“Just a minute,” Mason said, “let me think.”
“You’d better think fast,” the man said. “We’re not out to frame anything on anybody, but unless this young lady can explain what her credit card was doing in the apartment with the murdered man she’s in trouble. If she can explain it, we’re perfectly willing to listen and to check on any leads she gives us.”
Mason said, “When was this man, Cassel, murdered?”
“Now, you’re asking questions,” the man said. “We’re the ones who are asking questions and we want some answers fast.”
Mason said, “If you want some answers fast, you’d better grab that man at the end of the hall who’s working down there with a hammer and chisel and find out where he fits into the picture.”
The man grinned and said, “Don’t worry, buddy, he’s one of our men. We’ve had this room under surveillance since early this morning, hoping that somebody would come in. We were sort of looking for a male accomplice. You triggered our visit.”
Mason said to Stella Grimes, “Show him your credentials, Stella.”
Stella Grimes reached for her purse.
“Now, take it easy, you two,” one of the officers said, “nothing fast or there’s going to be a lot of trouble. Just hand me your purse, sister, and I’ll look in it first.”
She handed him the purse. He looked through it, then handed it back to her and said, “Okay, pull out your credentials.”
Stella Grimes pulled out her license as a private detective.
Mason said, “For your information, I’m baiting a trap myself. Stella Grimes is a private detective, an employee of the Drake Detective Agency, and she’s been here masquerading as Diana Deering from San Francisco.”
The officer regarded the credentials thoughtfully. Then said, “And Diana Deering is an alias for Diana Douglas?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mason said.
“You didn’t have to.”
There was a moment of silence. Mason said, “I believe I have a professional obligation as an attorney and as a citizen to cooperate with the police in investigating serious charges.
“Since you apparently thought this was Diana Douglas I advised you as to her true identity and occupation. That’s as far as we’re going.”
“Why did you want a double?” the officer asked.
“No comment.”
“Anything to do with Moray Cassel?”
“No comment.”
“Now, look,” the officer said, “if this Diana Douglas happens to be your client — oh, oh, that’s the angle, Bill... Or is it?”
The officer addressed as Bill disgustedly pushed the credit card back in his pocket. “Well.” he said, “we’ve tipped our hand now.”
The other officer said to Mason, “Any attempt on your part to communicate with Diana Douglas will be considered as a hostile act by law-enforcement officers and may make you an accessory.”
Mason said to Stella Grimes, “Take the phone, Stella, put through a call for Diana Douglas.”
The officer called Bill threw a shoulder block and pushed her out of the way of the telephone. He picked up the phone, said to the operator, “This is a police emergency call. Get me police headquarters in San Francisco immediately.”
The second officer stood guard, protecting the telephone.
A moment later the officer at the telephone said, “This is the Los Angeles police, Bill Ardley talking. We want you to pick up a Diana Douglas for questioning. She works for the Escobar Import and Export Company. She has a BankAmerica credit card issued in her name... You folks gave us a tip that she was in Los Angeles at the Willatson Hotel, registered as Diana Deering. That’s a bum steer. She’s probably in San Francisco at the present time. Pick her up for questioning, and then notify us in Room Seven-sixty-seven at the Willatson Hotel... You got my name okay? This is Bill Ardley of— Oh, you know me, eh?... That’s right, I worked with you a year ago on that Smith case... Well, that’s fine. I’ll appreciate anything you can do. Get on this immediately, will you? And when you pick her up ask her first rattle out of the box where her BankAmerica credit card is. If she says she lost it, find out when she lost it... Okay. G’by.”
The officer depressed the connecting lever with his finger rapidly several times until he got the hotel operator. Then he said, “This is the Los Angeles police, operator. Put this phone out of service until we stop by the switchboard and give you instructions to the contrary. We’ll take all incoming calls. No outgoing calls, no matter who makes the call, unless it’s identified as being police business. You got that? Okay.”
The officer hung up the telephone, settled himself spraddle-legged across one of the straight-back chairs. “Okay, my lawyer friend,” he said, “now suppose you start doing a little talking.”
“On the other hand, suppose I don’t,” Mason said.
“We wouldn’t like that,” the officer said.
“Start not liking it, then,” Mason said. “I’m leaving.”
“Oh, no, you aren’t! Not for a while.”
“Do I take it,” Mason asked, “that you’re intending to hold us here?”
The officer smiled affably, nodded. “I’m going to do the best I can.”
“Now, that might not be very smart,” Mason said. “If you put me under arrest you’re laying yourself open for suit for unlawful arrest, and this young woman is—”
“Take it easy,” the officer interrupted. “I’m making this play for your own good. You may thank me for it later — both of you.”
“That credit card,” Mason said, “is that a clue in the murder?”
The officer said, “What do you think of the Dodgers’ chances this year?”
“Pretty good,” Mason said.
“Now then,” the officer went on, “we’d like to know when was the last time you saw Diana Douglas, what you talked about at that time, and what you told her.”
“You know I can’t betray the confidence of a client,” Mason said. “What do you think of the Dodgers’ chances?”
“Pretty good,” the officer said. He turned to Stella Grimes. “You don’t have any professional immunity,” he said. “You’re a private detective, you have a license. You have to cooperate with the police. What brought you here?”
Stella Grimes looked helplessly at Mason.
“He’s right,” Mason said, “tell him.”
She said, “Mr. Mason telephoned the Drake Detective Agency where I work and asked for me to come over here and go under the name of Diana Deering, and if anyone asked for me at the desk using the code figures thirty-six twenty-four thirty-six I was to answer.”
“Anybody come?” the officer asked.
Again she looked at Mason.
“Tell him,” Mason said. “You’re a witness. He’s investigating a homicide.”
She said, “A man came here and acted rather peculiarly.”
“In what way?”
“He acted as if he might be trying to put across some sort of a blackmail scheme.”
“And what did you tell him?”
She said, “I didn’t tell him anything. I let Mr. Mason do the talking.”
“And what did Mr. Mason tell him?”
“I wouldn’t know. I left the room. I got a signal to act as Mr. Mason’s girl friend who had been enjoying a rendezvous in the hotel and I went over to him, kissed him, and walked out.”
“Leaving Mason and this man alone?”
“Yes.”
“What did the man look like?”
“He was about — well, in his middle thirties. He had slick, black hair and was — well groomed. His trousers were creased. His shoes were shined, his nails manicured.”
The officer frowned. “Did that man give you any name?” he asked.
Again she looked at Mason.