“And where was Allred all this time?”
“Right there with them in the motel.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure.”
“Allred spent that night with your mother and Bob Fleetwood?”
“That’s my understanding.”
“And last night?”
She nodded.
“Where is he today?”
“Back at his office carrying on his business. He doesn’t want anyone to suspect that Fleetwood isn’t...”
Mason said, “Pat, I think it’s up to you and me to find your mother without delay.”
“Why?”
“Because it was Bertrand Allred who told me your mother was eloping with Bob Fleetwood.”
She thought that over for a space of almost a minute, then went to the coat closet, got her hat and coat and said, “Do you want me to go with you?”
“After a little while,” Mason said. “There’s no use rushing our heads off right now. I have a force of detectives combing every auto camp and motel looking for them.”
“You think Mother is in some danger?”
“I’ll put it this way. I don’t think it was your car that hit Bob Fleetwood. I think things were fixed so it would be easy for you to clip the corner of the hedge. I think that the person who really hit Fleetwood thought he was dead and left the body where you’d get the blame. Now add to that the fact that Bertrand told me your mother had eloped with Fleetwood. Do you get the picture?”
She watched him with wide, startled eyes. “Do you mean... what I think you mean?”
Mason nodded.
She said, “I saw him taking a revolver out of his desk drawer. Mr. Mason, we must do something.”
The lawyer nodded, said, “Sit down, Patricia. We’re doing it.”
“You mean there’s nothing to do except wait?”
“That’s right. I have men covering the country.”
She sat down. “I can’t believe Bertrand Allred would... would do a thing like that.”
“So far it’s just a guess on my part,” Mason said.
“No, no. It’s the truth. A dozen things point to it. I can see it all now.”
Mason said, “Here’s my telephone number at my apartment. Get your car. Go back to your home. Keep an eye on Mr. Allred. Keep the porch light on. If he starts to take his car out of the garage, switch the porch light off. That’s all you have to do. I’ll have detectives take over from there.”
8
It was seven-thirty in the evening when the unlisted telephone in Mason’s apartment began ringing.
The lawyer, who had been studying the Advance Decisions, closed the printed pamphlet and picked up the telephone.
Patricia Faxon’s voice was sharp with panic. “I’ve failed, Mr. Mason,” she said.
“In what?”
“Mr. Allred managed to slip one over on me, somehow.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s gone. He isn’t here. I’m alone in the house. But he hasn’t taken his automobile out of the garage. It’s still there. I don’t know how he could have left.”
“Were there any visitors at the house?” Mason asked.
“Yes. That is, not right at the house. I think I told you he has an office in the south wing. He was over there during the first part of the evening, and he had at least one visitor.”
“Know who it was?”
“No, I don’t. It was some man, and they talked for a while and then the man drove away. The lights remained on in the office and well, just to check up, I made an excuse to run over to ask him a question, and — well, I’m there now.”
“But the lights are on?”
“Yes.”
“Evidently then, he intends to come back soon.”
“I suppose so, but—”
“If you hadn’t been checking up on him,” Mason said, “you would have thought he was still there because the lights were on?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like that.”
“Neither do I. That’s why I’m phoning you. It — it looks as though he might be trying to build an alibi for something.”
Mason said, “Okay, Patricia. Now don’t get panic-stricken. If you need anything, call the Drake Detective Agency. The number is in the book. There’ll be someone there all night. If anything happens, call there and tell them who you are.”
“I don’t want to stay here, Mr. Mason.”
“Why?”
“Because, if he should be planning anything... I’m a witness... You see, I know why Mother left. I don’t want to be here alone with him. He’s capable of anything. I’m afraid of him.”
“He doesn’t know about this Las Olitas address of yours?”
“No. No one does; only Mother.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “Go there. Sit tight. Good night now.”
Mason hung up the phone, called the Drake Detective Agency, got Paul Drake on the line, and said, “Paul, something’s going on. I don’t know just what it is, but I don’t like it.”
“What’s up, Perry?”
Swiftly he brought Paul Drake up to date.
“Allred’s probably not out of town,” Drake said. “Otherwise he’d have taken his own car.”
“Unless he has one planted somewhere. No news of Mrs. Allred?”
“No.”
“You’re covering auto camps?”
“All along the road. They could have driven somewhere around three hundred miles since ten o’clock this morning. We’re trying to cover the places where they could have holed up for the night.”
“What about the near auto courts?”
“What do you mean ‘near’?”
“Right around here.”
“Have a heart, Perry. There are too many of those. We’re picking up the ones within about a hundred miles and...”
“We’re overlooking a bet,” Mason interrupted.
“What do you mean?”
Mason said, “Allred spent Saturday night in the motel in Springfield. He also spent yesterday night in that motel. I have a hunch Mrs. Allred won’t stay in a motel with Fleetwood unless her husband is there. That means it has to be someplace within two or three hours’ drive. Check the motels in Springfield again. Check the near ones, Paul.”
“We can’t do it, Perry. There are just too darn many of them around the city, too many different roads that...”
“That’s all right. Put your Springfield man on the job. Check the courts in Springfield. Check the ones that are on the roads near Springfield.”
“Okay,” Drake said wearily. “We’ll try and do the best we can, Perry.”
Mason hung up and began pacing the floor, until after almost an hour, wearied by the sheer physical exertion, he flung himself once more into the big chair under the reading light. He was restless, nervous, frowning and irritable. Two more hours found him dozing.
The phone rang again.
Mason jerked the receiver from its cradle, said, “Yes, what is it?”
Paul Drake said, “My face is red, Perry.”
“Shoot.”
“You called a turn. Frankly, the possibility hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Of the near-by auto camp? You mean you’ve located them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“It’s a little place and it’s only about thirty-five miles from Springfield. It’s up in the mountains, on the road that cuts across the high mountain range and comes down to the desert on the other side. This place is a little auto court known as the Snug-Rest Auto Court. The registration is the same as it was in Springfield, R. G. Fleetwood and sister.”
“The accommodations?”
“Double cabin with three beds.”
“Mrs. Allred’s car there?”
“I don’t know, Perry, whether it’s there right now or not, but the license number is her license number. It’s the party we want, all right.”