“All right,” Holcomb said, “let’s quit playing ring-around-the-rosy. This is murder. Who was the client?”
Mason shook his head and said, “That information is confidential.”
“You can’t withhold that,” Holcomb told him. “You’ll become an accessory, if you try to protect a murderer.”
“This man wasn’t a murderer,” Mason said.
“How do you know?”
“I know. Furthermore, he’s my client. I don’t have to divulge the names of my clients to anyone.”
“You can’t withhold evidence.”
“I’m not withholding any evidence. As soon as I entered the room, I found a body. As soon as I found the body, I notified you.”
The clerk said, “Excuse me, Sergeant, but this man standing here is the client.”
Sgt. Holcomb said disdainfully, “Don’t be silly. That guy’s the private detective who does Mason’s investigative work. Mason called him in after he knew there’d been a murder.”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” the clerk protested, “but that isn’t true in this case.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s the man who got the key to the room in the first place. His secretary registered for him. He’s been in several times asking for messages.”
Sgt. Holcomb turned to Paul Drake. “Hey! Wait a minute! Wait a minute! What’s all this?”
Paul Drake said, “The guy’s nuts!”
“What’s your name?” Holcomb asked the clerk.
“Bob King.”
“All right. Now, what’s this about the room?”
“It was rented about two o’clock. A young woman came to the desk and said she was the secretary of Gerald Boswell, that Boswell wanted to have a suite in the hotel for one day, that he would appear later, and go to the suite, but that she wanted to inspect it and make sure it was okay, that since she had no baggage, she would pay the rent in advance and take the keys. She asked for two keys.”
“Say,” Holcomb said, “you’re giving out a hell of a lot of valuable information.”
“Well, you asked for it. What’s valuable about it?”
Holcomb jerked his head toward Mason. “He’s drinking it in.”
“Well, you asked me.”
“All right. Now shut up... Wait a minute. Tell me about Paul Drake here.”
“He showed up about six-thirty, asked for a message, gave the name of Boswell, and I went through the file and gave him an envelope.”
“An envelope containing a key?” Holcomb asked.
“Perhaps the key was in it, but as I remember it now, and it’s beginning to come back to me, it was a big, heavy manila envelope, thick, and jammed with papers.”
“And it was Paul Drake here who got the letter?”
“I think so... Yes, this was the man.”
“Then what did he do?”
“Went up to the suite. I didn’t pay much attention. He seemed quiet and respectable, and the suite was paid for in advance.”
Holcomb whirled to Paul Drake and said, “What about this?”
Drake hesitated.
“I can answer for Paul Drake,” Mason said. “I think there has been a case of mistaken identity.”
“The hell there has!” Sgt. Holcomb said. “Drake went up there on some kind of job for you! This girl got herself bumped off in his room, and he sent out an SOS for you. He didn’t stay in the suite, did he?” Holcomb asked the clerk.
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention. He came back this second time and asked for messages. That was when I had occasion to look at him particularly, because these two gentlemen were together and I asked this man, who you say is Mr. Drake but who gave me the name of Boswell, if I hadn’t already given him a message.”
Sgt. Holcomb said to Drake, “We may not be able to make Mason kick through with the name of a client, but we can sure as hell make a private detective tell what he knows about a murder or bust him wide open.”
Mason said, “I tell you, Sergeant, it’s a case of mistaken identification.”
“Phooey!” Holcomb said. “I’m going up and take a look at the place. We’ll have a fingerprint man up there. If we find your prints and—”
“We were up there,” Mason said. “No one questions that. That’s where we discovered the body.”
“Drake with you?”
“Yes.”
“You came in together?”
“That’s right.”
“What about the story King tells about Drake going to the desk and asking for messages?”
“That part of it is true,” Mason said. “We had reason to believe the suite was registered in the name of Boswell, and Drake, acting purely in an investigative capacity, asked if there were any messages for Boswell. He never said he was Boswell.”
Sgt. Holcomb said, “This thing sounds fishy as hell to me. You two stick around. I’m going up. Remember now, don’t leave. I want to question you further.”
Holcomb strode toward the elevator.
Mason turned to Paul Drake, said, “Get on the phone, Paul. Start locating more operatives. I want half a dozen men and a couple of good-looking women, if I can get them.”
“You can get them,” Drake said, “but, if you don’t mind my asking the question, just what the hell do you intend to do?”
“Protect my client, of course,” Mason told him.
“I mean about me,” Drake said.
“I’m going to get you off the hook,” Mason told him.
“How?”
“By letting you tell everything you know.”
“But I know the name of your client.”
“I can’t keep him out of it,” Mason said. “He’s walked into a trap. All I can hope to do now is to gain time.”
“How much time?”
“A few hours.”
“What can you do in that time?” Drake asked.
“I don’t know until I try,” Mason said. “Get on the phone and line up some good operatives. Have them at your office. Come on, Paul. Let’s go!”
Drake went to the telephone booth.
Mason lit a cigarette, paced the floor of the lobby thoughtfully.
A deputy coroner, carrying a black bag, two plain-clothes men, and a police photographer loaded with cameras and flashbulbs entered the hotel.
Sgt. Holcomb came back down as Drake finished with his telephoning.
“All right,” Holcomb said. “What do you know about this?”
“Only what we’ve told you,” Mason said. “We went to that room. We entered it. We found a corpse. We called you.”
“I know, I know,” Holcomb said. “But how did you happen to go to that room in the first place?”
“I was acting on behalf of a client.”
“All right. Who’s the client?”
“I can’t tell you the name of my client until I get his permission.”
“Then get his permission.”
“I will, but I can’t get it now. I’ll get it first thing in the morning.”
“Well, you can’t hold out on us in a case like this. It’s one thing being an attorney, and another thing to be an accessory.”
“I’m not trying to hold out,” Mason said. “I can’t betray the confidences of my client. My client will have to speak for himself. I need time to get in touch with him.”
“Tell me who he is and we’ll let him speak for himself.”
Mason shook his head. “I can’t give you his name without his permission. I’ll have my client at the district attorney’s office at nine o’clock in the morning. My client will submit to questioning. I’ll be there. I’ll advise him as to his rights. I can tell you this, Sergeant: To the best of my client’s knowledge, there was no corpse in the suite when my client left it. I expected to meet someone there.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“This one who was killed?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, we want to talk with this guy, whoever he is.”