"What about her son?"
"Marvin Harvey Palmer is one of those things," Nye said. "We're getting too many of them. He apparently feels that there's never going to be the slightest necessity for him to do any work and he doesn't intend to try. He's an addict for sports cars, a devil with the women, has been picked up a couple of times for drunk driving, but has managed to square the rap somewhere along the line, and- Oh, hell, Perry, you know the picture."
Della Street said, "Here's Paul Drake on the line, Chief."
Mason crossed over to the telephone.
Drake said, "Hello, Perry. I'm going to give you a description of a man and you can tell me if it means anything to you."
"Go ahead."
"Five-foot eight or nine; weight about a hundred and thirty-five pounds, bony shoulders; high cheekbones; very dark but rather small eyes, and a pointed nose that's quite prominent. He's in his late thirties or early forties, quick-moving, nervous-"
"You are describing Mr. Montrose Foster," Mason interrupted. "He's the president of Missing Heirs and Lost Estates, Incorporated, and he called on me trying to pump me for information. Harrison Boring worked for him before branching out on his own."
"He's found Dianne Alder."
"The hell he has."
"That's right."
"How did he find her?"
"I'm darned if I know, Perry. He nosed her out some way. The guy probably is pretty smart. He seems to be a fast worker.
"I think he traced Harrison Boring to Bolero Beach and when he got to inquiring around Bolero Beach he found out that Boring was interested in Dianne Alder.
"Now, it's anybody's guess whether Foster did a little snooping around and found out what Boring's deal with Dianne was, and took it from there; or whether he decided to work fast and go shake Dianne down and see what she'd tell him.
"One thing is certain. Dianne became very much upset as a result of his visit, and shortly after he left, Dianne got her car and droveoff in a rush."
"You're not having her tailed?" Mason asked.
"No. You didn't tell me to. As it happened, the Bolero Beach operative who was nosing around on Boring's back track happened to learn that this character with the pointed nose had been making inquiries about Boring, and so he tried to pick the guy up. He ran into him just as Foster was leaving Dianne's apartment. Then Dianne came out within about ten minutes, jumped in her car and took off in a hurry."
"How long ago?"
"An hour or an hour and a half."
Mason said, "Your man, Moose Dillard, who was shadowing Boring, seems to have attracted Boring's attention. Boring detected the other tail he was wearing and then spotted Dillard when Dillard registered in the Restawhile Motel. He went over to take a look at Dillard's automobile. That car is registered in your name."
"So I understand," Drake said. "I have a report on it. What are you goi to do about Dillard?"
"I'm talking with Sid Nye now," Mason said. "Sid is in my suite here in the hotel. I told him to have Dillard stay put. We'll get some woman operative to look as though she's keeping a motel date with him, and take some sandwiches and a Thermos jug of coffee in to him. He can, of course, get a line on anyone who comes to see Boring there at the motel but his efficiency is pretty much impaired as far as we're concerned."
"How about putting another shadow on Boring?"
"I don't know," Mason said. "I don't think it's going to be necessary. I've decided to cut the Gordian knot by getting in touch with the man about whom this whole thing revolves."
"Who's that?"
"George D. Winlock."
"Winlock!" Drake said.
"Right."
"You've decided he's the one Dianne was picked out for?"
"No. I'm approaching the problem from another angle, Paul. I've come to the conclusion Winlock holds the key to the entire situation."
"Can you discuss it over the phone?"
"No," Mason said. "I'll have to quarterback it from here, Paul."
"Okay," Drake said. "You're on the ground up there and Nye is in charge of the forces up there. You just go ahead and tell Sid what you want done… Do you want my men on the job down there in Bolero Beach any more?"
"No, call them off," Mason said. "I'll tell Sid what to do."
As Mason hung up the phone, Sid said, "Well, I'll get busy and get some good-looking gal lined up who can take some dinner in to Dillard. Dillard has a phone in his room and can call out, but we have to play it easy because the line goes through a switchboard there at the motel and there's always the chance the manager may be listening in."
"Where can I reach you if I should want you in a hurry?" Mason asked.
"The best way is through the office of the TriCounties Detective Agency. They're our correspondents up here and we co-operate with them down at our end of the line and they handle things up here."
"Okay," Mason said. "I'll be in touch with you."
"You're going to see this man Winlock?"
"I'm going to try to."
"He's a pretty shrewd operator," Nye said. "He plays them close to his chest."
Mason nodded to Della Street. "See if you can get him on the line, Della."
"Maybe I'd better wait here until you find out what's cooking," Nye said.
Della Street consulted the telephone book, put through the call and nodded to Perry Mason. "Mr. Winlock," she said, "this is the secretary of Mr. Perry Mason, an attorney of Los Angeles. Mr. Mason would like to talk with you. Will you hold the phone just a moment, please?"
Mason took the phone which Della Street extended to him, said, "Hello, Mr. Winlock. Perry Mason talking."
Winlock's voice was cold and cautious. "I've heard of you, Mr. Mason," he said. "And I have seen you. I was in the courthouse very briefly one time when you were trying a case up here in Riverside."
"I see," Mason said. "I would like to have a few minutes of your time, Mr. Winlock."
"When?"
"At the earliest possible moment."
"Can you tell me what it's about?"
"It's about a matter which concerns you personally, and which I think it would be unwise to discuss over the telephone even in general terms."
"Where are you now?"
"I'm at the Mission Inn."
"I have an important meeting a little later on, Mr. Mason, but I can give you thirty minutes if you could come out right away."
"I'll be there within ten minutes," Mason promised.
"Thank you. Do you know where I live?"
"I have the address," Mason said. "I'll rely on a cabdriver to get me there."
Mason hung up the telephone, said to Della Street, "You're going to have to hold the fort, Della. Keep in touch with things and I'll let you know as soon as I leave Winlock's."
Nye said, "I'll drive you out, Perry. I know where the place is. I can drive you out and wait until you finish your interview and drive you back."
Mason hesitated a minute, then said, "Okay, do that, if you will, Sid. It will save a few minutes and those few minutes may be precious. I want all the time I can have with Winlock."
CHAPTER EIGHT
George D. Winlock's house was an imposing. structure on a scenic knoll.
Nye parked the car in front of the door and said, "I'll wait."
"Okay," Mason said. "I shouldn't be very long."
Mason ran up the steps to the porch, pressed the pearl button, heard the muted chimes in the interior of the house and almost instantly the door was opened by a young man in his late teens or early twenties who regarded Mason with insolent appraisal.