“We stalled around for a while,” Mason said, “and, unfortunately, he made me.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He knew who I was. He recognized me from the photographs he had seen in the papers from time to time.”
“Is that bad?” she asked.
“It may be good,” Mason said. “I think he was just a little frightened... I just wanted to tell you to sit tight until you hear from me. It’s very important that you keep under cover.”
“I should be — well, shouldn’t I be getting my ticket back to San Francisco? And the banks will be closed here.”
“We can’t hurry this now,” Mason said. “There may be developments. Wait a few minutes — or up to an hour — until I have a chance to join you. Don’t try to leave that room until I give you a signal that everything’s in the clear.”
7
Mason stretched out in Room 767 at the Willatson Hotel. Despite himself he couldn’t refrain from glancing at his wristwatch every few minutes. Twice he got up and paced the floor.
The phone rang.
Mason snatched up the instrument. “Yes?” he said.
Diana Douglas’ voice said, “Mr. Mason, I’m frightened. Can I come down there and wait where I can be with you?”
“Definitely not,” Mason said. “Sit where you are. I’ll have instructions for you soon.”
“What do you mean by soon?”
“I hope within a few minutes.”
“I’m getting the heebie jeebies sitting here all by myself, Mr. Mason, just looking at the walls and... well, I feel that we aren’t accomplishing anything this way.”
“We’re accomplishing a lot more than you realize,” Mason said, “and it’s imperative that you follow instructions. Just sit tight.”
The lawyer hung up the telephone, walked over to the window, looked down at the street, came back to his chair, settled himself; then abruptly got up and started pacing the floor.
The doorknob suddenly turned. The door opened and Stella Grimes walked into the room.
“Any luck?” Mason asked.
“Lots of it,” she said, tossing a cardboard box on the bed.
Mason raised his eyebrows.
“Clothes,” she said. “I picked up a few necessities at the department store because I felt I might have to ride herd on this room. I just snatched up some things and had them wrapped up because I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“What happened?”
“Well,” she said, “I got your signal all right. You wanted him followed.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, of course, he knew me by sight. That complicated the job. I felt that the chances that he was living here in the hotel were rather slim. So I went down to the curb, hired a taxicab, and told the driver to just sit there until I told him I wanted to take off.
“Well, it was absurdly simple, so simple in fact that I feel that perhaps it may have been a frame.”
“What happened?”
“Our man had his own car, a Cadillac. He had given the doorman a substantial tip to park it for a few minutes in the loading zone. It must have been a pretty good-sized tip because when he came out the doorman was all attention. He ran over and held the car door open for Cassel and bowed his thanks as Cassel drove off.”
“You followed?”
“That’s right.”
“Get the license number?”
She took a notebook from her pocket and read off the license number, “WVM five-seven-four.”
“Could you tail him?” Mason asked.
“It was easy. He went to the Tallmeyer Apartments. Drove right into the garage in the basement of the apartment house and didn’t come out.”
“So what did you do?” Mason asked.
“I had my taxi driver drive three blocks to where a car was pulling out from the curb. I said, ‘Follow that car but don’t let him know he’s being followed.’ ”
“Good work,” Mason said.
“Well, of course, this driver got mixed up in traffic. We lost out on a traffic signal and I shrugged my shoulders and said, ‘Well, that’s the best we can do.’ Paid off the cab and took another one and came back here to the hotel. I didn’t want the cab driver giving me a double cross and tipping Cassel off, and, as it is, he thinks I’m some sort of a nut. At least, I hope he does.”
Mason picked up the phone, said to the operator, “Give me an outside line,” then gave the number of the Drake Detective Agency.
“Paul in?” he asked the switchboard operator.
“He just came in, Mr. Mason,” she said, recognizing his voice.
“Put him on, will you please?”
Drake’s voice came on the line, “Hello.”
“Perry Mason, Paul.”
“Where are you?”
“At the Willatson Hotel with Stella Grimes. She’s back now.”
“Doing any good?”
“I think we’ve struck pay dirt. I want to find out the owner of a Cadillac automobile, license number WVM five-seven-four, and if the owner lives at the Tallmeyer Apartments I’d like to try to find out a little bit about him without doing anything that would arouse suspicion.”
Drake said, “Della was asking if it’s all right to call you.”
“She’d best not,” Mason said. “I’ll call the office from time to time and see if there’s anything important. Was there something in particular on her mind?”
“I don’t think so, except that you had a few appointments she had to get you out of with a story about you being called out of town on important business.”
“I think that’s just what’s going to happen,” Mason said.
“On the square?”
“On the square... How long will it take you to find out about that car registration?”
“I can have that right quick.”
“I’ll call back,” Mason said. “Get on it as fast as you can.”
“How’s Stella doing?” Drake asked.
“Fine,” Mason said.
“Okay, if you want anything, just put in a call. It’ll cost you money, but you’ll get the service.”
“Will do,” Mason said, and hung up.
“Gosh, that guy was mad,” Stella said. “You really must have pinned his ears back!”
Mason grinned. “How did you know he was mad, Stella?”
“The way he walked, the way he looked, and the way he left himself wide open.”
“I guess he was disappointed,” Mason said. “He was expecting a soft touch.”
“I’ll bet he thought he’d run full speed into a brick wall instead,” she observed. “He certainly was one very mad citizen.”
The lawyer looked at his wristwatch. “Hold the fort a minute, Stella,” he said. “I’m going down the hall. If anything should happen that would complicate the situation hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside of the door. If Paul Drake phones while I’m down there tell him to call me in that room.”
Mason walked down to Room 789 and tapped on the door.
Diana Douglas threw the door open.
“Don’t do that!” Mason said.
“Do what?”
“Be so eager,” Mason said. “Don’t open that door until you find out who it is.”
“I’m all on edge,” she said. “I sit here and thoughts are running through my head. I just can’t take this waiting game, Mr. Mason.”
Mason said, “Listen very carefully, Diana. How much money do you have?”
“I told you, five thousand dollars.”
“That isn’t what I meant. I want to know how much you have outside of that.”
“I drew out six hundred dollars from my savings account when I left. I wanted to have enough to give you a retainer and—”
“The money that you gave me didn’t come out of the five thousand dollars then?”
“No.”
“You don’t have any idea on earth what this is all about? I want you to be frank, now.”