“Oh-oh!” Mason said. “What happened then?”
“She went upstairs, and wasn’t gone very long. That’s one thing the detective is kicking himself about. He doesn’t know just how long.”
“Why not?”
“He presumed, of course, she’d be up there some time, and he went across the street, and about halfway down the block, to a restaurant to telephone. He telephoned Drake, and made his report. Drake had told him to telephone you here. He put through the call to me here, and while I was talking with him, he happened to see the blonde walking past. So he hung up and dashed out after her. About five minutes later, he called up from the depot, says she’s sitting there waiting for the midnight train to Los Angeles, and that she’s been crying.”
“Where’s the detective?”
“Still at the depot. He’s keeping her shadowed. That train is a chug-chug that carries a Pullman up to the main line, where it lays over four hours, gets picked up by a main-line train, and gets into Los Angeles about eight in the morning.”
“This detective can’t tell exactly how long she was up in the apartment?”
“No. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. It might have been less. According to what he says, he thought it was a good chance to put through a telephone call and report. Naturally, he expected her to be up there for some little time... You know, when a girl has keys to a man’s apartment... the detective assumed... that he’d have lots of time to telephone.”
Mason looked at his watch, said, “I may have time to talk with her. I’ll go down to the depot and see if I can accomplish anything.”
“Did you see Milter?”
“Not yet.”
“A car drove away right after you left — within two or three minutes. I think it was Witherspoon. He’s probably trying to locate Lois.”
“Try to find out definitely, will you?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll beat it down to the depot. G’by.”
Mason drove directly to the depot. He heard a train whistle when he was three blocks away. As he parked his car, the train was just pulling into the depot.
Mason walked around the station platform just in time to see the blond girl whom he had last seen in Allgood’s office stepping aboard the car. For a moment, the light from the station fell full on her face, and there was no mistaking her identity, nor that she had been crying.
Mason returned to his automobile and had proceeded three or four blocks from the depot when he heard the sound of a siren. On the cross street a block away, a police car swept past the intersection.
At the intersection, Mason found the car had turned in the direction of Milter’s apartment. Mason followed along behind, saw the police car swing over to the curb, and come to an abrupt stop.
Mason parked his own car directly behind the police car. An officer jumped out and hurried across the cement walk to the door which led to Milter’s apartment. Mason was right behind him.
The officer pressed a broad thumb against the bell, then turned and saw Mason.
Mason returned the officer’s stare for a moment, then turned sheepishly, and started down the steps.
“Hey, you!” the officer called.
Mason stopped.
“What did you want?” the officer asked.
“I wanted to call on someone.”
“Who?”
Mason hesitated.
“Go ahead, let’s have it.”
“Mr. Milter.”
“You know him?”
Mason, choosing his words carefully, said, “I have never met him.”
“You want in, huh?”
“Yes. I wanted to see him.”
“You been here before?”
Mason waited once more for just the right interval before saying, “Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“What did you do?”
“Rang the bell.”
“What happened?”
“I didn’t get any answer.”
The officer pressed the bell again, said, “Stick around. I think I’m going to want to talk with you.”
He crossed over to an apartment marked MANAGER, and pressed the bell.
A light in one of the lower rooms came on. They could hear the sound of bare feet on the floor; then after a few moments, the shuffle of slippered feet coming down the corridor. The door opened a crack, and a woman somewhere in the forties with a dressing gown wrapped around her frowned at Mason with cold inhospitality. Then seeing the light glinting from the shield and brass buttons on the officer’s uniform, she became instantly cordial.
“Was there something I could do for you?” she asked.
“You got a man here named Milter?”
“Yes. He’s in the apartment over...”
“I know where he is. I want to get in.”
“Have you tried his bell?”
“Yes.”
“I... if he’s home...”
“I want in,” the officer repeated. “Give me a pass key.”
She seemed undecided for only a moment, then said, “Just a minute.”
She vanished into the dark interior of the house. The officer said to Mason, “What did you want to see him about?”
“I wanted to ask him a few questions.”
A radio playing somewhere in the lower floor gave forth four quick bursts of static. The officer said, “Do you live here?”
Mason gave him one of his cards. “I’m a lawyer from Los Angeles.”
The officer twisted around, held the card so the light from the interior of the hallway fell on it, and said, “Oh, you’re Perry Mason, the lawyer, huh? I’ve read about some of your cases. What are you doing down here?”
“Taking a trip,” Mason said.
“You come to call on Milter?”
Mason managed to give his laugh just the right shade of expression. “I hardly came all the way down here just to see Milter.”
“Hey, you,” the officer called down the corridor to the manager, “we can’t wait all night for that key.”
“Just a minute. I’m trying to find it.”
During the short period of silence which followed, Mason heard the metallic click of a telephone receiver being dropped into its cradle. “Considering the noise made on the radio when she dialed Milter’s telephone,” Mason chuckled, “she’s going to a lot of trouble to keep us from knowing what she’s doing.”
“Hey,” the officer shouted, “cut out that phoning. Get me the key, or I’m coming after it.”
They heard the slippered feet again, shuffling rapidly along the corridor. “I had a hard time finding it,” the manager lied. “Would you let me have your name, please — just in case there’s any trouble.”
“Haggerty,” the officer said, taking the key.
Mason walked across the porch, waiting while the officer fitted the key to the door, then said, “Well, I won’t go up with you. The matter I wanted to see him about wasn’t important.”
He turned and started away. The officer let him take two steps before he called, “Hey, wait a minute! I’m not so certain about that.”
“About what?”
“That what you wanted to see him about wasn’t important.”
“I don’t get you?”
“Why do you suppose I’m getting this pass key?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“A little while ago some jane telephoned the desk and said that something was wrong up here. Know anything about that?”
“No.”
“Know who that woman might have been who telephoned?”
“No.”
“You just come along, anyway,” the officer said. “Stick along with me for a minute. I want to take a gander up here, and maybe that’s all there’ll be to it. Maybe you’ll have some questions to answer.”
He led the way up the stairs, Mason following docilely along behind.