“Finchley was all fed up with Exeter and the Las Vegas crowd. He thought he could get Exeter off his neck. He got a wrench from the tool box in his car and unscrewed the gas feed line, drove back and told his wife to cover for him on an alibi.”
Mason nodded. “That figures,” he said.
Tragg suddenly shot out his right hand, gripped Mason’s hand and shook hands cordially.
“Thanks for the buggy ride,” he said.
A newspaper photographer exploded a flash bulb and caught the two men shaking hands. A reporter moved over and said to Mason, “What was that Tragg said to you?”
Mason said, “The lieutenant was simply saying that if I had only put my cards on the table with him a little sooner, they would never have arrested Daphne Shelby.”
Tragg beamed at the lawyer.
The newspaper reporter seemed puzzled. “Well, why didn’t you?” he asked.
Mason turned to where Horace Shelby was writing out a check.
“And cheat myself out of a good fee?” he asked.
The reporter laughed, and the photographer put in a new flash bulb to hurry over and get a picture of Mason accepting the check.