Mason said, “This witness, Goshen, will identify me if he has half a chance. I don’t want him to have that chance.”
“You can’t prevent it,” Drake said. “Why didn’t you let him do it in the first place? It’s going to look like hell when he does it now.”
Mason grinned. “You talk like Tragg, Paul. What does Hollister look like? You must have his description.”
“He’s around forty-seven or forty-eight, tall, raw-boned, brunet, bushy eyebrows. I’ve picked up a fair description and am trying to get a photograph.”
Mason seemed surprised. “Well, well, there’s another tall man who enters the picture. Perhaps Goshen saw him. And this Dudley Gates, who got some money out of a bank and turned it over to Pitkin. What does he look like?”
“He’s a younger man, about thirty-three, medium height, stocky, blond, blue-eyed...”
“Well,” Mason said, “we can probably cross him out of the picture, but Goshen certainly should see this man Hollister.”
Drake’s face lightened. “You may have something there, Perry. Was it Hollister?”
Mason said nothing.
The hope which had been on the detective’s face faded. He said, “I’ll withdraw the question.”
“Okay,” Mason told him. “How about Dudley Gates? Have they found him? What does he say about the money?”
Drake said, “Dudley Gates is with Hollister. They’re partners, and they left Monday night to look over some oil properties.”
“Where are these properties?”
“Up north somewhere. Naturally the location would be something they’d keep secret.”
Mason said musingly, “This is Thursday, the sixth. They left on Monday. They’ve had three days... What time Monday night, Paul?”
“Probably right at six o’clock. Hollister’s housekeeper left at four-thirty. Hollister was waiting to see a man, then Gates was joining him, and he was leaving at six o’clock.
“The housekeeper heard him talking to Gates on the phone, and saying he was leaving on the dot at six, and Hollister was a stickler for punctuality.
“It would have taken Gates a little over an hour to get up there from here.”
Mason said, “Paul, I’ve got to get out of this building without anyone seeing me.”
“You can’t do it,” Drake said. “Tragg has this witness, Goshen, planted in a car with a police escort, waiting for you to walk out. Newspaper reporters and photographers are sprinkled all around the place.”
“Paul, you keep your offices open twenty-four hours a day?”
Drake nodded.
“You have the only office in the building that is open all night?”
“Well?” Drake asked.
“I’m coming down and live with you, Paul.”
“I don’t get it.”
“We’re going to close up this office. Della is going to scout the corridors and make certain that there’s no one between here and your office. Then I’m going down to your office. Della will lock up this place and start home. Naturally newspapermen will intercept her. She’ll smile sweetly at them and tell them that Mr. Mason left the office about half an hour before, that he made arrangements to leave the office in such a way he could work on the case without interruption.”
“You think they’ll take her word for that?” Drake asked.
“Hell, no,” Mason said grinning. “They’ll come up here, though, and find the office dark.”
“And be satisfied you’re still in it.”
“Since they will, but they’ll then get a brilliant idea, and get hold of the janitor and when the scrubwomen come in to clean up the office the newshawks will be snooping around — illegal, but they’ll do it just the same. They’ll want pictures and interviews.”
Drake seemed dubious. “Then they’ll know that you’re in my office. They’ll simply watch it.”
Mason said, “We’ll make them think I managed to get out through the basement.”
“How?”
“There again is where you come in,” Mason said, grinning. “You are going to ship a big packing case by truck. You’re going to be very particular about it, and the packing case which is supposed to contain evidence is to go to the garage in my apartment house. It will be plenty heavy when you ship it. There will be a few holes bored in the lid. You’ll have an operative you can trust go out to the garage, receive the package and promise to unpack it. By the time the newspaper reporters find it it will be empty.”
“What makes you think they’ll find it?”
“As soon as they get the idea that I may have left the office they’ll start asking questions of the janitor to find out whether I could possibly have gone out the back way. They’ll also start questioning you and your office girl to find out if I’m in your office. You’ll let the cat out of the bag by telling them about the packing case.”
“Don’t be silly,” Drake said. “They’ve got a reporter, a photographer and a plain-clothesman covering the back way.”
“That’s fine,” Mason said. “They’ll all remember seeing the big box go out.”
“Suppose they get suspicious and look in the box?”
“If they look in the box we’ll try something else. If they don’t, we’ll make them think I went out that way.”
“But all this isn’t going to do you any good,” Drake said irritably. “You’re simply crucifying yourself. Figure what the papers will do when they — why, hang it, Perry, it will put your neck right in a noose. Evidence of flight is evidence of guilt.”
“That’s right,” Mason said.
“Well, it seems to me you’re playing right into Tragg’s hands. You can’t live in my office indefinitely, Perry.”
“Of course I can’t,” Mason said. “That’s where we use psychology. No one watches the empty barn for the stolen horse.
“Della, run out and scout the corridor. Let me know if it’s clear.”
Della Street nodded, opened the door, walked out into the corridor, returned and said, “It’s all clear now, chief.”
“Come on, Paul,” Mason laughed, “you have a guest.”
Drake said, wearily, “Okay, here we go again!”
Chapter 20
Mason, comfortably seated in Paul Drake’s office, his feet on the edge of Drake’s desk, the back of his chair propped against the wall, held a cup of coffee in his right hand, a sandwich in his left.
Paul Drake, sitting at the desk with three telephones in front of him, munched on a sandwich between incoming calls. One of the telephones rang. Drake swallowed hastily, answered the phone.
When he had finished talking and dropped the receiver into place, he said, “Well, I guess that does it, Perry.”
“What happened?” Mason asked.
“That packing-case clue started the reporters off like a pack of hounds. They traced the packing case to your garage, where they found the empty case with holes bored in the lid. The newspapermen are sore and Tragg’s having kittens.”
“What about Goshen?”
Drake said, “At last reports Goshen was still waiting down there. He...”
A telephone rang.
Paul Drake picked up the receiver, placed it to his ear, said, “Okay, Drake talking... he did... Okay... tell you what you’d better do. You’d better be absolutely certain about that. It may be a trap. We have Goshen’s address. Beat it down there, cover the place. See if Goshen actually goes home... Okay, call me back.”
Drake dropped the receiver into place. “Goshen’s gone.”
“I guess that does it, Paul.”
“It may be a trap,” Drake pointed out. “We’ll check and see if he shows up at his home. He’s been waiting for hours. He’ll be sore.”
A telephone made noise. Drake picked up the receiver, said, “Hello, Drake talking... yes... what the hell!... You sure...? That may be important. Hold the phone a minute — just stay on the line now. Don’t let anyone disconnect you. Stay right on there.”