“There isn’t any such thing as off the record, Paul. You are too conscientious. You wouldn’t take a brick out of the chimney to drop it on an escaping murderer.”
“That was a swell illustration you gave Tragg,” Drake said, “but you couldn’t have made it stick with me. I know you too well. You pull the house down and leave only the loose brick in the chimney standing.”
“But,” Mason smiled, “I put it all back together again.”
“You have so far. This time you shall be like all the king’s horses and all the king’s men who couldn’t put Humpty-Dumpty together again.”
“Only in this case,” Mason said, “Humpty Dumpty hasn’t fallen off the wall.”
“What were your telephone calls?” Della Street asked.
“Oh, just something to keep Tragg out of mischief. He has been afraid to go after Homan, knowing Homan will pin his ears back through some political pull. Well, this time I have put him in such a position he will have to either fish or cut bait. And the second call is insurance. He will let me stay in circulation now. We may as well settle down to enjoy our dinners.”
“You aren’t going to try to leave here?”
“Not until after Tragg comes back to ask me about the young woman with whom I was seen in the elevator. I...”
A bus boy approached the table. “Are you Mr. Mason?”
“Yes.”
“Lieutenant Tragg wants to talk with you on the telephone.”
Mason said, “The lieutenant is saving time. I guess you folks will have to excuse me once more. Oh, waiter. Just go ahead and serve the dinner. We will have to hurry.”
Mason went to the telephone. Tragg’s voice said, “Mason, one of the elevator operators recognizes your photograph.”
“My photograph!”
“Yes.”
“Where in the world did you get one of my photographs?”
Tragg said, “If you think I am going to play around in your backyard without having a photograph of you all ready for emergencies, you are badly mistaken.”
“Well, that’s a commendable piece of foresight. What about the elevator boy?”
“He picked you up on the third floor. There was a young woman with you. Now what were you doing on the third floor, and who was the young woman?”
“The bellboy has identified my picture?” Mason asked.
“That is right.”
“The identification is positive?”
“Absolute.”
“Then,” Mason said, “the young woman must have been my client. Don’t you think that is a reasonable deduction, Tragg?”
Tragg’s voice held an edge. “Mason, this is murder. I am not going to play horse. I know you usually have an ace in the hole, but this time I am calling for a showdown.”
“I can’t answer any questions about any young woman with whom I was ever seen by an elevator boy in any downtown hotel at any time when any murder was committed,” Mason said. “It is a policy of the office. I think that covers the situation, Lieutenant?”
Tragg said, “Mason, I am going to let you stay out of jail until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Why the generosity?” Mason asked.
“Because,” Tragg said, “I am going to put you on the spot. I am going to turn you loose on Homan. You have been trying to get me to stick my neck out. Now I am going to let you pull some of my chestnuts out of the fire.”
Mason said, “I don’t have to ask him a single question. Mrs. Greeley’s testimony will take care of everything.”
“Did you think that crude trick was going to fool me?” Tragg asked.
“What was crude about it?”
Tragg said, “Mrs. Greeley, you will remember, was very positive her husband wouldn’t have ducked out on the girl. She was, however, conscientious enough to produce the shirt as soon as she found it. You would have been in a spot if she had simply ditched it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“About that little alibi you fixed up for your client, Mason. When you planted that shirt, you overlooked one thing.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about, it Tragg.”
“You know what I am talking about, Mason. It was a nice trick, but it didn’t work. I suppose your charming secretary furnished the lipstick — and the imprint of the transferred lips?”
“All right, you are one up on me. Tell me what was wrong.”
“The laundry mark on the shirt. You overlooked that, didn’t you, Mason?”
“What about the laundry mark?”
“Unfortunately,” Tragg said, “the laundry mark on the shirt is one of the corroborating bits of evidence that I decided should be checked. I checked on it, and it isn’t Greeley’s laundry mark. That shirt was planted in that bag after Greeley’s death so Mrs. Greeley would find it. It was planted by some shrewd opportunist who knew that dead men can tell no tales, who knew that Mrs. Greeley, on finding that shirt, would communicate with you. And it was timed beautifully, Mason.”
“Wait a minute,” Mason said, his voice showing his concern. “Whose laundry mark is it?”
“We haven’t been able to find out whose it is,” Tragg said, “only whose it isn’t. It isn’t Greeley’s laundry mark.”
“Perhaps he had it done in San Francisco.”
“No. It isn’t Greeley’s shirt. The sleeves are an inch and a half shorter than Greeley wears them, and, above all, the collar is sixteen and a quarter. Greeley wore fifteen and three-quarters. So I think, Mr. Mason, that we will let you cross-examine Mr. Homan about the keys in the morning. And now you are free to leave the Tangerine at any time you want. But whenever you get ready to tell me the name of the young woman who was in the elevator with you this evening, you know where to reach me. And, by the way, I won’t be back to eat my steak, so you would better eat both steaks. Tomorrow night your diet will be much less elaborate. It will probably be some time before you have a good thick steak again.”
“Listen, Tragg, about that shirt. I...”
“I have told you all I am going to tell you, Mason. Miss Claire isn’t out in the clear, not by a long ways. You have got to go to work on Homan in order to get anywhere, and immediately after the court disposes of the Case of the People versus Claire, you are going to tell me who that young woman was who came down in the elevator with you, or you are going to be placed in custody as a material witness. And if that should be Paul Drake’s shirt, tell him he should better eat two steaks as well. Because I am eventually going to trace that laundry mark.”
And the receiver clicked at the other end of the line.
Mason hung up the telephone, walked slowly back to the table where Della Street and Paul Drake were seated, their faces turned toward the floor show which had just started. Other patrons of the establishment were showing the mellowing effects of good liquor, good food, and a good show. Drake and Della Street looked as though they had been sitting at a funeral.
Mason slid into his chair, pulled his steak over toward him, picked up knife and fork, and attacked the meat with extreme relish.
“Doesn’t seem to affect your appetite any,” Drake said.
“It doesn’t,” Mason admitted. “You have always said I would skate on thin ice, and break through, Paul. Well, get ready to smile. I have fallen in!”
“What is it?” Della asked.
“That wasn’t Greeley’s shirt. Someone planted it in the laundry bag for Mrs. Greeley to find.”
“Good God!” Drake exclaimed.
“That means we are elected.” Mason said, “Watch the floor show and quit worrying, Paul. Tragg says he won’t arrest us until after I have cross-examined Homan.”
Chapter 19