A/N - If anyone's reading this story, please review. Whether you have good things to say or bad, I want to know how I'm doing and if there's anything wrong I can fix.

"On the side of the Defense or the Prosecution?" asked the TV reporter. "That's the question everyone has been asking since yesterday, after defense attorney Perry Mason actually led murder suspect Helen Carmichael to deliver incriminating evidence against herself..."

"It seems Perry Mason has always wanted to be a prosecutor after all," said another reporter. "He'd be very good at it. He practically has his own client on death row..."

"What's this guy thinking?" chimed in yet another reporter. "He seems to be doing all the D.A.'s work for him! I mean, with defense like this, who needs a prosecutor?"

"In court news today," said one more reporter. "You know it looks bleak when renowned defense attorney Perry Mason gives up on his own client. Yesterday, he practically led Helen Carmichael to confess to the crime she's been accused of in front of judge and jury. In fact, it almost looked like District Attorney Hamilton Burger was going to come to Carmichael's defense!"

Perry Mason flipped through a few more channels. They all seemed to be saying basically the same thing. Mason calmly switched the TV set off and spun around in his chair.
"It gets better," said Della Street. "You made the front page of the newspaper."

Paul Drake handed the paper to Perry Mason, who slowly rocked back and forth in his seat as he scanned the article. Mason placed the paper down on his desk, carefully folded out the crinkles, and then looked into the blank faces of Paul Drake and Della Street.
"What's a matter?" he asked.
"We're just wondering the same thing as everyone else," said Drake. "What the Heck were you thinking?" Mason turned his chair to face Della.
"It does look pretty bad, Chief," she agreed.

"It looks more than bad," piped in Helen Carmichael. "You're fired." Mason just continued to rock calmly back and forth. "I'm not kidding. I'm letting you go. My friends have all advised me to find another lawyer."

"One of those friends betrayed you," said Mason.

"Shut up!" yelled Helen. "You betrayed me! You didn't even try in there yesterday."

"I know it doesn't look like it right now," said Mason, addressing everyone present, "but I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?" asked Drake.

"Actually, I'm not exactly sure," admitted Mason. "It just seemed like a really good idea at the time."

"That's it," said Helen, rapidly turning on her heels and walking towards Perry Mason's office door. "I'm out of here. I never want to see any of you again."

"Your friends are right about you," said Mason. "You're much too high- strung. Too short-tempered and impetuous. Let's talk for a moment about who betrayed who. I told you to be completely honest in there. You promised me you would. You betrayed me."

"What was I supposed to do?" said Helen. "Tell everyone I did say everything in that letter? Prove that it wasn't just a hoax? I'd end up getting the death penalty. I may never be able to repair the damage you've just done. The damage you've been doing since I first met you. I'm going to die because of you!"

"See what I mean?" said Mason, still as calm as ever. "Much too high- strung. I was just trying to repair the damage you did by lying to the D.A. I told you the same way I told all of my witnesses for the defense, perjury can only hurt us. The more you lie, the guiltier you look." "They didn't have to know I was lying!" screamed Helen.

"They would have found out sooner or later," said Mason, for the first time raising his voice, but only by a decibel. "It was better that they heard the truth from you than from a witness for the prosecution."

"You should have never let me take the stand!" said Helen.

"Then we would never have been able to dispute the evidence against you," said Mason. "You should have just been honest like I told you to. Now that I had to coax you to tell the truth, it's going to hurt our case."

"We don't have a case!" said Helen. "We have nothing because I'm getting a new lawyer." She made a few wide strides to the door. Just as she turned the knob, Mason's voice stopped her once more.

"They can prove that you threatened to kill Bill Anders," said Mason. "But proving that you actually murdered him is something different altogether."

Helen left the office, slamming the door behind her. Paul Drake and Della Street were still frowning at Perry Mason. "For a lawyer," said Drake, "your defense of yourself still isn't all that convincing."

"It was a half-baked plan," admitted Mason. "But I still think it might just work."

"What do you mean?" said Della. "Chief, I know this isn't something you're used to, but you've just been fired."

"She'll be back," said Mason. "And we'll be ready when she does. Because then I'll have the evidence I need to prove beyond a shadow of doubt that she is innocent of murder."

"What kind of evidence?" asked Drake.

"The surprise witness for the prosecution," said Mason. "Now that Burger has probably discarded her, she's going to make a perfect witness for the defense."

"Where are you going to find this witness?" asked Drake.

