn’t know I knew it and if she wanted it a secret I decided to help her keep that secret.”

  “How did you know about it?”

  “Through Judson Olney.”

  “What did he know?”

  “He knew who she was.”

  “How did he know?”

  “When I met Lorna in Mexico City and became interested in her, I could tell that there was something in her past that was bothering her. She just never talked about her past, and I could see she was in a panic.

  “At that time, Judson Olney was my legman. He was my secretary and did all my legwork. I told him to find out about Lorna Neely, put him on a plane and told him to get the information.

  “It wasn’t hard to get. On the other hand, she hadn’t been implicated in anything. She had been the innocent tool of a smooth crook who had wormed his way into her confidence and had profited by her loyalty.”

  “Do you think she took that forty-seven thousand to keep for him?”

  “I never thought so until … well, until I knew that he was getting out of prison and – Well, she had forty-seven thousand dollars in the suitcase.”

  “So now you think she acted as custodian of that money for him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Does it make any difference in the way you feel toward her?”

  “No.”

  “All right. Now tell me what happened,” Mason said, “and remember to keep your voice low, put your mouth close to my ear and mumble.”

  “Gideon was making a clean-up,” Warren said. “I suppose he telephoned Lorna. He telephoned Judson Olney. He telephoned me. He put the bite on everyone. He said he was leaving and he needed cash money.”

  “Why Olney?” Mason asked.

  “Olney is very loyal to my interests. He didn’t know all that was going on but he was terribly afraid that Gideon was going to blackmail Lorna and the story might come out. Gideon put a very gentle touch on him, just twenty-five hundred dollars.”

  “How much on you?”

  “He wanted me to get ten thousand in cash and bring it to him.”

  “He told you who he was?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you of his connection with your wife?”

  “He told me the whole thing over the telephone. The man was fiendish, Mason.”

  “Then it’s logical to assume he telephoned your wife.”

  “I presume so.”

  “And she went out there with money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did Olney go out there with money?”

  “Olney was raising the money.”

  “Did Olney say anything to you?”

  “Not at first. He was trying to raise the money. The cashier told me that Olney wanted an advance. I called him in and asked him what was the matter and finally I became convinced it was blackmail, and knowing what Gideon had been up to I faced Olney. He then admitted that it was true, that he was trying to protect Lorna and protect me. The man has that much loyalty.”

  “You trust him?” Mason asked. “You think it’s simply loyalty?”

  “I think it’s simply loyalty.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him to forget it, that I’d take care of it, and I went down there.”

  “Did you have the money?” Mason asked.

  “No, I didn’t have the money. I knew that if I once started paying him there’d be no end to it.”

  “In dealing with a blackmailer,” Mason said, “you either submit to his demands, you call in the police, or you kill him. Now then, you weren’t going to pay his demands. Did you make up your mind you were going to kill him?”