“You didn’t come here because Miss Claire asked you to?”
“No.”
“You didn’t look him up on account of anything Mrs. Warfield told you?”
“No.”
“And why did you come to my office before you went to call on the gentleman?”
“I told you,” Mason said. “I wanted to cooperate.”
Tragg bowed. “I certainly appreciate your frankness, Mr. Mason. Don’t let me detain you. I know you are a busy man, and while I appreciate the great help you are giving me, I can’t ask you to sacrifice your practice.”
“Meaning that we are free to go?”
“Yes, all except the Claire girl.”
“Why can’t she go?”
“Because I am holding her.”
“I don’t know what grounds you have for holding her.”
“So far she is the only one we have found who knew this man. She had every reason not to like him. The man is dead. Under the circumstances, we are going to have to hold her for a while.”
“She has just been released from the hospital.”
Tragg smiled. “It isn’t where she has just been that counts, but where she is just going. And that’s the D.A.’s office.”
“May I talk with her before she leaves?”
“I would prefer that you didn’t.”
“She is my client. I demand the right to talk with her.”
Tragg smiled, “I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your right to talk with a client,” he said, “but unfortunately she isn’t here. A detective is driving her to the D.A.’s office.”
Mason said irritably, “Even when we cooperate, we don’t seem to be of much help to each other, do we?”
“Are you,” Tragg said, “telling me? However, Mr. Mason, don’t worry. I will start an investigation of Mr. L. C. Spinney who has been residing at San Francisco, and — shall we say Bakersfield?”
“I don’t know why not,” Mason said.
Tragg, looking at him, said, “Well, I shall pull that one chestnut out of the fire for you. What did Mrs. Warfield look like?”
“About thirty-one or two, tired looking, blue eyes, light chestnut hair, drooping shoulders, average height, thin. Wearing a blue serge skirt and jacket when we last saw her.”
Tragg picked up the telephone, called headquarters, and said, “I want a dragnet out for a Mrs. Warfield who registered at the Gateview Hotel last night as Lois Warfield of New Orleans. She checked out of the hotel within the last hour. Search all the restaurants nearby. She is thirty-odd, thin, average height, tired looking, blue eyes, light chestnut hair, blue serge suit. I want her damn bad. Rush it.”
He hung up the telephone.
“And do you,” Mason said, “want us anymore?”
Tragg grinned. “Hell, no!”
Out in the street once more, Mason said, “I thought he would give us more action going after Spinney if he thought I was trying to keep what I knew about Spinney away from him.”
“It may work that way,” Drake admitted. “Why didn’t he mention her baggage in Greeley’s room?”
“Trying to trap us,” Mason said. “Watch your step, Paul. In the meantime, we shall see if there is an Adler Greeley in the telephone book. If there is, we will pay a very hurried call. While Tragg is busy unscrambling the leads we have given him, we may manage to steal a march.”
Chapter 13
The building was a two-flat affair in a high-priced district. Green palm fronds splashed against the background of white stone.
A coloured maid answered the bell.
Mason gave her his card. “I would like to see Mrs. Greeley if she is in,” he said. “Please tell her it is very important.”
The maid took the card, read it, glanced shrewdly at Mason, said, “Just a moment, please,” and climbed the stairs. A few moments later, she returned. “Mrs. Greeley will see you,” she said.
Mason was ushered into a living room in which dark massive furniture, deep rugs, and a few carefully selected oil paintings, originals, gave an atmosphere of unpretentious luxury. The photograph over the fireplace was unquestionably that of the man whose body Mason had seen at the Gateview Hotel.
Mrs. Greeley was evidently in the early thirties. She was a woman who could extend every courtesy as a hostess, yet managed to withhold the intimacy of her friendship — a woman who had quite evidently done much entertaining, had been entertained, and who would seldom be at a loss under any circumstances.
Surveying him with frank curiosity, she said, “I have heard of you, Mr. Mason, and I have read about your cases in the papers. Won’t you be seated?”
Mason said, “My errand is not very pleasant, Mrs. Greeley. It has to do with your husband.” He paused.
She said, “I am sorry, Mr. Mason. You can’t see him. He is in San Francisco.”
“Do you know just when he went to San Francisco?” Mason asked.
“Why, yes. He was called rather unexpectedly yesterday evening.”
“Does he go to San Francisco frequently?”
“Yes. His business calls him there regularly. Can you tell me the reason for these questions, Mr. Mason?”
Mason said, “Frankly, Mrs. Greeley, I am investigating an automobile accident in which your husband was concerned.”
“Adler in an automobile accident?”
The lawyer nodded.
“You don’t mean last night? Tell me, Mr. Mason, he wasn’t hurt?...”
“No, not last night. It was several days ago.”
“Why, I didn’t hear him say a thing about it. There was a bruise... Can you tell me just what you have in mind, Mr. Mason?”
“Your husband was in San Francisco last Wednesday?”
“He goes up there frequently.”
“And does he drive when he makes the trip?”
“Good heavens, no! Not between here and San Francisco! He takes the plane or the night train, usually the plane. Sometimes he will go up on the early morning plane and take the night train back.”
“One more question. Can you tell me if Mr. Greeley knows a motion picture producer by the name of Homan?”
“Why, yes. Well, now, wait a minute, I don’t know whether he has met Mr. Homan personally or just over the telephone. But I know he has handled some business for Mr. Homan. I remember we were at a picture a few nights ago, and Mr. Homan’s name was flashed on the screen. Adler told me that Homan was a client of his, and I was quite thrilled.”
“Mrs. Greeley, has your husband mentioned that he was in any automobile accident recently?”
“No.”
“Has he seemed bruised or stiff or sore?”
“Except for a slight... Mr. Mason, why do you ask me these questions? Adler would be the logical person to answer them”
“Unfortunately, he isn’t available.”
“His office would know where to reach him. You could get him on the phone.”
“His office said they couldn’t tell me when I could reach him.”
She smiled. “Perhaps they would tell you that, but they would let me know.”
“Was he here last night?”
“No. I told you he was called to San Francisco — but he expected to take either the morning train or the night train back.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that your husband might change his plans — or might tell you he was in one place when he was really in another?”
She laughed in his face. “Are you trying to ask delicately if it’s occurred to me that my husband would deceive me?”
“Yes.”
She said, still smiling, “I suppose he would. I think any man would if he happened to be tempted sufficiently. But my husband would always play fair with me, Mr. Mason. There is a difference, you see. And I think, Mr. Mason, that you have said enough now so that Adler should know you are here and what you want.”