CHAPTER TWO

Perry had been morose, irritable, and at times just plain miserable to be around. Della had seen his moods before, but she also hadn't needed to contend with Mrs. Robertson. She thought nothing of contacting him at all hours over the slightest thing. If Della would complain then her boss would think she was jealous, but then maybe she was. To her mind Perry Mason was acting like a lovesick schoolboy. If she accused him of it he would deny it vehemently, but she had seen his head turned by a pretty face. That is until the pretty face turned out to not be what she seemed.

How often had Perry vowed his love for her and he had never really gotten involved with anyone else, it was more like a temporary infatuation. She waited patiently, and he always went home with her. Even his years in San Francisco there had been no serious relationships, just as she had found no one to match him.

It was awful to feel like she was walking on eggs in this situation with a woman she had to polite to because she was a client. Della felt like there was a fake smile plastered on her face so often she was afraid it might freeze like that. Because she always did her best at her job she did no less now, but there was no real joy in it even if it was to save the husband.

She began to tap her toe as more and more time passed, and Perry Mason did not appear. She had heard him assure Glenn Robertson that if they needed him for Laura's defense he would be there. At that moment she prayed, "Dear God no, I don't want to go through this again." Glenn had given him a sour look so maybe there would be hope there would be no further contact.

So there her boss and lover sat not speaking, not trying to stop her as she cleaned off the defense desk and prepared to leave. Paul Jr. was taking the police sergeant to dinner so basically she alone. As she left the courtroom she turned to look at him and he was slowly painfully getting to his feet and heading to the room where they had taken Laura Robertson.

The minutes seemed to creep by after she made her way through the crowd of well-wishers giving her messages for her boss. Again, she plastered on a smile and said all the wrong things. By the time she made it outside and everyone was going in different directions she could feel a headache coming on, just what she didn't need. So, the toe tapping increased.

She heard the door opened but she didn't turn around. Then she smelled his Aramis cologne, but she still didn't look at him. He said her name, she turned her head slightly, he put his arm around her and said, "let's go home". They walked down the stairs slowly and he handed her into the limousine. He directed the driver to take them to the hotel for their bags and on to the airport. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes.

She waited for him to begin to speak but when he didn't Della informed him, "you can go back home if you like, but I am exhausted and want to rest. I'll call the airline when we get to the hotel and tell them I am ill."

He looked at her sharply. "This is not usually like you Della."

"This hasn't been our usual kind of case," she remarked.

"What does that mean?" He wanted to know.

Lowering her voice she said, "I'm not discussing it here."

When they got to the hotel she didn't wait for help out of the limo, but head held high marched into the lobby, onto the elevator, and up to their suite. Perry followed slowly behind her.

When he arrived in the suite she was on the phone with the airline and he told her to cancel both flights. She put her hand over the mouthpiece, "you're sure."

"I'm sure." He intoned.

He was sitting on the love seat when she hung up the phone. "Come sit by me," he requested.

Standing in front of him she remarked, "I really want to get into something more comfortable. It has been a long day."

She didn't want to tell him this day had caused the start of a splitting headache. If she went down that road he would begin to question her and feeling very vulnerable this was no way to start the discussion that was inevitable.

Perry reached out his hand and squeezed her fingers. "I'm sorry Baby, go take a hot shower, get into something comfortable, and I'll call for some drinks and appetizers. Later we can go out for a quiet dinner or eat right here."

Della squinted her eyes at him but didn't pull her hand away allowing him to massage it. Yet it was obvious he hadn't a clue how upset she felt. The case was over, his client was saved, they could go home and put it behind them. Finally, she told him, "fine you do that."

Perry watched her go, back straight, shoulders rigid, no smile, and she never looked back at him with that familiar endearing smile. He would have to walk carefully if he didn't want Miss Street to demand he explain things he wasn't even clear about in his own mind.

He sat there with his head in his hands trying to figure out his actions and reactions to the woman he thought he loved so long ago. What did that mean to his relationship with Della, who he considered his other half. If anyone would have told him he could act so stupidly he would have called them crazy. Yet here he was on a precipice and it would take some fancy footwork to not go over.

When he heard the shower going he finally called down for some pre-dinner snacks. If they could relax for the first time in weeks perhaps they could discuss things in a calm and collected manner. Walking to his closet he hung up his coat and jacket, took off his tie, and unbuttoned the two top buttons of his shirt. There was something in his pocket sticking out just above the top. He pulled it out and realized it was the key to Laura private office.

He heard the shower turn off but he just stood there undecided what to do. Wearing a pink velvet robe, her wet curls wrapped like a turban in a towel that is where she found him. "What's in your hand?" she inquired.

As if he was in a trance he held it out to her. She took it in her hand and saw the stamp of the Sawyer Building and immediately knew what it meant. Throwing it on the floor Della turned, slammed her bedroom door, and locked it.