Drake hung up, held an open notebook in his hand and said, “I have a lot of stuff you should know before you go out there, Perry.”
Mason, headed for the hat closet, called back over his shoulder, “There isn’t time, Paul. I’ll have to get moving.”
“Well,” Drake said, “I know now what it’s all about. I know the hold that Higley had over Nadine Farr. I know all about Nadine’s past and—”
“And do you know why she picked this particular time to go out with Jackson Newburn?” Mason asked.
Drake said, “That I don’t know.”
“Mrs. Newburn thinks she has the answer,” Mason told him. “I laughed at her when she told me. Right now I’m not so sure. Mrs. Newburn comes in to see me and while she’s gone Nadine phones Mrs. Newburn’s husband. Mrs. Newburn goes home. Her husband isn’t there. Naturally she’s trying to find out where he is. If she finds out she’s very apt to do something about it. The police are looking for Nadine. If they find Jackson Newburn with her there’ll be pictures published in the papers and the devil to pay.”
“I know,” Drake said. “I’m doing the best I can trying to locate her for you before the police can spot her.”
Mason took his hat from the hook, turned to Della Street. “Want to come, Della?”
“Do I!”
“Let’s go!”
Drake heaved himself up out of the chair, said, “I’m pounding away on this thing, Perry. What happens if I find Nadine before the police do?”
“Get her out of circulation.”
“That might be risky.”
“Then get in touch with me,” Mason said.
“And where will I find you?”
“I’ll be telephoning you from time to time. Come on, Della.”
They switched out lights in the office, latched the door and hurried down to the elevator.
Drake paused in front of his office door. “I suppose it won’t do a damn bit of good to warn you to be careful, Perry.”
Mason pushed the button on the elevator. “I can’t be careful now, Paul. They’ve dragged me into this thing. Wait until you see how Hamilton Burger smears me in the newspapers. I’m in now and I’ve got to work my way out.”
The elevator cage slid to a stop. Drake said rapidly, “I wish there was time to give you some of this important information, Perry.”
“So do I,” Mason said as the door opened.
“You’ll be calling me?”
“From time to time,” Mason promised.
He and Della entered the elevator, said nothing further until they were ensconced in Mason’s car, driving out toward Hollywood.
“You think Hamilton Burger will smear you in the papers?” Della asked.
“Oh, not Hamilton Burger,” Mason said with elaborate sarcasm. “It’s unethical for an attorney to use the papers to prejudice public opinion. Oh, Hamilton Burger wouldn’t think of doing anything like that! Hamilton Burger will be very ethical. He will probably even refuse to make any comment for fear of violating professional ethics.
“But the police, showing an almost clairvoyant understanding of what Hamilton Burger would have said if he had been free to make any statements, will give the press plenty of information. On the other hand, an attorney representing a defendant doesn’t have anyone to make statements on his behalf. He’s hooked.”
“You mean to say you can’t even make a denial to the press?” she asked.
“Denials won’t do much good,” Mason told her.
“Then I don’t know what would help,” Della Street said.
Mason said, “That bottle with the harmless tablets and the shot in it didn’t get into Twomby’s Lake of its own accord. Somebody threw it in there. Before we get done we’re going to have to prove who did throw it in there, otherwise—”
“Otherwise?” she prompted as his voice trailed off into silence as he braked to a stop at a traffic signal.
“Otherwise I’m stuck with it,” Mason said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Mason said, “Let’s take inventory, Della. We have Nadine Farr, who has confessed to having poisoned Mosher Higley, feeling at the moment that she’s completely out of all of her difficulties. She’s out somewhere with Jackson Newburn. She’ll tell him about the most recent developments and neither one of them will know that the police are looking for them. We have Dr. Denair completely out of touch with developments. We have Mrs. Jackson Newburn hating Nadine Farr with a deep and bitter hatred and somewhat suspicious that her husband may be becoming entangled in the fatal web of Nadine’s charm. We have the police frantically looking for Nadine, and we have John Locke apparently oblivious of all of these more recent developments.”
“Why do you say apparently oblivious?” Della Street asked.
“Because,” Mason said, “someone who had a rather clever mind decided to help Nadine Farr by putting harmless pills in a bottle filled with shot and tossing it out into Twomby’s Lake. Thinking that I had that bright idea the police won’t look any farther, but since I know I didn’t do it, I’m naturally looking for the man who did, and until I can size up John Locke I’m not putting it past him.”
“Suppose he did do it?” Della Street asked.
“Then,” Mason said, “the important thing is to get him to admit that he did it and see that the story as run in the newspapers is sufficiently dramatic to make the front page.”
“Which is why we’re in such a hurry to get to John Locke?”
“Which is one of the reasons we’re in such a hurry to get to John Locke.”
Thereafter they drove in silence until Mason found a parking place for the car near The Smoked Pheasant.
Mason took Della Street’s arm, walked down the sidewalk, passed the café once, turned around and started back.
A man standing by the doorway struck a match to light a cigarette. The flame illuminated his features.
“Mason,” he said under his breath.
Mason paused.
“Keep walking,” the man said. “I’ll join you.”
Mason and Della Street walked down the sidewalk. The man came along from behind, looked over his shoulder, then fell into step at Mason’s side.
“Is he in there?” Mason asked.
“Still there.”
“Any sign of police?”
“Not yet. I thought you might be hot and—”
“I am,” Mason said, “but they don’t know it yet. What’s he doing?”
“Just finishing his dessert. He’ll be coming out pretty quick. That’s why I got out ahead of him.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “Go back. Stand where you were. When he comes out light another cigarette.”
“You coming back now?”
“You go back first,” Mason said. “I’ll wait outside.”
The operative turned and left them, took up his station in front of the café. Mason and Della Street turned slowly back.
Della Street sniffed the air. “I’ll bet that café has darned good cooking,” she said.
Mason nodded. “Smells like it.”
“Couldn’t we go in and eat something and ask him to join us?”
Mason shook his head.
“Why?”
“Drake’s man found out he frequently ate here. The police can dig up that same information. They may show up at any minute. Here he comes now!”
The door opened. A young man stepped out, looked up the street, turned toward Della Street and Perry Mason. The detective in the doorway struck a match, held the flame to his cigarette.