“Get out!”
The officer opened the door, reached in and grabbed the lapels of Mason’s coat and said, “When the ‘Loot’ says out, he means out. You coming?”
“I’m coming,” Mason said.
“Come with me,” Tragg ordered.
Mason followed him up to the porch. Tragg turned abruptly, said, “Wait a minute, I have some instructions to give the officer.”
Mason sat on the rail of the porch while Tragg moved part way down the cement walk which led to the sidewalk.
Tragg and the officer conversed in low tones for a moment or two, then the officer started back toward the car. Tragg returned to Mason. “What were you two trying to put over, Mason?”
Mason said, “I feel I’ve been inconvenienced about enough. After all, Lieutenant, I’ve told you all I know, and I have work to do.”
Tragg nodded.
“Moreover,” Mason said, “there’s a lot of stuff at the office that Miss Street has to take care of.”
Tragg pursed his lips, started to say something, checked himself.
“One of us has to get back,” Mason insisted.
Tragg apparently changed his mind. He called out suddenly to the officer in the police car, “Take Miss Street up to Mr. Mason’s office, leave her there and then follow instructions.”
“Okay,” the big officer said, and almost immediately little puffs of smoke began to come from the exhaust of the big police car.
“You can come back upstairs with me,” Tragg said to Mason. “I want to talk with you a little further.”
“Only too glad to oblige,” Mason said.
The big police car rocketed into motion.
“I’d like to get her there in one piece,” Mason said.
“Oh, sure, sure,” Tragg assured him casually. “That officer will handle her as though she were a crate of eggs. He’s one of the best drivers in the business.”
“He seemed unduly suspicious.”
“That depends on what you mean by ‘unduly,’ ” Tragg said. “He said you were trying to whisper.”
“I wanted to give Della Street some instructions about a business matter.”
“You can trust our discretion.”
Mason said, “I don’t have to trust anyone’s discretion. I have a right to run my business, and I certainly don’t have to broadcast instructions to my secretary over a police network...”
“Okay, okay,” Tragg interrupted, “no hard feelings, Mason. I merely wanted to make sure I had a straight story out of you. Now, let’s take a few minutes here, and then I see no reason why you can’t be on your way. Show me just how this door was standing partially open when you came here.”
Mason said, “Now, I’m not certain about that, Tragg. I thought I heard a buzzer somewhere, and — you know how these electric buzzers release a door catch.”
Tragg, watching Mason narrowly, nodded his head. “Go on,” he said curtly.
“Well,” Mason said. “I rang the bell and then I thought I heard a buzzer. I can’t be absolutely certain of it. I pressed against the door, and the door opened, so I naturally assumed my ring had been answered.”
“You don’t know whether the door was ajar or not?”
“I acted rather mechanically. I heard what I thought was a buzzer, and pushed the door.”
“You don’t think it was a buzzer now?”
Mason said, “A dead woman can hardly push a buzzer button.”
“That’s right,” Tragg said, and then added after a moment, “You had Della Street with you?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, Mason, you wouldn’t want to suppress any evidence.”
“What do you mean — evidence?”
“Just what I said.”
“I take it,” Mason said, “that you are referring to evidence concerning the murder. As far as any other evidence is concerned, I not only have a right to suppress it, but it becomes my duty to do so.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’m supposed to protect the interests of my clients. I’m supposed to keep their confidences.”
“Their confidences, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can suppress any evidence.”
“I can suppress evidence of anything I damn please,” Mason said, “just so it isn’t evidence that points to a crime.”
“There might be a difference of opinion,” Tragg said, “as to what evidence points to a crime and what doesn’t.”
“Perhaps.”
“I wouldn’t want you to think you had the final decision in that matter.”
“You think I’m holding something back?”
Tragg said, “I’m interested in how you got in, that’s all.”
“I told you.”
“Obviously, you must have been mistaken when you say you thought you heard the buzzer.”
“That, of course, is a logical conclusion.”
“Do you know of any motive for the murder?” Tragg asked.
“I had never even met the woman.”
“Nurse, wasn’t she?”
“So I understand.”
Tragg said, “Well, sit down here, Mason. I’ll be finished with you in a few minutes. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve checked up on some stuff in here.”
Mason sat down in a chair in the living room and Tragg went back to the bedroom. Mason, from time to time, saw brief white flashes of light in the hall as the photographer in the bedroom shot off flash bulbs. The lawyer impatiently looked at his watch, nervously pulled a cigarette case out of his pocket, snapped it open, struck a match and started smoking.
The officer who was standing in the doorway on guard said, “If you don’t mind, Mr. Mason, you can put that burnt match in your pocket. It might be confusing if you dropped it in an ashtray.”
Mason nodded, and pushed the burnt match down into his pocket.
The door from the south bedroom opened, and Tragg said, “All right, Mason, I don’t think there’s any need to detain you any longer. You have your car here?”
“Yes,” Mason said.
“We’ve got nothing more to ask you right at the present time. You can’t remember anything else?”
“I think I’ve told you all I can,” Mason said.
“Okay,” Tragg said breezily, “on your way,” and to the officer at the door, “Let Mr. Mason out.”
Mason said good afternoon to Tragg, walked past the officer, down the stairs, walked a half block to where he had parked his car, got in and drove until he saw a sign announcing a telephone pay station.
Mason dropped a coin, dialed his office, and in a matter of seconds had Gertie on the line.
“Quick, Gertie,” Mason said, “I want to get the address of Ethel Furlong, the other witness to that will, and...”
Gertie’s voice was sharp with excitement. “Della Street’s already got it. She went tearing out there in a taxi. It’s way out on South Montet Avenue — number 6920.”
“Thanks,” Mason said. “Don’t let anyone know where I am. In case the police should telephone, simply tell them I haven’t showed up at the office yet but that you’re expecting me. You say Della went out in a taxi?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago did she leave?”
“About three or four minutes ago. The police brought her to the office. She said they certainly gave her one wild ride. That big cop goes like mad, and, of course, with the siren...”
“I understand,” Mason said, “I presume I can get there about as soon as she does.”
“Mr. Mason, can you tell me what’s happened? Della Street was in too much of a hurry...”
“I am, too,” Mason said. “It’ll keep. Just close up the office at five, Gertie, and go on home.”
“Aw gee, Mr. Mason, I’d like to stay if there’s anything I can do.”
“I don’t think there is. I’ll phone you if I need you. Good-by.”
Mason jumped in his car and made time out to the cross-town boulevard. It was a twenty-minute drive to where South Montet Avenue crossed the boulevard in the fifty-two-hundred block.