“Naturally. He is the driver of the Homan car.”
“What name did you know him by?”
“I tell you I didn’t know him.”
“What name did he give your client?”
“He didn’t give her any. The accident happened before they got that well acquainted.”
“Cagey, aren’t you?”
“No. Truthful.”
“When you wanted me to come out, you said something about a Spinley or Semley, or some such name.”
“I don’t remember it.”
Tragg tried another tack. “How did you happen to look for him in this hotel?”
“Paul Drake’s men were making a search. They asked the clerk if a man who answered this description had arrived at the hotel last night and found he had.”
Tragg’s slight frown showed his irritation. “Very, very nice,” he said, and then added, after a significant pause, “for you. That is, it would be nice if I believed it.”
“You can prove it,” Mason said.
“How?”
“By checking with the clerk.”
“I am not doubting that. You are too shrewd to give me a false lead on something that could be checked as easily as that. But what I want to know is how Drake’s men happened to pick this particular hotel.”
“They were looking for the driver of the car.”
“You mean the corpse over here?”
“Yes.”
“And why did they happen to look here?”
“They were covering the hotels.”
“How many other hotels did they cover?” Tragg asked.
As Mason remained silent, Tragg grinned. “You are a tough customer, Mason. You know your rights, and you will keep within them, but if I have to I will get the facts from Paul Drake. Remember, Drake is running a private detective agency. He would hate to have anything happen to his license.”
Mason said, “Drake and I had a witness we were keeping in the hotel. We thought this man might try to reach her.”
“That is better. Who was the witness?”
“I would prefer not to discuss that.”
“Doubtless you would, but who was it?”
“I don’t think I shall answer that, Tragg.”
Tragg said to one of the men, “Get Paul Drake up here.”
Mason said, “After all, Tragg, you have no right to inquire into the confidential affairs of a lawyer even if you are trying to clear up a murder case.”
Tragg didn’t even bother to reply.
Paul Drake appeared in tow of the officer.
Tragg said, “All right, Drake, let us have this straight. Your men located this man here in the hotel. No, don’t look at Mason. Just answer the question.”
Drake nodded.
“How did they happen to locate him here?”
“They made inquiries of the clerk.”
“All right, Drake, I will be patient with you, but don’t carry it too far. How did they happen to make inquiries of the clerk?”
“Mason thought the man might be here.”
“And when did Mason get that bright idea?”
“About nine-fifteen or nine-thirty this morning.”
“Who was the witness that was here at the hotel?”
“I didn’t know there was any.”
Tragg’s face flushed slightly. “How many times have you been at this hotel within the last twenty-four hours, Drake?”
Mason said, “Go ahead and tell him, Paul. He will find out from the assistant manager, anyway.”
Drake said, “Mason and I brought a woman into the hotel last night. I didn’t know she was a witness. I thought she was just going to give Mason...”
“What is her name?”
“Mrs. Warfield.”
“Where is she from?”
“New Orleans.”
“Where did she register?”
“Room six-twenty-eight.”
“Well,” Tragg exclaimed, “it took us quite a little while to get that simple piece of information, didn’t it? Where is that woman now?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said.
“You have been to her room?”
“Been to her room,” Mason said, “secured a passkey, gone in, and looked around.”
“Indeed, and what did you find?”
“Nothing. She wasn’t there.”
“The room in the same condition now that it was then?”
“Inasmuch as I was paying the bill,” Mason said, “and apparently she had no intention of using the room, I checked out for her.”
Tragg’s voice became crisply businesslike. “All right. Mason — and you too, Drake, get this straight. We aren’t always on the same side of the fence. I can’t help that, and you can’t help it. You have your living to make. I have my living to make. But, by God, when I ask you fellows a question, I want an answer. Beating around the bush isn’t going to get you anyplace. If you don’t want to answer and think you can make it stick, simply refuse to answer. But don’t try giving me a runaround. Is that straight?”
Mason said, “Watch your questions then. Don’t accuse me of giving you a runaround if I don’t volunteer information.”
“If it is going to be like that,” Tragg said, “I can take care of it. All right, let us go take a look at that room Mrs. Warfield had.”
“Someone else may be in it now,” Mason said. “We checked out.”
“Get the manager,” Tragg told one of his men.
While the man was getting the manager, a radio officer escorted Stephane Claire out of the elevator. She seemed white and frightened. Her eyes glanced appealingly at Mason.
Mason said, “This is Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide, Miss Claire. You will find him very competent, but exceedingly partisan. I am afraid you are in for a disagreeable experience. We want you to look at a body.”
“At a body!”
Mason nodded.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?... What?...”
Mason said, “The man was mur...”
“That will do,” Tragg said to Mason. “I shall do the talking from now on. Miss Claire, we thought perhaps this might be the body of a man whom you have known. If you won’t mind stepping this way, please...” He took her arm and escorted her into the hotel bedroom.
There was the unmistakable atmosphere of death in the room. The body that was sprawled on the bed clothed the surroundings with the quiet dignity of death. On the other hand, the men who were working trying to develop clues, seemed entirely set apart from all solemnity. So far as they were concerned, the body on the bed might have been a sack of potatoes. It was merely an inanimate object to be photographed, measured, and studied in connection with the other objects in the room.
These men worked skillfully and quickly, with a complete air of detachment. Constant familiarity with death had in some way made them seem immune to it.
Lieutenant Tragg guided Stephane Claire past these men, moved around the foot of the bed in such a way that his body obstructed her vision. Not until she was where she could look directly down at the man’s face did Tragg step quickly to one side.
“Know this man?” he asked.
Stephane Claire stared down at the still gray features. For several moments her eyes were held as by some magnetic attraction which was stronger than her own volition, then she managed to shift her eyes to Tragg’s face.
“Yes, I know him. I don’t know his name.”
“Who is he?”
“He was the one who was driving the car the night of the wreck, the one who picked me up as a hitchhiker.”
Tragg made a little bow to Mason. “Very neatly done, Mason,” he said sarcastically. “I congratulate you. I suppose that will be your defense.”
“Naturally,” Mason said.
“Why, it is the truth!” Stephane Claire exclaimed. “Mr. Mason hasn’t said a word to me. I haven’t seen or heard from him since I left the hospital.”
Tragg looked from Stephane Claire to Mason. “Dammit,” he said to Mason, “I believe you. And offhand I can mention the names of three thousand eight hundred and seventy-six persons directly and indirectly connected with the police who won’t.”