"I'm not, Paul," said Mason. "You're a private investigator. That's what I pay you for." "What!" gasped Drake. "Perry, I'm not even sure I want to be involved in this anymore. And, besides, I don't even know who I'm looking for."
"Sure you do," said Mason.
"I do?"
"You must have noticed her," said Mason. "Extremely beautiful woman. Long, curly reddish-brown hair. Teardrop shaped crystal blue eyes. About five-foot-five, ninety-one pounds. The figure of a super model. Or perhaps an actress. Oxford shirt and plaid skirt."
"Are you a poet or a lawyer?" asked Drake. Mason said nothing. "Yeah. I noticed her."
"You spent most of the trial staring at her legs," said Mason. Drake blushed slightly.
"Yeah. Well, legs aren't going to be enough for me to find her by," said Drake.

"Don't worry," said Mason. "You'll have more. And I know just where to get it..."

> > > > > >

"Hello, Hamilton," said Perry Mason.
"Come in, Perry," said the D.A., gesturing Mason to enter his office. Mason graciously accepted, stepping into Burger's office and waiting for the district attorney to invite him to take a seat. Burger did so, entering the office and closing the door behind him.
"You're probably wondering to what you owe this visit," said Mason.
"There's only one thing I'm wondering," said Drake. "And that's the same thing that everyone else is. What were you thinking back there?"
"It seems crazy, I know," said Mason.
"That's an understatement," said Burger. "Perry, we've known each other for years. That wasn't you. It was like you weren't even trying. I even thought that maybe you were starting to show some sympathy for me and letting me win for a change."
"Don't be fooled, Hamilton," said Mason. "I still intend to prove that Helen Carmichael is not guilty."
"I just don't get it," said Burger. "What's your strategy?"
"Now, Hamilton," said Mason, "you know I can't tell you that. It wouldn't be professional."
"You turned on your own client," said Burger. "I don't see anything professional about that."
"I know it looks pretty bad right now," said Mason. "That's why I came here. I was hoping you would pay me a professional courtesy."
"What is that?" asked Burger.
"I need to know who your surprise witness was going to be," said Mason.
"I'm not sure I can tell you that," said Burger. "It might hurt my case."
"I don't see how it could," said Mason. "Hamilton, we may be on opposite sides of the courtroom, but we're actually both after the same thing. Truth. Justice. You know you want to find the truth just as much as I do. We're just both going at it different ways."
"I guess we are really on the same team," said Burger. "It seems like that more than ever now.
"A witness stepped forward claiming she had written that anonymous letter to the police. She was going to testify that she overheard Helen Carmichael's entire plot on a train ride from New York to California. It seems redundant now, since you were able to have Helen Carmichael deliver basically the same testimony. It sounded better straight from the horse's mouth anyway. That's pretty much all I can tell you."

"That can't be it," said Mason. "Surely you checked on the reliability of the witness. Name, background check. All the usual procedures."
"Of course," said Burger. "It's not going to be of that much help, though. Just a simple working-class girl. Waitress at a cheap burger joint. Her name's Janet Redding. I talked to her boss, Dabney Lemming. Lemmings says she's very reliable. Never misses a day of work. Always shows up on time."
"Do you have an address?" asked Mason.
"Not a personal one," said Burger.
"I meant for the burger joint."
"Oh, yeah," said Burger. He took a small sticky note from his desk and jotted something down on it in pencil. "May I ask why you need it, or wouldn't that be professional?"
"Since you no longer think Ms. Redding's testimony will be of any good to you, I was thinking of borrowing her as a witness for the defense." Mason took the note from Burger. "Thank you, Hamilton. And good luck. You'll need it."

> > > > > >

Back at Perry Mason's office, Drake accepted the note.
"It's not going to do us much good," said Drake.
"It's all we've got to work with," said Mason. "And we have to find that girl before the trial resumes. It's the only chance we have."
"Are you sure this will do us any good?" asked Drake. "I mean, what can a witness for the prosecution tell us?"
"I have a theory," said Mason. "And Janet Redding is the only one who can prove it."
"How sure are you about this theory?" asked Drake.
"I'm about ready to stake my career on it," said Mason. "In fact, I think I am staking my career on it. If I can't prove that Helen Carmichael is being framed, I'm going to retire from law forever."

Della Street gasped.

"I'll do what I can," said Drake. With that, he headed out the door.

Perry Mason wound his fingers behind his neck and leaned far back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment. Della almost thought he had fallen asleep. Then Mason straightened up and began to pound a rhythm on his desk with an ink pen. A slow, steady rhythm, like the tick-tock of a clock. The click-clack of the pen.
"Chief," said Della. "What are you doing?"
"Just thinking, Della," said Mason. "Just thinking."
"About what?" asked Della.
"The ultimate question," said Mason. "If Helen Carmichael didn't kill Bill Anders, then whodunit?"