Despite herself, the expression on her face altered.
“Fingerprints!”
“Fingerprints,” Mason repeated.
“You wouldn’t... wouldn’t leave fingerprints on a smooth surface like that?”
“On the contrary,” Mason said, “the tape that cushioned the inside lip of the hinged tile would be an excellent place to leave fingerprints and it is very, very possible that the smooth surface on the interior of the steel-lined receptacle would take and hold a fingerprint.”
“Mr. Mason,” she said, “I... I want to tell you something.”
“Now wait a minute,” Mason warned, “I’m here trying to get information. I’m a lawyer but you’re not my client. I have a client. If you tell me anything I can’t keep it in confidence.”
“You mean you’ll have to tell the police?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m not going to tell you anything,” she said abruptly.
“All right, don’t,” Mason told her. “But remember this: If — and mind you, I say ‘if’ — there should be anything that would be damaging to you in the evidence that the police are going to uncover, you don’t have to make any statements to them.
“If you were out there, if you picked up that money or any part of it, the best thing for you to do is to tell a lawyer of your own choosing.”
She was silent for several seconds.
“Well?” Mason asked.
She said, “I was out there.”
“At the pool?”
“No. I wasn’t at the house at all. I had driven my car up to the point above the house. There are some lots up there that are for sale. I had been out there before and I saw that one could see this house, the patio and the swimming pool from that point.”
“What were you doing out there? Now, don’t answer unless you want the police to know.”
“The police know — at least they’re going to know.”
“How does that happen?”
“A watchman for the subdivision caught me out there.”
“Tell him you were thinking of buying a lot?”
“I couldn’t. He caught me peeping with binoculars. I knew Norbert Jennings was going out there again with blood in his eye, looking for Loring Carson. He had a tip Carson was to be there. As the maligned woman who was to be the subject of a fight, I wanted to see the fight. Instead of that I saw...”
Abruptly her voice trailed into silence.
“Saw what?” Mason asked.
“I saw... saw...”
She ceased talking as the chimes sounded.
“That’ll be the masseuse,” she said parenthetically. “I left word for her to come here and...”
She crossed to the door, opened it and said, “Come on in. You’ll have to wait for just a few minutes, I—”
She broke off and gasped as she saw Lieutenant Tragg’s smiling face.
“Quite all right, thank you,” Lieutenant Tragg said. “I’ll come in, and if you’ll permit me to introduce myself, I’m Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide of Los Angeles, and the gentleman with me is Sergeant Camp; Sergeant Elias Camp, of the Las Vegas police.”
The two men moved into the room.
Tragg smiled at Mason and said, “You know, Mason, you’re quite a bird dog, really quite a bird dog.”
“You followed me here?” Mason asked.
“Oh, we did better than that,” Tragg said. “We knew that you wanted to find Nadine Palmer and had had a detective trailing her, so we simply rang up the various airlines and asked if they had booked a Perry Mason any time during the afternoon for any destination.
“Now, Mrs. Palmer, here, didn’t use her own name evidently, because we couldn’t find where she’d taken a plane. But we found you had taken a plane here, and you’re rather a distinctive individual, Mr. Mason. You stand out, you really do. You left quite a broad trail once you arrived here. We had little difficulty picking up that trail.
“We’d have been here sooner only we wanted to get a few formalities disposed of first.”
Lieutenant Tragg turned to Nadine Palmer. “Now, Mrs. Palmer, you have been doing a little gambling since you arrived?”
“Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Not a thing. And I understand you’ve been rather fortunate?”
“Very fortunate, indeed — and I take it that’s not illegal.”
“On the contrary, that’s very nice,” Tragg said. “The Internal Revenue Service will be very interested. They always like to get an unexpected windfall of this sort. And where did you leave your winnings, Mrs. Palmer?”
“I... I have them here.”
“That’s fine,” Lieutenant Tragg said. “Now this paper that I’m handing you is a search warrant, giving us authority to search your baggage.”
“No!” she cried. “You can’t do that! You can’t...”
“Oh, but we can,” Tragg said, “and we’re going to. Now this handbag or purse here. It’s lying on the bed as though you’ve put something in it in a hurry. Let’s just see what we have here, if you don’t mind.”
Tragg opened the bag.
“Well, well, well,” he said.
“That’s money I won!” she cried. “I won it here gambling in Las Vegas.”
Tragg stood looking at her, his smile deceptively cordial but his eyes hard as diamonds.
“Congratulations,” he said.
Mason said, “I assume there’s no further need for me to be here. You can remember what I told you, Mrs. Palmer, and...”
“Don’t go, don’t go,” Tragg said. “I want you here for two reasons: First, I want you to hear what Mrs. Palmer has to say because you’ll be a disinterested witness since you have other clients in the case, and second, I want to search you before you go.”
“Search me?” Mason asked.
“Exactly,” Tragg said. “Who knows but what you came here to present a claim on behalf of your client and received something in the way of a cash settlement. I’m quite sure we won’t find anything, Mason, but it’s a formality that the Las Vegas police insisted on. If you’ll just stand there, please.”
“Do you have a warrant to search me?” Mason asked.
The Las Vegas officer said, “We can take you down to the station, book you on disorderly conduct, occupying a room for immoral purposes, resisting an officer and a few other charges. Then we’ll turn you inside out when we get you down there. You can have it whichever way you want. Now hold your arms out from your sides.”
Mason smilingly held his arms out from his sides. “Go right ahead, gentlemen,” he invited.
“He’s clean,” Tragg said, “clean as a hound’s tooth. I know him like a book. He’d have pulled some sort of a razzle-dazzle if he’d had anything on him.”
The Las Vegas officer rapidly went through Perry Mason’s pockets. “I guess the stuff is all there,” he said, indicating Nadine Palmer’s handbag.
“And quite a haul,” Tragg said. “Several thousand dollars. Now, did you win all of this money at the tables, Mrs. Palmer?”
Nadine Palmer said, “I don’t like your attitude, I don’t like the way you come into my room and make yourselves at home, I don’t have to answer any of your questions. You’re trying to browbeat me and intimidate me and I’m going to insist on having a lawyer of my own choosing here before I answer any questions.”
“Is Mr. Mason the lawyer you have reference to?”
“He is not,” she said. “Mr. Mason is representing other people in the case. I want an attorney who will represent me and me alone.”
Tragg stepped over, held the door open and bowed smilingly to Mason. “That, Counselor,” he said, “is the cue for your exit. You’ve been searched, you have a clean bill of health, you aren’t this woman’s attorney. We’re taking her to Headquarters for interrogation and we certainly don’t want to detain you.