The Case of the Truthful Liar

Disclaimer: Not my characters, no profit from this obviously ESG estate and the other conglomerates have that honour. Just borrowing them for a short while.

Chapter One

Della Street had started at the office of Perry Mason Attorney at Law in the November of 1946. They had been working together for nearly three years. She loved working for him. It was something that she could be absolutely passionate about. He was amazing, he was driven, fearless, unstoppable. He didn't expect her to keep up with him. He just assumed she would. Specifically that she was trotting along behind him with her notebook and usually she was. The long hours, crazy clients, court pressure, mixed with the search for answers, for evidence and for the truth. Throw in a dash of running a busy law office to the top of these. Della Street could not have dreamed such a job existed for her.

Every challenge followed closely by the next, if not landing right on top of an existing case. It felt like she could never get ahead of him, although sometimes if they had enough of a break between cases she was able to catch up on some jobs. Those that were meant to be part of the daily routine that is. Della Street had assumed that his previous secretaries had been far superior to her. She couldn't understand how they had done it because from what she could gather from Gertie they had rarely stayed passed six o'clock. The business itself had seemed to quadruple in activity since she had started, she put it down to simply being a different workload.

This day was one of those rare breathers between cases and to extend the peace Perry Mason had gone to San Diego for a couple of days. Della Street was using the time to investigate. In particular, she was reviewing the contacts files. She had been itching to do this for months, too many inconsistencies were cropping up. Della had had the filing cabinet moved from Perry Mason's private office into hers only two months prior. It wasn't as if he ever looked up a file himself.

She was checking on a contact for one of Paul's snitches. They had used him several times, in '46 before Della had started working for Perry Mason.

She was frowning because she couldn't find any reference to him although she had heard both Perry Mason and the rogue of a private detective Paul Drake discuss him. The frown was also because it had taken her this long to get to this specific task. Of course all the details for every case that had occurred since she had started was carefully logged under the relevant headings.

Driven by the need to create order out of chaos Della pulled out the file from the original 1946 case file. She made a comprehensive list of the people involved, witnesses, relatives, business partners. Della repeated this with a couple of earlier case files listing the people involved. She returned to the contacts file starting to cross reference. As she found a matching cross reference she drew a line threw the name, when she didn't she circled it. Over half the list was circled and she was only halfway through when Gertie came in offering to share her box of chocolates.

"What are you doing Della?" she asked curiously, only when they were alone, with no chance of being overheard and it was out of hours did Gertie call Della 'Della', at all other times it was Miss Street. Perry Mason, Attorney at Law could refer to her as his 'private' and 'confidential' secretary but those who worked for the big man knew, that while he might be the legal brains, Della Street ran his office, every aspect came under her scrutiny, sooner or later. This suited the employees to the ground because Della had brought order to an office where previously chaos had reigned unchecked.

"I was looking for a contact from '46, there seems to be a few missing details," Della admitted rubbing the side of her head, with her palm, in frustration.

"What do you mean missing?" Gertie asked with her wide eyed innocence.

"Whueell...," Della's eyes were searching through the files, scanning even faster than her fingers moved through the tabs, "not all the contacts are listed from the case files," Della told her. Gertie's eyes went even wider. Della was fairly sure, that, only because Mr Perry Mason was no where in the city, that Getrude Lade burst out into a serious round of giggling.

"Oh Della, no one kept those records up, they were lucky if the client details got in there." Gertie said,"I thought you knew that by now, none of them came close to keeping the office the way you do..."Gertie paused but decided she should continue, "That is let alone keeping up with the case work, why Mr Mason used to have three secretaries just to keep up with him and Jackson sort of ran the office, but sort of is well it wasn't really his strength and well … "

The were interrupted by a chuckle from the doorway and both women looked up it was private detective Paul Drake. Leaning against the doorway as if he had been there all afternoon, his blonde hair swept back on the sides but a fringe hanging over his face. The blonde locks were turning silver at his temples, it just gave him a rakish air rather than aging him. He was lighting a cigarette and glanced at Gertie while he shook out the match, giving a disappointed shake of his head. "Gertie...Gertie ... Gertie... I'm not sure that Mr Mason would appreciate you giving Della that sort of inside information."

