Drake cupped his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone and said to Mason, “They’ve found Hollister’s car. It had been driven over a grade and wrecked.”
“Any trace of Hollister?”
“No trace. Just the empty car.”
“Where?” Mason asked.
“Ten and two-tenths miles above Santa del Barra on the Canyon road. Apparently it had been deliberately driven off the grade.”
“What makes you think so?”
“My man’s reporting. He’s been in touch with the highway patrol. They discovered the car about an hour ago. The car was in low gear, die ignition switch was on.”
“How did they happen to find it?”
“One of the highway patrol just happened to notice very faint tracks. It was just luck he did, because the tracks were almost obliterated. They were at a wide place in the road where there’s a lot of rock, and then a cliff goes straight down for something over a hundred feet into a canyon.”
Mason said, “Where’s your man now?”
“He’s reporting from Santa del Barra.”
Mason said, “Tell him to examine the car as much as the police will let him. I want to know exactly what’s in it, and exactly what isn’t in it.”
Drake relayed instructions into the telephone, then said, “Okay, wait a minute, just hold on a second.”
Once more he cupped his hand over the mouthpiece, said to Mason, “The police are going up there with a hoist.
They’ve phoned Tragg, and Tragg has ordered the car to be hoisted to the road. It’s going to be quite a job. They’ll take out a wrecking car and they’ll literally have to lift the car as a dead weight up the side of the cliff.”
“Okay. Tell your man to stay with the police, Paul.”
Drake said into the telephone, “Stay with the police. Examine the car. Call back as soon as you have anything.”
He dropped the receiver back into place, said, “Hollister didn’t get very far before ditching his car.”
“He got ten miles, five of it up a mountain road. Isn’t that the road to Rushing Creek, Paul?”
“Good heavens, so it is!” Drake said. “Would that mean anything, Perry?”
“I don’t know.”
Mason started pacing the floor. “Damn it, Paul, I wish you’d get a bigger office.”
“Can’t afford it,” Drake said. “I only need an office as headquarters. I don’t have to impress clients the way you do.”
Mason said, “The trouble is you have no place to walk. About the time you get started pacing the floor in this cubbyhole you run up against a wall. How the heck do you ever do any thinking?”
Drake said, “I sit in a chair when I think.”
“You sure have to in this dump,” Mason told him.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Goshen.”
“You should have let him put the finger on you and then yelled it was a frame-up,” Drake said. “He’ll get you sooner or later and then it’ll look like hell because you ran away.”
Mason kept pacing the floor.
“You can’t squirm out of that situation,” Drake said. “The guy’s going to identify you.”
“He didn’t get a good look at the man’s face,” Mason said.
“He’s had a good look at yours now. Tragg saw to that.”
Mason said, “With the recovery of that car in Santa del Barra, Tragg will be tearing up there in order to see what he can find. Now Lieutenant Tragg is the brains on the homicide squad. The other boys aren’t particularly smart. On the other hand, Tragg is fair, and the other chaps are inclined to take every advantage... And Sergeant Holcomb would welcome a chance to knife Tragg in the back... I’ll tell you what let’s do, Paul. Do you have an operative who’s about my size and build? One whom you can trust?”
Drake looked Mason over thoughtfully, said, “Will he get into trouble?”
“Not if he does exactly as I say,” Mason said.
“There’s Jerry Lando. He’s just about your build, and about your age.”
“Can you trust him?”
“You can trust Jerry anywhere. He’s been around. He’s a smart cookie.”
Mason said, “I remember you told me once that lots of times a camera and a flash gun would get a detective in places when no other scheme would do the work, Paul.”
“That’s right. Whenever anyone sees a chap carrying a press camera and a flash gun they take him for a newspaper photographer and very seldom even bother to ask questions.”
“Therefore I take it you keep a camera on hand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I want it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Also I want you to round up some good photographers. Can you get them?”
“How many?”
“Five or six.”
“There’s a night school in journalistic photography. I could probably hire some of the advanced students.”
“Okay. Get this Jerry Lando up here. Does he have a car?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “We’ll use his car. Tell him to bring a suitcase and I’ll want that tan topcoat Della left here. Tell him to rush. We’ve got to make it fast if we pull the stunt I have in mind.”
“What stunt do you have in mind?” Drake asked, reaching for the telephone.
Mason grinned, “Do you want to know?”
“Hell no,” Drake said hastily. He spun the dial with nervous fingers.
Chapter 21
Jerry Lando, tall, athletic, good-natured, but with a devil-may-care glint in his dark eyes, put his suitcase in the corner and said, “Okay, Mr. Drake, I have my car downstairs. It’s full of gas and I’m ready for anything.”
“You know Mr. Mason?” Drake asked. “Perry Mason, the lawyer?”
“How are you, Mr. Mason,” Lando said, shaking hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” and then grinning, he added, “and read a lot about you.”
“You’re going to read more,” Mason told him. “We’re paving the way for a story in tomorrow morning’s papers.”
“What do we do?” Lando asked.
Mason said, “We go to an automobile court. We pick one where the arrangement of the cabins is just the way I want it. Then you put on this tan topcoat. Let’s see how it fits.”
Mason held the topcoat. Lando put his arms in the sleeves, pulled it up over his shoulders.
“Just like my own coat,” Lando said.
Mason said, “Paul, get your photographers. Have them bring press cameras, flash guns and lots of bulbs. How soon can you have them here?”
“Oh, give me an hour.”
“I’ll give you thirty minutes,” Mason told him. “I’ll phone in instructions. Come on, Lando, let’s go.”
Lando picked up his suitcase.
Mason slipped the strap of the big camera case over his shoulder.
“Have a heart, Perry,” Drake pleaded. “I can’t get these men on the job...”
“Thirty minutes is the deadline,” Mason said. “Come on, Lando.”
They started through the door.
Drake said hastily, “Remember you’re working out of this office, Jerry. Don’t let this guy get you in any trouble.”
“As far as I’m concerned,” Lando said, “when I’m with Mr. Mason, I’m acting under my attorney’s advice.”
At the elevator, the night janitor looked at Mason in open-mouthed surprise. “Why I thought you... Why you were supposed to have sneaked out...”
“Nonsense,” Mason said. “I was working late.”
“But you... you weren’t in your office.”
“Of course not,” Mason said. “I was in conference with Paul Drake.”