“What did you do?”
“Didn’t do nothin’. I just went right ahead doin’ what I’d been doin’ all the time. It was good plain food. They could eat it or go hungry. I didn’t give a hoot.”
“Did Mosher Higley ever ask you to try and cook what they wanted?”
“Hell no. Mosher Higley knew me a damn sight better than that. One crack out of him like that I’d of been gone.”
“After all of those years of service?”
“I didn’t owe him nothin’ and he didn’t owe me nothin’. We got along together, that’s all. He couldn’t get anybody else that would put up with him, and I couldn’t get any other job, not at my age.”
“How did it happen that Nadine Farr came to live with Mosher Higley?”
“He sent for her.”
“You told me that before. Why did he send for her?”
“To give her a home.”
“Why did he want to give her a home?”
“Ask him.”
“I can’t. He’s dead. I’m asking you.”
“He knew her mother somehow and don’t ask me how or when because I ain’t one to talk about things like that.”
“Any chance that Nadine Farr was his daughter?”
“How the hell would I know?”
“I thought you might have known. You say that he knew Nadine’s mother?”
“Well, I didn’t follow him around with a flashlight when he went out nights.”
Mason said, “The police seem to feel that the circumstances surrounding Higley’s death should be reopened. They’ll probably be in touch with you.”
“Well, I guess they got a right to if they want.”
“Did Mrs. Newburn or Mr. Newburn go into the kitchen when they visited the house that day?”
“Them folks go into the kitchen? Hell no. They might go in there to snoop around and make some catty remarks. That Mrs. Newburn has the damnedest forefinger you ever saw in your life. She’ll go around runnin’ that forefinger along a window sill or under the bottom of a table or somethin’, bring it out with a little dust on it and stick it out like she’s discovered a corpse or somethin’.”
“Did she ever say anything to you?”
“Hell no. She knew better than to say anythin’ to me.”
“Did you say anything to her?”
“Hell no. I just let her stick out her finger. It was her finger. She could stick it out all she wanted. She’d rub it around, get a little dust on it, poke it out at me like she’d proved somethin’. I’d just look at it, wouldn’t say a word.”
“But you don’t think she went out in the kitchen that day?”
“Well... she could’ve. I don’t rightly remember. Anyhow, then she went up and seen Mosher. Then her husband went up and seen Mosher. Then Jackson went out and drove around some place, and then he came back and picked her up. I know he went out in the kitchen, just in and back. Seems he was lookin’ for Nadine for somethin’ or other. Then he went upstairs. He was up with Mosher about ten minutes, handin’ out a line. They didn’t give a damn for Mosher but wanted to be certain that he didn’t change his will none. They’d pour it on him like honey on hot cakes.”
“Well,” Mason said, “I just wanted to find out the facts. Thanks ever so much.”
Cap’n Hugo eased his lanky figure up out of the chair.
“Reckon you and that other feller got your ten bucks’ worth?”
Mason smiled. “I reckon we have.”
“Okay then,” Cap’n Hugo said. “I won’t have to come back. We’re square. I don’t owe you nothin’ and you don’t owe me nothin’. Good-by.”
Chapter Ten
For more than an hour after Cap’n Hugo had left the office Mason paced the floor, waiting.
From time to time Della Street glanced at her watch. At length she said, “Does a working girl get any chance to eat? It seems to me something was said about food.”
Mason, without interrupting the rhythm of his pacing, said, “We may have to get food sent in. I’d like to hear from Dr. Denair before the police contact him, and I simply have to reach Nadine Farr. How do you suppose John Locke knew where she was, Della?”
“She must have phoned him as soon as I left. That girl’s an enigma, Perry, but I sensed she had something on her mind.”
Drake’s code knock sounded on the door. Della let him in.
“Getting nervous?” Drake said, sliding into his favorite position in the big leather chair.
“He’s been biting his fingernails right down to the elbow,” Della Street said.
“How are you coming, Paul?” Mason asked.
“Well, I’ve got a lot of men out now.”
“Can you find Nadine Farr?”
“I’m hoping to have a line on her at any minute,” Drake said.
Mason frowned. “You should have had her by this time. It’s a broad trail to follow. She left the High-Tide Motel with John Locke and—”
“How do you know she went out with John Locke?” Drake interrupted.
“Don’t be silly,” Mason said. “The manager told me so. Locke came and asked for her cabin. She watched them go out. The girl hadn’t had anything to eat. It’s a cinch they went to dinner somewhere. You should be able to locate the places that Locke was in the habit of patronizing.”
“That’s all very fine,” Drake said, “but your facts are jumbled.”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t go out with John Locke.”
“She didn’t!” Mason exclaimed.
Drake said, “I’ll give you a piece of information that may jar you a bit. The manager of the motel says that the man who called for her was driving a two-tone Olds. She thought they turned in at a gas station on the next corner. I checked with the gas station attendant. Naturally he can’t remember all the cash sales but I checked on sales where the customer had used a credit card and I find that at just about the time Nadine Farr checked out, Jackson Newburn was buying gas on a credit card at that station. I—”
The phone rang.
Drake said, “I left your unlisted number with my operator, Perry. I hope it’s all right. I—”
Della Street, answering the telephone, nodded to Paul Drake. “For you, Paul.”
Drake took the telephone, said, “Hello,” listened for a minute then said, “Where is he now?... Wait a minute. Hang on to the line.”
Drake turned to Mason. “Officers are crawling all over the place, Perry,” the detective said. “A couple of men from the Homicide Squad are watching the apartment where John Avington Locke lives. A couple more are watching the house where Mosher Higley died — that’s where Nadine Farr is living at the present time. My men found out that John Locke frequently ate at a little place known as The Smoked Pheasant out on Sunset. I told them to check the place. John Locke is in there eating.”
“Alone?” Mason asked.
“Alone,” Drake said. “Now then, if Locke leaves there and drives home he’ll walk right into the arms of the police. The point is, do you want to see him first?”
“You’re damn right I want to see him first.”
“Okay,” Drake told him, “you’d better get out there. He’s twenty-six, wearing a pepper-and-salt tweed suit, cordovan shoes, no hat, reddish-brown hair a little high at the forehead.”
“I’m on my way,” Mason said. “Tell your operative to keep him covered.”
Drake said into the telephone, “Perry Mason will be out there. He’ll get in touch with you. You know Mason from his pictures. Keep an eye out for him. Don’t let the subject know he’s under surveillance or let him see you talking to Mason.”