"I feel positive that she will."
"Did you say anything to your wife about the garage doors being open?"
"Yes," Montaine said; "from the kitchen window it's possible to look over to the garage. I called her attention to the garage doors when I was making the coffee."
"What did she say?"
"She said she didn't know anything about it at first, and then, later on, she said she 'remembered' that she had left her purse in her car and had locked up the garage. She said that just before she went to bed she remembered it and went out to get the purse."
"How did she get in if she didn't have her keys?"
"That's what I asked her," Montaine said. "You see, she's rather forgetful about her purse. She's left it around two or three times. Once she lost over a hundred dollars. And she keeps her keys in her purse. So I asked her how it happened she could have opened the door if her purse was locked in the car?"
"What did she say?"
"She said she got the extra key out of the desk."
"Did she seem to be lying?"
"No, she looked me straight in the eye and said it very convincingly."
Mason made drumming noises on the edge of his desk with the tips of his fingers. "Exactly what is it," he asked, "that you want me to do?"
"I want you to represent my wife," Montaine said. "I want you to promise me that you'll see to it she doesn't get herself into this thing trying to shield Doctor Millsap. That's first. The second thing I want is for you to protect my father."
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"How does he come into it?"
"It will kill him if our name is involved in a murder case. I want you to keep the Montaine name out of it just as much as possible. I want you to keep him… er… in the background."
"That," Mason said, "is rather a large order. What else is it you want me to do?"
"I want you to assist in prosecuting Millsap if it should turn out that he's guilty."
"Suppose the prosecution of Millsap should involve your wife?"
"Then, of course, you'd have to see that he wasn't prosecuted."
Mason stared steadily at Carl Montaine. "There's a pretty good chance," he said, with slow emphasis, "that the police may not know anything about this garage key. They'll check down the list of persons owning Plymouth and Chevrolet cars. But if they should find your name, go to your garage and find that there wasn't any padlock on it or find a different padlock, they might not even question you or your wife."
Montaine drew himself up once more. "The police," he said, "are going to know about it."
"What makes you so positive?" Mason inquired.
"Because," Montaine said, "I am going to tell them. It is my duty. I don't care if she is my wife, I can't conceal facts. I can't stand between her and the law."
"Suppose she's innocent?"
"Of course, she's innocent," Montaine flared. "That's what I'm telling you. It's this man, Millsap, that's guilty. You can put two and two together. She was out. He was out. Moxley was murdered. She'll try to protect him. He'll sell her out. The police must be notified and…"
"Look here, Montaine," Mason interrupted, "you're jealous. That makes your mental perspective cockeyed. You'd better forget Millsap. Go to your wife. Get her explanation. Don't say a word to the police until…"
Montaine got to his feet, stood very dignified and very reserved, his heroic manner marred somewhat by the mop of hair which was slumped down over his forehead. "The very thing Millsap would want," he said. "He has primed my wife with a lot of lies. She'd try to keep me from notifying the police. Then when the police did discover about the keys where would I be? No, Counselor, my mind is made up; I must maintain my integrity. I will be firm with my wife, firm but sympathetic. To Millsap I shall be an avenging fury."
"For God's sake," Mason exploded, "quit that damned posing and come down to earth. You've sympathized with yourself so much that you've gone goofy and built up a mock heroic attitude…"
Montaine interrupted, his face flushed. "That will do," he said with the forceful dignity of one who is saturated with selfrighteousness. "My mind is made up, Counselor. I am going to notify the police. I feel it is for the best interests of all concerned that I do so. Millsap can dominate my wife. He can't dominate the police."
"You'd better go easy on that Millsap business," Mason warned. "You haven't a thing against him."
"He was out—at the very time the murder was being committed."
"He may have been out on a call. If you insist on telling the police about your wife, that's one thing. But you start spilling stuff about Millsap and you'll find yourself in a jam."
"Very well," Montaine agreed, "I will think over what you say. In the meantime you will represent my wife. You may send me a bill for your services. And please don't forget about my father. I want you to protect him in every way you can."
"I can't divide my allegiance," Mason said grimly. "I'll represent your wife first. If Millsap gets in the way, he'll be smashed. I don't see where your father needs any protection. But if I'm going to represent your wife I'm not going to have my hands tied. What's more, I'm going to make your father come across with some coin. This business about 'sending a bill' doesn't sound good to me."
Montaine said slowly, "Of course, I can see how you feel… My wife must come first… that's the way I want it."
"Before your father?" asked Mason.
Montaine lowered his eyes, said very faintly, "If it comes to that, yes."
"Well, it won't come to that. Your father isn't mixed up in it. But he does control the purse strings. I'm going to make him pay me for what I do."
"He won't. He hates Rhoda. I'll get the money somewhere, somehow. He won't pay a cent."
"When are you going to notify the police?" Mason asked, changing the subject abruptly.
"Now."
"Over the telephone?"
"No. I'm going to see them personally."
Montaine turned toward the door, then, suddenly remembering something, spun about and approached Mason's desk with outstretched palm. "My key, Counselor," he said. "I almost forgot that."
Perry Mason heaved a sigh, picked up the key from the desk and reluctantly dropped it into Montaine's palm. "I wish," he said, "you'd hold off doing anything until…" But Montaine marched to the corridor door, his manner oozing selfrighteous determination.
Chapter 7
Perry Mason frowningly consulted his wristwatch jobbed on impatient thumb against the bell button. After the third ring he turned away from the door and looked at the houses on either side. He saw the surreptitious motion of lace curtains in the adjoining house. Mason gave the bell one more try, then, when he heard no response, crossed directly to the house where he had detected the flicker of interest back of the curtain.
His ring was followed almost immediately by the sound of clumping steps. The door opened and a fleshy woman stared at him with glittering, curious eyes. "You ain't a peddler?" she asked. Mason shook his head. "And if you were one of those college boys getting magazine subscriptions, you wouldn't wear a hat."
The lawyer let his smile become a grin.
"Well," she said in a voice that trickled effortlessly from the end of a glib tongue, "what is it?"
"I'm looking," said Perry Mason, "for Mrs. Montaine."
"She lives next door." Mason nodded, waiting. "Did you try over there?"
"You know I did. You were staring out at me from behind the curtain."
"Well, what if I was? I've got a right to look out of my own window, haven't I? Look here, my man, this is my house bought and paid for…"
Perry Mason laughed. "No offense," he said. "I'm trying to save time, that's all. You're a woman with an observing disposition. You saw me over at Montaine's. I'm wondering if, perhaps, you didn't see Mrs. Montaine when she left?"