"But Miss Street is our..."

"Yes," he interrupted her," ...but Miss Street doesn't realise just how good she is, you are ruining that." He took a drag on his cigarette. Della had that frown on her face, the one she got just before she told him off. Gertie was looking confused and she turned to Della, "You do know you are really, really good at this don't you Miss Street? No one has ever been able to keep up with Mr Mason before. Why, he went through more secretaries than he did coffee before you came along."

"He was very specific about what he wanted done," Della said, "I just do it."

"That's just it Miss Street, none of the others could keep it up before. I mean, Mrs Granger she kept Mr Mason's trials in order but the rest of it ... and when she retired, well ..." Gertie drifted off with a shrug, preferring not to think of those manic days.

"Come on I think you've said enough, can I take you ladies to dinner?" Paul attempted to distract them.

"Well, I've got this mess to deal with," Della explained.

"And I will deliver you back to this mess" he promised, "I am expecting my first report back from some operatives in an hour so I will get you back before then." He looked to Gertie, who glanced at her watch

"No I have a date, well really its just an old friend but I don't suppose it hurts to call it a date," she admitted with a sad little drop of her shoulders.

"Any man lucky enough to take you to dinner would consider it a date." Paul encouraged her with his sincere face. Gertie's face lit up brightly and she smiled in delight at him before exiting to the outer office. That sweet comment to Gertie stopped Della launching an outright attack on him, her face had flickering emotions, settling into suspicious amusement.

"Well?" he challenged her, knowing she had probably skipped lunch.

"Okay," she conceded, "if there has never been any order then another hour probably won't hurt."

"Good girl," he encouraged her.

"Besides I have some questions," she said pointedly before turning to get her coat. Paul flinched. He should have known she was not going to leave a mess unless her curiosity had been triggered by something greater. He gave her his best cheeky smile, "No point asking me, I am just a foot soldier."

"Mmhhm same as me heh?"

'Exactly same as you girl, gosh I'm hungry. Perry did tell me to make sure that you ate and didn't stay in the office after nine. Your questions will have to wait for the boss."

Her face went from suspicion, to annoyance to plain amusement, "Paul Drake, you really are dreadful you know."

"I try," he grinned holding the door open for her.'

The Airport was buzzing for a Thursday night, Della Street picked Perry Mason up from the kerb handling his big car with ease in the heavy traffic. He greeted her enthusiastically and launched straight into the details of his trip. Describing the people he had met, who they were and what they were like. Her apartment was closer to the airport than his, he found it convenient for her to use his car in his absence. Then she would pick him up, drive to her apartment and he could continue on to his. Normally she would have punctuated his story with her own questions. They both had the same insatiable level of curiosity about people, what made them tick, what made them act. Her silence heralded a problem. He also knew that if she didn't volunteer he would have to extract it from her.

He decided to be direct. "Have you got something to ask me?" as she pulled the big car into a stopping zone out the front of her block.

"Nuuoooo," she said softly, not sure how to start now that he was here.

"Della?" He pressed and she turned to meet his gaze.

"I should go, I wouldn't want you to get a parking ticket." Her eyes were serious but her tone was teasing. He was not to be so easily distracted.

"Misdemeanor," he dismissed, "Tell me." He waited not moving, she considered leaving it until the next day but she wanted to know. She sighed, looking down at her hands clutching her handbag that she had retrieved from the seat next to her.

"You told me that all of the contacts files were kept on every case you had ever had," she started.

"Yes."

"Did you know, that before I came, only the names of your clients were kept in that file?"

"Its better the way it is now," was his prompt reply. His eyes moving over her face trying to read her.

