Mason watched him stride across the corner of the dance floor, thread his way among the tables.
“Any use to tail him?” Drake asked.
“Certainly not,” Mason said. “He has already made arrangements for plainclothes men to sew this place up, and it’s a ten-to-one bet that he has tapped the line out of that telephone booth, hoping that I will call someone. And,” he added with a grin, “I am damned if I don’t.”
“Watch your step, Chief,” Della Street cautioned.
Mason glanced at his wrist watch. “I will give him ten minutes,” he said, “to make certain he has got all of his preparations made.”
“Then what?”
Mason chuckled.
Drake said, “Perry, he did pick up that feather in the hall. There was no fake about that. How did it get there if you weren’t in the room with the body?”
“Just the way he says it did, Paul.”
“Good God, Perry! Don’t admit you were there — not to me.”
Mason picked up his fork and started eating his cocktail again. “Tragg is a very dangerous adversary.”
Drake sighed. “If only I had nerves like that,” he said to Della Street.
The dance music struck up. Della Street’s foot sought Mason’s ankle under the table, give it a slight nudge. He pushed back from the table, moved over to Della Street’s chair. A moment later they glided out onto the floor.
“What was it?” she asked.
Mason said, “Hortense Zitkousky telephoned. She was in a panic. I decided it would take a lot to get her in a panic, that I should better go see what it was. It was Tanner lying across the bathtub just as Tragg described it. Someone had pushed a pillow up against the back of his head, stuck a gun into the pillow, and pulled the trigger.”
“What was he doing while all that was going on?”
“Apparently being very ill from having absorbed too much alcohol.”
“Who did it?”
“Horty says she has no idea. She got him up to Stephane’s room because she wanted to have some central place to park him until Max Olger could get his story. He was getting talkative. She thought he was going to spill something important. She went downstairs to telephone me. The phone was busy. She went back up to the room and found what had happened. The second time, she called me from the room. She was wearing gloves.”
Della Street followed Mason’s leads mechanically while she digested that information.
“Knowing Horty,” Mason said, “you can believe her. If you didn’t know Horty, you wouldn’t.”
“But they will find out she was out with him.”
“How?”
“Well... don’t you suppose someone saw them? Her appearance is rather — well, distinctive.”
“It is if you connect her with Stephane Claire. Otherwise it isn’t. She is not so heavy. It is the way she carries herself. She is one of the few women I have known who stand out in my mind as really justifying the adjective voluptuous.”
“But after all, you weren’t responsible. Why not simply have notified the police and...”
“Because I am a hunter, Della. Some men get their thrills in life out of standing up to a charging lion or tiger. Some like to shoot small birds, some just like to hunt, not for what they kill, but for the thrill of hunting. Well, I hunt murderers. I think I know who killed Greeley. It is the only solution which fits in with the facts. And, Della, I want to bag that murderer. I don’t want Tragg to do it. I am willing he should have the credit, but I want to be the one to do the hunting, and finding.”
“Well, why mix into Tanner’s case so deep that you...”
“Tragg wouldn’t have let me be free to work. He would have had me all sewed up.”
“You mean just because you reported a murder?”
Mason laughed. “Sure. Look at it from Tragg’s view-point. He leaves me to go get a sandwich, and I run out and turn up another corpse.”
“Well, he knows you were there now.”
“Thanks to that telltale feather,” Mason said. “That was an unforeseen break which went against me.”
“Then you are in hot water now?”
“Well, I can feel it getting warm,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s get back to the table and hold Drake in line. He may get ideas of his own if we leave him alone too long, and I want to put through a couple of telephone calls.”
“To whom?”
“Oh, to some people I think Tragg should check up on.”
They circled the dance floor until they were near their table, then Mason escorted her back to her chair. “Hold the fort,” he said to Drake, “I am going to telephone.”
Drake said, “The waiter was here. He told me you said you wanted the dinner served right along.”
“Yes. We might even skip the soup and get busy on the steaks. It may be quite a while, Paul, before we get nice tender filet mignon again.”
Drake winced. “I wish you wouldn’t kid about it. Tragg really means business this time.”
“Uh-huh,” Mason agreed.
He skirted the dance floor, picked his way between the tables to the telephone booth, and dialed Homan’s unlisted telephone number. A few moments later, he heard the voice of the Filipino boy on the line.
“Is Mr. Homan there?” Mason asked.
“Who is this talking please?”
“This is Mr. Mason, the lawyer.”
“Oh, I am sorry, sah. He is very busy. He leave a message that no one is to disturb, no matter who. But perhaps...”
“Okay, Felipe, tell Mr. Homan to remember that you didn’t go out tonight. Do you understand? You didn’t go out.”
The boy’s voice showed surprise. “But I have not gone out, Mr. Mason. I am here all evening.”
“That’s the stuff,” Mason said, and hung up the telephone.
Mason consulted his notebook, found the telephone number of Mona Carlyle, the employee at Rigley’s Cafeteria, and called her.
“Miss Carlyle,” he said, when he had her on the telephone, “this is Mr. Mason. I am speaking on behalf of Mr. Drake. Mr. Drake offered Mrs. Warfield a position. For some reason best known to herself she decided not to take that position and left the hotel where she was to stay until Mr. Drake told her where and when to report.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Mason,” the voice at the other end of the line said. “I simply can’t help you at all. I don’t know a thing about her.”
“I understand that is the case,” Mason said, “but it occurs to me that she may get in touch with you within the next few hours.”
“Why? What makes you think so?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said. “Perhaps it is just a hunch. When she does, would you mind telling her that I have verified my information about her husband, and that if she wants complete information about him, I will be only too glad to give it to her. But she must get in touch with me personally. Will you tell her that in case she communicates with you?”
“Why, yes,” she replied dubiously. “I will tell her, but really, Mr. Mason, I haven’t the faintest idea that she will get in touch with me...”
“I think she will,” Mason said. “And thank you very much.” He dropped the receiver into place.
He returned to the table where Drake and Della Street were conversing in low tones. Della looked up, smiled, and said, “I am glad you are back. Every time they get me alone, it is the same old story.”
“Trying to pump you?” Mason asked as he sat down.
“Uh-huh. I am afraid I am losing my sex appeal. He used to try kidding me along. Now he has changed his objectives.”
Drake said, “Dammit, Perry, you are always dragging me into some mess, and then making me go at it blind.”
“I know,” Mason said soothingly, “but it is better that way, Paul. It keeps you from getting gray.”
“Well,” Drake said, “couldn’t you satisfy my curiosity? Just off the record?”