Chapter Ten
Gertrude Lade was sorting the morning mail on Mrs. Mason's desk when she heard the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock to open the back door to the attorney's office. She checked her watch and got up to check who the early visitor may be. After all, to her knowledge, Perry Mason and his wife were engaged in court.
"Hang up and lay off the chocolates, Gertie, the boss is in," Paul Drake's voice sounded from the door and met the assistant's inquiring gaze as she poked her head into the office.
"What are you doing here so early?" Gertrude Lade chirped and rushed into the room to relieve Della Mason of her coat and briefcase. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything's fine, Gertie. Don't worry," Della appreciated her assistant's concern. "Perry just felt he'd do better without me in court today."
"Is there anything I can do?" The young woman asked sweetly.
"Did you go through the mail?" The secretary asked as she strode past her into her office.
"I was just about to finish when you came in," Gertrude Lade replied and smiled as Della marveled at the rich bouquet of roses gracing her desk.
"Aren't they beautiful?" She asked after a beat and wondered why her boss was so unusually quiet.
"They are," Mrs. Mason finally croaked and bit down her dizziness while Paul took Gertie's arm to give her some space.
"Paul," Gertie protested as he dragged her away. "I haven't briefed Della on the mail yet."
"She's smart, she'll figure it out. Now do me a favor," he whispered so the secretary wouldn't hear. "Show me your latest issue of Spicy Bits. I want to know what they're up to."
When the door to the outer office closed behind them, Della sank onto her desk and smelled the roses that almost looked too perfect to be real. Six red ones for their years together, four white ones for their daughters, two yellow ones for their years apart and two more with a red tip for the time they had fallen in love.
"Oh, Perry," Della smiled as she remembered her husband's annual explanation of the symbolic colors of her favorite flowers.
Settling in her chair, she sighed and turned to the mail awaiting her attention. She sifted through the deadwood within seconds and piled the congratulations next to her bouquet. Then she focused on the business letters and opened a correspondence referring to a conversation she knew Perry had had with Eva Belter on the phone a few days ago.
Dear Perry,
I have met your request of rectification regarding your family and have arranged for an apology to be published in our next issue.
I deeply regret the discord this matter has created between us and sincerely hope this gesture will convince you to reconsider your decision regarding your proxy.
Yours truly,
Eva
Della gasped and glared at the lines on her desk as Paul stormed back into her office.
"You'll never believe it, Beautiful," the detective exclaimed, waving Gertrude Lade's tabloid edition in his hands.
"I think I may," the secretary replied quietly, her eyes still fixed on the letter addressed to Perry but so clearly meant for her eyes to see.
"The son of a gun actually made her print an apology," Paul Drake shook his head, still disbelieving. "Is there anything that husband of yours cannot swing?"
Raising her head, she looked at the flowers on her desk and brushed her fingers over the jeweled initials embellishing her neck.
"I don't know, Paul," she merely said, her reaction numbed by an explosion of emotions going off inside her throbbing head, causing her extremities to go limp.
It took mere seconds for her to feel too tired to keep her eyes open and to slowly drop her head onto her desk.
"Can I get you anything?" Gertrude Lade's voice sounded sweetly in her ears a short while later. Della was resting on the couch in Perry's office but couldn't remember how she had gotten there.
"What am I doing here lying down?" She asked under her breath, then realized Paul was holding her feet in his lap to help her circulation to kick back in.
"You fainted," Paul answered matter-of-fact.
The secretary moved, then held her head as it started to pound again, protesting her attempts to sit up.
"I'll get you a glass of water," Gertie offered thoughtfully and rushed off.
"Thank you," Della mumbled and failed to avoid Paul's worried gaze.
"Doc Hamilton will be here any minute now," the P.I. said, then smiled at her subduedly. "He said you're the only patient he ever had who knows how to postpone swooning until she's back at the office."
"Resilience runs in the family," Della Mason quipped.
"Obstinacy, too," the detective answered and helped her to regain her composure by rubbing her calves and shins.
"I should have taken you home," Paul said after a while.
"I asked you not to," the secretary replied. "He'll understand."
"I'm not worried about Perry right now," the private eye shook his head. "I'm worried about you."
"There you go," Gertie chirped as she rushed back in with a glass of fresh water.
Accepting the water with shaky hands, Della smiled at her assistant and propped up her head to take a sip.
"Would you get me an aspirin, too, please?" She asked meekly.
"In a jiffy," Gertrude Lade nodded and disappeared in the Masons' private bathroom.
"She's a doll." Della took another sip of water. "You should take her out sometime."
"There's no way you're going to attract attention away from you now, Beautiful." Paul smirked. "But nice try."
"I'm just saying that I know you like her," the secretary added.
"And I'm just saying that you're currently the center of our concern," the detective returned firmly. "So no match-making from the bedside."
"Only if you promise not to alarm Perry while he's still in session," Mrs. Mason insisted.
"You know he asked me to report back to him," Paul answered apologetically. "I cannot keep your condition from him, Della. I'm sorry."
"I'm not asking you to," she reassured him quietly. "I just don't want him to get distracted when he is in court."
"Some day your loyalty will get the better of you, Beautiful," Paul Drake sighed. "I hope you know that."
"But not today," Della smiled. "Today, I have other plans."