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There were tears in her eyes. “Mr. Mason, what can I do to convince you of my good faith?”

“Nothing, now.”

“You’ve closed your mind against me, haven’t you?”

“No. You’re my client. I’m going to see that your rights are protected. I’m going to see that any evidence presented against you is the truth. I’m going to cross-examine any witness who takes the stand and testifies against you.”

“You don’t believe me, but you’ll represent me?”

“I’m keeping my opinions in abeyance. I’m going to do what I can. Did you kill Lutts?”

“No.”

“All right. I want you to do exactly as I say. Do you have some woman whom you can trust?”

“You mean to tell what happened?”

“No, no,” Mason said impatiently. “I mean trust, with ordinary confidence. Someone who’s level-headed, calm, and sufficiently prominent to—”

“Yes, there’s Ruth Marvel.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s the president of our Current Topics club. She’s remarkably well informed.”

“And a good friend?”

“A very good friend.”

Mason said, “Do exactly as I tell you. Take your car, drive home, go in and change your clothes, put on an entirely different type of outfit — get something dark and sombre. Then ask Ruth Marvel if she’ll go out to look over some property with you, some property that you intend to buy. Tell her that it’s very important, that you’d like to have her opinion on it, but don’t tell her where the property is.”

Sybil Harlan nodded.

“Tell her that you’ll be by for her,” Mason said. “Then grab the paper and open it to property that’s listed for sale in the classified ads. Find a place that’s not too far away but a place that’s on the outskirts somewhere.”

Again Mrs. Harlan nodded.

“Are you getting this?” Mason asked.

“Yes, it’s simple.”

“It’s simple,” Mason said, “but it’s tricky as hell. You have to do exactly what I tell you to do.”

“All right. I get Ruth Marvel. I get her to go with me. I get the listings of property that’s not too far out.”

“That’s right. Now then, we come to the tricky part. After you have Ruth Marvel ready to go with you, you get in your car and start out. Then you tell your friend that the trouble with looking at property in your own machine is that there’s always somebody to take down the licence number — they trace the number, find out who owns the automobile, and then you’re pestered to death with real estate salesmen trying to interest you in that property or selling you something else. You always prefer starting out in your car but take a taxi for the last part of the trip. Do you understand?”

Mrs. Harlan nodded.

“So,” Mason said, “you then remember something you have to telephone about. You get out of your car at a telephone booth. You telephone the Drake Detective Agency. Here’s the number. I’ve written it on one of my cards. You ask for Paul Drake. You tell him who you are. Now then, Paul Drake will tell you where to drive. You drive to this address, stop at the first available parking space, park your car and get out.

“Within a few minutes a taxicab will come along. Now, be sure it’s a Red Line taxicab. Try not to pay too much attention to it, and don’t be too conspicuous. You settle back in the car and tell the driver to drive on down the street, that you want to look at several pieces of property. Tell your friend that you have suddenly discovered you’re short of money but that if she’ll pay for the cab and save the receipt, you’ll give her the money later. Tell her to be sure to save the receipt so that you can have a proper voucher for your income tax deduction.”

“Mr. Mason, this is all terribly complicated and—”

“Shut up,” Mason said. “Listen. We haven’t much time. Do exactly as I tell you. Have the cab drive around several streets while you look at different houses. When the meter registers a dollar and sixty-five cents, have him turn around and drive back in the direction of the place where you have parked your car. Under no circumstances are you to say anything more than the bare necessities to the taxi driver. Be sure and get Ruth to pay off the cab. Encourage her to talk with the cab driver as much as possible, and when the meter reaches two dollars and ninety-five cents, apparently come to the last place you were looking for. Stop the driver and have Ruth pay off the cab. Tell Ruth to give him three dollars and a half, and you’ll pay her later. Do you understand all that?”

“I understand it, Mr. Mason. But it seems to me we’re wasting a lot of valuable time, and I don’t see why—”

“If you understand what you’re to do,” Mason interrupted, “you’re wasting time talking about it. Just be sure you understand exactly what you’re to do.”

She took the card Mason had given her with Paul Drake’s number. “Very well,” she said dubiously, “I’ll do it and—”

“Now don’t misunderstand me,” Mason said. “Your life may depend on it. You do exactly as I have told you. Follow instructions to the letter. You understand?”

“I understand, but there’s no need to do that with Ruth. I can tell her exactly what I’m trying to do, and—”

“Don’t do it,” Mason warned. “Do exactly as I’ve told you. You may be able to get a lucky break — and you may not.”

Chapter 6

Mason unlocked the exit door of his private office.

Della Street looked up from the evening newspaper. “How goes it?” she asked.

“We’ve got work to do, Della. Thanks for the note.”

“Chief, did you notice her shoes and stockings?”

“I didn’t see any difference, Della. They looked just the same to me.”

“Well, they aren’t the same. The other shoes, the ones she wore this morning, were open-toed and had a small design in red leather at the instep. The shoes she had on this afternoon were solid white sport shoes, with no design in color and no open toes.”

“What about the stockings?” Mason asked.

“Well, Chief, this morning when she was in I took particular notice of the way she was dressed — you know how we women are about such matters — and I was impressed by the way she had matched every piece of her outer clothing. Her white shoes with just enough red trim to match the off-white jacket with red trim, the white bag and white pleated skirt. But I especially took note of her stockings. They were a very soft flesh shade, so that they blended in with the white skirt and shoes and yet did not make her legs appear too pale, and they were seamless. That was important with that outfit.

“But this afternoon when she was in, she wore hose that were on the beige side — and they had seams.”

“Well, of course, she could have changed them,” Mason said.

“When? Didn’t she take you up there to the house and then go directly to the beauty shop?”

“I think that was her plan. I didn’t cross-examine her to find out if she’d changed her plans.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Mason said, grinning, “I thought it would be better not to know the answers. Thanks for the tip, Della, but after all, she’s our client. We’re representing her. We take her story at face value.”

“What do we do now?”

“We go down to Paul Drake’s office. He’s probably got that taxi located by this time, and Mrs. Harlan is going to call his number as soon as she gets a friend of hers located.”

“Was her gun in the car?” Della Street asked.

Mason’s face was wooden. “Someone had broken into the glove compartment. The gun was missing. Let’s go.”