“Gosh, Della,” Drake said, “haven’t you gone home yet?”
She shook her head. “I was hoping someone would buy me dinner.”
“It is a swell idea,” Drake told her. “They might even buy mine while they were doing it.”
“News from the battle front,” Della said to Perry Mason. “Latest bulletin just in over the telephone.”
“What is it?”
“Hortense Zitkousky. She must be quite a gal.”
“I have an idea she is,” Mason said. “What about her?”
“She sounds as though she were getting just a bit high. She said it’s the first time she has had a chance to get away to the telephone. She is out with the chauffeur.”
“What has she found out?”
“The chauffeur isn’t the least bit worried about money. Homan fired him. The chauffeur’s spending dough like a drunken sailor. The automobile was driven seven hundred and thirty-two miles between the morning of the eighteenth and the time of the accident on the nineteenth.”
“How does he know?” Mason asked.
“He keeps a record of the speedometer figures. He has to service the car.”
Drake gave a low whistle.
“Was that all she had?” Mason asked.
“So far. She says to tell you she is not only getting to first base with the chauffeur, but is getting ready to steal second. She is trying to find out why he isn’t worried about money. And she thinks he may have something else on Homan.”
Mason said, “I hope she is smart enough to try and find out about Spinney. Homan may be right about that. It may have been the chauffeur who was calling Spinney, and whom Spinney was calling. Know anyone out around Hollywood, Della?”
“You mean movie people?”
“Yeah.”
“A couple of writers and an agent.”
“You might try the agent,” Mason said. “I would like to get some of the low-down on Homan and his meteoric success. There must be some gossip in connection with him. I would like to find out what it is. And I would like to get the low-down on his love life. That always helps.”
“I can put some men on the Job,” Drake said.
Mason shook his head. “A private detective in that atmosphere would stick out like a sore thumb on a waiter serving soup. The stuff I am after is the little inside gossip that would be confined to people who are in the game.”
Della said, “This agent is a card.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman. Used to be a secretary, then did a little writing, and started handling screen stuff.”
“Stories or talent?”
“Stories.”
“Get in touch with her. See what you can find out,” Mason said. “Make it casual if you can.”
“I can’t.”
“Then take your hair down and get her to give you the low-down. How about meeting me in a couple of hours somewhere for a report? You should be able to get what we want in that time.”
“I will get on the phone and see what I can do.”
“Oh-oh,” Drake said, “there goes my dinner date.”
Della Street smiled. “You wouldn’t be any fun. You are getting to be a wet blanket, Paul. You are worrying too darn much. Why don’t you be like Homan’s chauffeur?”
“I used to worry about my work,” Drake admitted. “Now I am worrying Perry will get my license revoked. If I had no more to worry about than that chauffeur, I would be taking girls to dinner and spending money like a drunken sailor, too.”
Mason winked at Della Street. “Perhaps we could get that Hortense girl to take him out some night. It might cure him of worrying.”
“Meaning it may be the company I keep?” Drake asked.
Mason jerked his head toward Della Street’s office. “Go in and see if you can locate this agent friend of yours on the phone, Della. You can trust her?”
“Asking if she is a good friend?”
“Yes.”
“I shall say she is.”
“Well, come right out and tell her you want the low-down on Homan. After all, this case is in the papers. You couldn’t make a stall that would stick. She would see through any attempt.”
“Okay, I shall see if I can get her.”
Della Street went into her office. They could hear the dial on her telephone whirring.
Drake said to Mason, “Judge Cortright may turn Stephane Claire loose tomorrow. That Lions girl didn’t make a good impression on him... And I shall bet Tragg is interested in what we are uncovering. I wouldn’t doubt if he dropped in.
“Will you work with him, Perry?”
“It depends. I am going to get my client out from under. He can solve his own murders. Next time I give him a tip, he will follow it.”
“What tip did he muff this time?”
“Homan.”
“Be your age. Homan would have gone in to the big shot in his company, and said, ‘Mr. Whosis, I can’t work on that script, because this lawyer has put the police on me, and they are asking me questions about what I had for dinner last Wednesday.’ Then the big shot would pick up the telephone, call the Mayor. The Mayor would call the Chief. The Chief would call the Captain, and... you get the sketch.”
Mason smiled. “Homan has to be lying about that car.”
“Well, Tragg can’t dig down into the hopper, pull out your dirty linen, and...”
Della Street emerged from her office to say, “I have located her, Chief. She is in her office. Still want me to run out there?”
“Yes. Take my car. I will wait.”
“Here?”
“Uh-huh. Let’s eat when you get back.”
“Okay, I shall grab something to tide me over and meet you here.”
“You, Paul?” Mason asked the detective.
“No. Della says I am a wet blanket.”
“Snap out of it,” she said, smiling. “There is nothing the matter with you that four good cocktails won’t cure.”
Drake said, “I shall let you know later. I hate to turn down a chance to dance with Della.”
She laughed. “You hate to waste a chance to eat your way through a deluxe dinner. Be seeing you. When I come back, I shall have all the inside Hollywood gossip. Give this girl a couple of drinks, and she talks a blue streak.”
Drake said, “Watch her, Perry. She is getting ready to turn in an expense account consisting of a lot of bar cheques. I know the symptoms.”
“You should,” Della Street retorted, putting on her hat and coat in front of the mirror in the cloak closet. “It is a trick I learned from auditing your swindle sheets.” She drew on her gloves. “It will take about two hours, and if I draw a blank, don’t be too disappointed.”
“I won’t,” Mason said.
Mason and Drake listened to Della Street’s steps in the corridor of the deserted office building.
“One in a million,” Drake said.
“Make it ten million, Paul.”
They smoked in silence for several seconds. Steps approached the door. Mason frowned as knuckles beat an authoritative tattoo.
“Sounds like a cop,” Drake said.
“You don’t need to be a detective to tell that,” Mason remarked, opening the door.
Lieutenant Tragg said, “Hello, boys. Trying to make one thought grow where two grew before?”
Mason looked at his watch. “I shall bet it is bad news.”
Tragg walked in, and sat down.
“Things didn’t go so well for you in court today, Mason,” Tragg said.
“Oh, I don’t know. I am satisfied.”
Tragg said, “I have a murder on my hands. You have got an intoxicated-driver manslaughter case. That case is in the county. I don’t care a hell of a lot about it. The murder case is right down my alley. If I solve it, I get a pat on the back. If I don’t, I get a kick in the pants.”
Mason said, “I believe you are leading up to something.”
“I am.”
“Spring it.”
“How would you like to be working with us for a change instead of against us?”