“That might not be advisable,” Mason said.
“What do you mean?”
“Some people,” Mason said.
She laughed. “I’ll use my discretion.”
“The situation may be a little different from what you anticipate. Some of the people who want to get in touch with him may be clothed with authority.”
She thought that over for a moment, then said, “Thanks for the tip, Mr. Mason. My husband has the car. I’m calling a taxicab. If you get in touch with Mr. Garvin, tell him I’m on the job, and that all he’ll owe me will be taxicab fare back and forth.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “It may be a good idea.”
He hung up the telephone, turned to Della Street. “I’m going out, Della. This time I’m going in my car, not in a taxicab.”
“Want a witness?” she asked.
“No, I think you can do more good right at the moment by staying on the job here and—” He broke off as the phone rang.
Della Street picked up her secretarial phone, said, “Who is it, Gertie? Yes, I’m quite sure Mr. Mason wants to talk with him... Homer Garvin on the line,” she said.
Mason grabbed the phone. “Hello, Homer. Where are you?”
Garvin said, “Listen closely, Mason. I may not have time for anything except a few words.”
“Shoot!” Mason told him.
Garvin said, “There’s a possibility Stephanie Falkner fired the shot that killed Casselman while she was acting in self-defense. I want you to get on the job and protect her.”
“All right,” Mason said. “If those are your instructions, that’s fine, but where the devil are you and what—?”
“I’m being a red herring,” Garvin interrupted.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m drawing the police off on a false scent. I’m going to try to keep on being a red herring. If I can get the police to accuse me of the crime, it will take a lot of the sting out of it when they finally back up and go after Stephanie.”
“Wait a minute,” Mason cautioned. “That’s dangerous. You may not be in the clear yourself.”
“I don’t want to be in the clear.”
“Flight,” Mason said, “can be taken as an indication of guilt and can be received in evidence as such.”
“All right then, I’ll resort to flight.”
“You can’t do that,” Mason protested. “You can’t pile up evidence against yourself. You may wind up behind the eight ball in this thing.”
“That’s all right. You take care of Stephanie. I’ll take care of myself. Your first duty is to Stephanie. Do whatever you can to protect her, regardless of where the chips fall.”
“Even if you become involved?”
“Even if I become involved.”
“What’s the idea?” Mason asked. “Just because your son was going with Stephanie Falkner and—?”
“Because,” Garvin interrupted, “I love the girl. I guess I always have. I had been afraid to admit it even to myself. I’m telling you that in confidence, Mason, and if you blab that to anyone, even to Della Street, I’ll break your damn neck. You wanted to know why. Now I’ve told you why.”
Mason paused thoughtfully.
“You on the line?” Garvin demanded.
“I’m on the line,” Mason said. “Here’s a piece of news for you. I talked with Eva Elliott. She’s out of your life for good and all. She won’t even go near the office. The place is closed up tighter than a drum.”
“We can’t have that,” Garvin said. “I’ve got a dozen deals pending and... You’ll have to get me someone, Mason.”
“I already have,” Mason said. “I talked with Marie Barlow on the phone. I told her Eva Elliott had been fired and that there was no one in the office. She’s grabbing a taxicab and going up. She has her old key. She says she’ll at least keep things in line.”
“That,” Garvin said, “is a load off my mind. Bless the girl. You said she was going to have a baby?”
“In about nine weeks.”
“Tell her to stick it out as long as she can,” Garvin said. “You may not hear from me for a while, Perry. I may be hard to find.”
“Damn it!” Mason said. “You can’t do that. You...”
There was a click at the other end of the line. The phone went dead.
Della Street raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry.
Mason said, “He may be stringing me along. He says he’s playing red herring. I’m to represent Stephanie Falkner and try to keep her from getting involved.”
“I heard your end of the conversation,” Della Street said. “What was it he said when you asked him if he felt he owed that duty just because his son jilted her?”
Mason grinned and said, “He told me that if I told anyone, even you, the answer to that, he’d break my damn neck... I’m going out, Della. I’ll be back in about an hour. If anybody wants me, you haven’t the faintest idea where I am.”
“Could I make a guess?”
“Certainly.”
“You’re going to Homer Garvin’s office and make certain there is no incriminating evidence for the police to find.”
“That,” Mason told her, “is an idea. It’s a very good idea. The only trouble is there are two things wrong with it.”
“What?”
“First,” Mason said, “as an attorney I couldn’t remove any evidence. That would be a crime. Second, I have something a lot more important to do.
“You must learn, Della, that an attorney cannot conceal evidence and he can’t destroy evidence.
“You must also learn that an attorney with imagination and an abiding belief in the innocence of the client he’s representing can do a great deal. We have two things to be thankful for.”
“What?”
“First, that we know in advance the police are going to trace the route taken by that taxicab, and second, the fact that Homer Garvin’s wife insisted their first child should be named Homer Jr.”
“That,” Della Street said, wrinkling her forehead, “is just half as clear as mud.”
“I’ll be back in an hour,” Mason said, and walked out.
Chapter Eight
Mason drove his car into the used car lot operated by Homer Garvin, Jr. He noticed that several salesmen were busy pointing out the good features of cars to prospective customers and was able to open the door of his car and get halfway to Garvin’s office before a salesman buttonholed him. “Want to make a deal on that car?” the salesman asked.
Mason shook his head. “I want to see Garvin.”
Mason opened the door of the office with the salesman at his heels. “That car of yours looks clean. We could make you a good deal on it, particularly if it’s a one-owner car,” the salesman said.
Mason paid no attention either to the salesman or to Garvin’s secretary, but crossed the office and jerked open the door marked, “Private.”
Homer Garvin looked up from his desk in surprise.
“Pardon the informality,” Mason said, “but this is important. I want to talk with you where we can be undisturbed. How the hell do I get rid of this salesman who is yapping at my heels?”
“There’s only one way that I know of,” Garvin said. “Buy one of our cars.”
Mason turned to the salesman. “This is a private conference. I’m not here trading automobiles.”
“Did you come in a cab or in your own car?” Garvin asked Mason.
“My own car.”
Garvin nodded to the salesman. “Take his car out for a little spin, Jim. See what sort of shape it’s in. Then check with our appraiser and see the best offer we can make. Mason is entitled to a top offer on his car and a discount on anything we have on the lot.”
“Go ahead,” Mason said, “if that will take the heat off. But we’re going places, Homer. If you have a man take my car out, you’ll have to furnish the transportation.”