"Why didn't you tell me Chief? And that is not the only thing I didn't know Jackson used to run the office. You didn't tell me that and I just took it over, and..."she got this out before her courage failed her.

"Are you worried you hurt his feelings?" he interrupted her and she could hear the amusement in his tone.

"Well yes maybe" Della admitted.

"Are you worried you gave him more time to spend on the things I pay him for the like reading law?" Perry Mason continued.

"No but..." she said uneasily, he shook his head.

"Listen Della, when I first saw you, that day in court. You tried to pass your boss a note and he ignored it. You insisted and he snatched it and threw it away. I picked it up later, I had been at the back of the court, I wanted to know what Judge Kelley was like but how could I miss what a mess your boss was making of the case. I saw what you had written and that you kept trying to get his attention even after he had dismissed you. You probably knew you were going to be fired but you didn't care. It was the information he needed, he was too dumb to listen to you. You did that and to most people watching they wouldn't even have known what you did. Insistent and unobtrusive. I picked it up and read it, I knew you were the person I needed working with me. I'd listened to the case, your boss he preferred to loose rather than contemplate you could help him. I wanted to chase you then and there but I had to defend a client. Of course by the time I got to his offices he had already marched you out the door. It took me another six months to find you." He grinned at the memory, he hadn't even seen her face then from where he had been standing at the back of the court.

He put his hand on the steering wheel next to hers, "I knew we would be great together and we are. So I didn't tell you all the things that had been going on in the office because I wanted it to be your office. Reporting directly to me and only to me, criminal law is not a business for someone by himself, and in you and Paul, we have the perfect team. I knew then that there was no assistant to compare with you." He paused and winked at her, "So Miss Street if you decide you need to sack all the staff or change buildings or increase the staff, or reduce your hours go ahead and do it. Just as long as when I need you, you drop the rest of it and come running."

She tilted her chin up and gave him a cheeky side long look, "Have I let you down yet,"

"No," he said earnestly.

"Okay then, I'll see you in the morning." She felt a warm rush from that story, he had never told her that before.

"Della there is no one else like you, you know that don't you?" He exited the car and held the drivers door open for her.

"I wasn't chasing compliments you know Chief," she said a blush covering her cheeks.

"I know, its just I forget sometimes, that ..."

"That what?"

He grinned at her, "Sometimes I just forget to say there is no one like you and no one comes close." He slid into the spot she had vacated behind the wheel when she got out of the car.

"Chief."

He wound down the window to stick his head out, his eyebrows raised in response.

"You haven't ever said it before you know."

"Haven't I?" he looked confused, "I'm sure I have told you every day since I dragged you into my office," she laughed at him before waving her hand in farewell.

"Goodnight."

"Della?" his tone stopped her.

"Yes Chief?"

"Maybe to make up for my lapses ..." he grinned, "in information sharing..."he had a suggestive query in his tone.

"Yhyes?"she drawled, her eyes narrowing slightly, but the amusement still shone in them.

"Maybe you should dump your date for Halloween and come with Paul and I to the Annual Glow Fest Charity Ball?" His grin was cheeky, his dimple adorable and she wasn't even conscious that her ability to refuse him anything was slipping further and further away.

"Two charming escorts, it could turn a girls head."

"Is that a yes?"

"That is a maybe," she corrected him. "Goodnight Chief." This was said with an air of finality.

"Goodnight Miss Street," he responded.

He watched her going inside and chat to the doorman, before heading to the elevators. He smiled to himself confident that the 'maybe' was a 'yes'. His grin didn't disappear all the way home. Of course they had been out, outside of work hours, they had gone to lunch, a few picnics and horse riding in the desert, although, that had involved a case. They had even danced before, but only at a dinner following on from working late. This would mean dressing up solely for going out dancing. His grin broadened. He wasn't sure what made him more pleased, that her 'maybe' was really a 'yes' or that she was going to dump her date.