Faulkner stepped to the door of the room, placed his eyes to the eyepiece of a portable periscope which had been so arranged that the opening projected slightly above the edge of the half-open transom.
“Room service,” he announced curtly, in a half-whisper. “A tray with a pot of coffee.”
Once more the knock was repeated. Then Faulkner said, tensely, “He’s trying the doorknob. Going in. Okay, he’s in the room now switching on the lights... There he goes.”
They heard the sound of a banging door, of steps running down the corridor.
“If they ever find out I’ve been there they’ll have my license for not reporting it,” Drake groaned.
“Who’s going to find out you were in there?”
Drake snorted, “Don’t be silly, we’re sewed up.”
“What do you mean?”
“That house detective,” Mason said, mournfully. “He’s got the deadwood. And right now they’re notifying the Homicide Squad. We couldn’t possibly get out of here without putting our necks in a noose. We’re trapped — right here in this room. We could stay here all right until the thing blew over, if it weren’t for the fact that when the police get to quizzing the house dick they’ll find out I had a man on this floor; that the house dick took twenty bucks to let him hide in the mop closet at the end of the corridor, and then put him in this room. That means the police will come here. We don’t dare to get out before they come, and when they do come we’re trapped.”
There was a moment of heavy silence. Then Mason moved over to the room telephone, picked it up and called a number.
“What’s the number?” Drake asked, suspiciously.
“Police headquarters,” Mason said, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Okay. Here you are, Paul. Report your murder if you want to. Just don’t mention my name — not yet.”
“They’ll already have the report,” Drake said. “That bellboy...”
“What the hell,” Mason said cheerfully, “there isn’t anything in the Business and Professions Code that says you have to report it first.”
Drake took the telephone. “Hello, headquarters? Paul Drake, Drake Detective Agency. I want to report a murder. Room 511, Richmell Hotel. The victim is a John Callender. I had men shadowing his room. A bellboy went in just now and discovered the crime, and...”
Mason’s forefinger firmly pressed down the button on the phone which cut off the connection.
“What the hell?” the detective exclaimed.
“The law says you have to report it. You’ve reported it. You don’t have to visit with them over the phone. Hang it up, Paul.”
Drake dropped the receiver into the pronged cradle.
Faulkner, the operative who was sitting on the edge of the bed, said, “For God’s sake, will somebody wise me up?”
Julian, on duty at the door, said, “We don’t know a thing about it, Frank. We’re covering the room, that’s all we know. Don’t listen to their conversation, if you don’t want to.”
Faulkner said, “I don’t think I want to.”
Drake said, “That’s all right. I’m responsible for you boys and I’m holding you responsible to me, Perry.”
“Okay by me,” Mason said, cheerfully. “Let’s have the works and have it fast. Faulkner, you’re the one who came on duty last night?”
“That’s right.”
“When?”
“I arrived here at about 2:16 or 2:17, and got on the job in two or three minutes after that. I’d figure perhaps two-seventeen and a half, if I had to get right down to a split second. For all-around purposes, I entered it in my notebook as 2:20.”
“You got here pretty fast,” Mason said.
“I was having a poker game in my apartment,” Faulkner explained. “Drake’s call caught me there. He said it was urgent and I jumped in my car and came down here.
Not much traffic at that hour of the night and I made it fast.”
“What did you do?”
“I looked around for the house dick. He wasn’t in the lobby — probably prowling the corridors. I carry a hotel key in my pocket for jobs of this kind. I walked across the lobby jingling the hotel key, got in the elevator and went directly to the fifth floor.”
“Then what?”
“I looked the place over,” Faulkner said. “The boss had told me that room 510 would be vacant. I saw there was light coming under the door. I also saw there was light coming under the door of 511. I figured 510 hadn’t checked out yet and I’d wait for him to get out. I looked around the corridor for the mop closet. That’s the best place to wait on a job of this kind. I found it. Fortunately it was located almost directly across from the elevator and where I had a clear view down the corridor. I got in there. It was pretty cramped, but I could manage to stand up and get a squint down the corridor.”
“You had this periscope arrangement?” Mason asked.
Harvey Julian said, “No, I brought that with me when I came on duty.”
“What time?”
“Five o’clock this morning. Drake got me and asked me to come up here and spell Frank Faulkner in case there should be a shadow job turn up.”
“Where was Faulkner?”
“I was in the room here by that time,” Faulkner said.
“What time did you get in the room?”
“It’s quite a long story,” Faulkner said. “I’d rather tell it the way it happened.”
“Okay, let’s have it your way then,” Mason said. “Only remember, we haven’t got much time. Make it snappy.”
“Well, as I say, I got on the job at 2:20. There was a lot doing in room 511. People were going in and out.”
“What people?” Mason asked.
Faulkner took a notebook from his pocket. “You want absolutely everything in the order it happened?”
“Everything. But let’s clear one thing up first. What time did you get into the room here at 510?”
“The man who was in it checked out at 3:02 A.M. I got in the room about ten minutes after.”
“How did you get in the room?” Mason asked.
“Went downstairs and registered.”
“Your right name?”
“Yes.”
“Then you weren’t covering the corridor between the time Sheldon checked out and you got into the room?”
“Now wait a minute,” Faulkner said. “I wasn’t, but the house dick was. That’s why I wanted to tell it to you the way it happened.”
“Okay,” Mason said, “let’s have it.”
“The house dick caught up with me about 2:35.I made a mistake. He was pussyfooting down the corridor and...”
“Never mind that,” Mason said. “What happened?”
“There was a little trouble for a minute. I showed him my credentials, told him what I was doing and he was pretty hostile. I slipped him a ten and that got him over his hostility. He told me he wouldn’t turn me in, but told me to get out. It took another ten to fix it so I could stay here. I told him that I had a tip 510 was going to check out and I was only waiting for that to happen. I told him I had to keep the corridor covered.”
“Why did you tell him you were on the job?” Mason asked.
“Told him I didn’t know for sure,” Faulkner said, “but told him I thought the boss was working on a case involving a hotel sneak thief. That made the house dick feel good. I slipped him the second ten and told him he’d get the credit for making the pinch, if there was a pinch, but that my boss would claim the reward on any loot we found in the place where the guy lived. That suited the house dick all right and we made a deal. He said he’d go back to hang around the desk and when 510 checked out he’d come up here and take my place covering the corridor. I could go down then and get the room.”