“While you were under the influence of drugs you gave us a clue as to what it is that’s bothering you. Now perhaps if you’ll tell us the rest of it—”
She walked over to Dr. Denair, picked up his hand, looked pleadingly in his eyes. “Doctor,” she said, “could I have... could I have twenty-four hours to think it over? I—” And suddenly she began to cry.
Dr. Denair, on his feet, glanced meaningly at Mason and nodded. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, patted her reassuringly. “It’s all right, Nadine,” he said, “we’re your friends, and we’re only trying to help you. You’re carrying an emotional burden that no human being whose nervous system is as delicately balanced as yours can possibly hope to carry.”
She pushed herself away from him, grabbed her purse from the chair, opened it, took out a handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, said, “If you only knew how I hate crybabies. I guess that’s the first time I’ve cried in... well, I don’t know how long.”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Denair said kindly, “that’s one of the troubles. You’ve tried to be too self-sufficient, Nadine. You’ve tried to fight the world.”
“The world has fought me,” she said calmly. “May I go now?”
Dr. Denair said, “I’m going too, Nadine. You may ride with me.”
“I don’t want to ride with you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want any more questions right now.”
She started toward the door, then suddenly came back to give Perry Mason her hand. “I know you think I’m ungrateful,” she said. “I’m not. I think you’re... you’re grand.”
She smiled at Della Street. “And thank you so much for the sympathy in your eyes, Miss Street. I’m glad I met you people. I’m sorry I can’t explain — not right now.”
She turned and with head held high walked out of the office.
Dr. Denair shrugged his shoulders.
Mason said, “In her quiet way, back of that demure personality, she is one hell of a fighter.”
“You can say that again,” Della Street said.
“What’s your opinion now, Bert?” Mason asked Dr. Denair. “Do you think she could commit murder?”
“I wish I knew,” Dr. Denair said. “I’m supposed to know something about psychiatry, but this is one girl who has me stumped.”
Mason indicated the tape recorder. “Well,” he said, “keep that tape recording in a safe place.”
“And in the meantime what’s my legal status?” Dr. Denair asked.
Perry Mason thought that over. “Technically,” he said, “you’re vulnerable. Practically, you’re in the clear as long as you have come to me, are following my advice and we’re investigating the case and... and one other thing.”
“And what’s that other thing?” Dr. Denair asked.
“That no one else finds out about what’s in that tape recording,” Mason said.
Chapter Four
It was the day following Mason’s conversation with Dr. Denair and Nadine Farr that Della Street came hurrying into Mason’s private office.
Mason was in conference with a client at the time, but catching the urgency of Della Street’s half-surreptitious nod, he excused himself to the client and followed Della Street into the law library.
She motioned toward the telephone.
“Dr. Denair is on the line. He says it’s a major emergency, that I must get you at once. I told him I’d call you out of conference.”
Mason nodded, picked up the telephone and said, “Hello.”
“Perry,” Dr. Denair said, his voice crisply incisive and professionally businesslike, “please listen without interruption for a moment. Can you hear me?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“I’m afraid that confounded nurse of mine let the cat out of the bag. Thirty minutes ago, while I was out, officers appeared with a search warrant. They served it on Elsa Clifton. The search warrant specifically described a tape recording made by the patient in question in which she confessed to a murder. They demanded that the tape recording be surrendered.
“It is my personal opinion that they carefully timed their visit to coincide with my absence. I had not been gone over five minutes when the officers arrived. Elsa Clifton naturally was completely flabbergasted. She didn’t know what to do. She gave them everything they wanted.”
“The tape recording?” Mason asked.
“That’s right. They have it.”
“Where’s Nadine Farr?”
“Here with me. Now, Mason, the police are damned nasty about this thing. They told Elsa Clifton that I could be charged as an accessory after the fact and they intend to do something of the sort. I want you to protect my interests.”
“Tell Nadine to keep her mouth shut,” Mason said, “and you keep your mouth shut.”
“I see.”
“Now then,” Mason said, “I want you to get out of circulation for a little while. I want your patient out of circulation.”
“They’re coming for her.”
“Let them come. I have to talk with her before they take her. In the meantime I have something important to do. Does anyone know you’ve consulted me?”
“I don’t think so. There was no intimation that anyone possessed such knowledge.”
“Put that girl in a taxi,” Mason said. “Drive up here. Don’t get out of the taxicab. Della Street, my secretary, will be waiting at the curb. She’ll get in the cab with you and pilot you down to her apartment. Nadine Farr can stay with Della Street for a short time.”
“Couldn’t you go down there with us, Perry?” Dr. Denair asked. “I’d like to talk with you about—”
“You’ll talk with me later,” Mason said. “Wait down there.”
Mason hung up the telephone, turned to Della Street.
“Go into my office,” he said, “tell the client in there I was called out on a matter of major importance.
“Now get this, Della, because we’re going to have to cut things very, very fine. You go down and wait at the curb. Dr. Denair will be along presently in a taxicab. Nadine Farr will be with him. Jump in the cab with them, take them to your apartment^ wait there until you hear from me.”
“How long?”
“Until you hear from me.”
“Okay.”
“No one is to know where you are.”
She nodded. “But what about the office?”
“Let the office run itself. Gertie at the switchboard can take care of things, and Jackson, the law clerk, can handle routine matters. I’m going to be out of circulation until I join you at your apartment.”
Della Street regarded him speculatively. “You’ve evidently given that matter a little thought since yesterday.”
Mason said, “I’ve given it one hell of a lot of thought.”
He picked up his hat and went out.
Mason jumped in his car and eased the machine out into traffic. Carefully observing all speed regulations, doing nothing to make himself conspicuous, he drove out on the freeway, climbed up into the foothills back of Pasadena until he came to Twomby’s Lake.
A few fishermen were out on the lake in boats. Some boys were swimming near the boat landing.
Mason picked up a stone, walked out to the end of the boat landing and tossed the stone with an awkward overhand motion, the way a woman would throw an object. Then he walked back to the shore, sauntered along to where four boys were swimming and called them over to him.
“How would you boys,” he asked, “like to earn five dollars apiece?”
Their eyes glistened.
Mason took folded bills from his pocket, peeled off four five-dollar bills, gave one to each of the boys.
“Now then,” he said, “the one who finds what I want gets another twenty dollars.”
“Gee, mister, what do you want?”