BeccaRamsey: I'm glad you enjoyed reading the dinner scene. I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy this next chapter just as much.
The Richmond Community Theater was bustling with activity as Brad Smythe parked his car. Paul Drake looked out the window and was amazed to see that it was snowing. In reality, the snow was large balls of cotton. A man who appeared to be on the verge of a panic attack was anxiously chasing down the cotton to glue it with more cotton on paper cut-outs ofevergreen trees. The gusts of people walking by oblivious to the man's plight were causing balls of the cotton to fly from the man's arms, thus creating the illusion of snow.
"They're preparing for a Christmas production of Dicken's 'A Christmas Carol' a couple months from now," explained Smythe. "Janet's playing Belle, Young Scrooge's love interest. I'll go ask someone if you've seen her."
As Smythe walked in one direction around the theater, Drake started moving in the other. At first he was jarred by the sound of heavy chains being dragged inches from his feet. He was then nearly trampled by a man in a foreboding black hood and robe, puffs of smoke from a cigarette coming from beneath the hood. A large woman in period costume stepped down firmly on Drake's foot and didn't even apologize as she walked by. A small child limped by uttering over and over, "God bless us, everyone."
Drake kept his eyes peeled for the beautiful red head he'd been pursuing. He stopped the man carrying cotton and asked if he would mind talking.
"Just make it fast," said the man. "Do you know how hard it is to find snow in California?" Drake would have laughed if he hadn't recognized that the man wasn't joking. He asked about Janet. The man just snickered. He explained that she was holding up the entire rehearsal. Everyone had been frantically looking for her and hadn't found any trace of her. No, it wasn't like her to show up to a rehearsal late. She usually was very early. Yes, there was a friend of hers who Janet often contacted before arriving at the theater. No, she hadn't contacted her this evening. Drake began to get worried, but when he asked who, the man pointed to a woman in a sweater covered in pictures of holly and ivy. A red headed woman approached her and began to talk anxiously to her. "Oh," said the man pasting fake snow to fake trees. "There she is."
Drake didn't need to be told this.
Paul Drake slowly approached the two women. He was silent, hoping the conversation would keep Janet occupied so that he could get close enough to grab her if she tried to run again. As he was thinking this, Janet looked up from her conversation. Her eyes became wide. Her friend looked startled as well. Drake lunged forward, but Janet was already moving again, and moving fast. As Drake ran to the corner of the theater, the other woman threw her arms around him to slow him down. He tried to struggle out of her grip, but she was strong. Under any other circumstances, Drake would have enjoyed this. As the case was, he pushed out as harshly as he could and sent the young woman staggering back. Muttering apologies, Drake rushed around the corner. Janet was already out of sight, but as Drake rounded the next corner, he caught a glimpse of red hair again.
Janet was rushing towards a car in the parking lot. Once she reached that car, Drake would never be able to catch up to her on foot. He thought of turning to seek out his new friend, but then two strong arms wrapped themselves around Janet. It was Brad Smythe.
Smythe was muttering something softly into Janet's ears as Drake took his time approaching the two.
"I think we found her," he said.
"Baby, this is my new friend," said Smythe. "Paul Drake. He's a detective working for Mr. Perry Mason, the famous lawyer."
"I know who he is," said Janet, looking ready to spit in Drake's face. "I don't want to talk to him."
"It's Mr. Mason that wants to talk to you," said Drake.
"I don't want to talk to him neither. Why can't you just leave me alone? I don't know what you want," said Janet.
"Calm down, honey," saidSmythe soothingly. "There's no reason we can't all be friendly now. Let's all go out and get something to eat and we'll all be in a better mood then."
Janet's face just showed hatred and contempt for Drake, but her boyfriend's loving but powerful grip wasn't giving her much choice in the matter. She allowed her boyfriend to get into her car with her as he instructed Drake to follow them in his car.
> > > > > >
The cars stopped at the Stanley Gardens Café'. It wasn't the classiest restaurant in L.A., but it was a step in quality above Lemming Burgers. Janet Redding seemed to be calming down as she sipped the coffee. She was sitting next to the wall, with Brad Smythe sitting next to her at the end of the booth and blocking her way to the aisle. Drake was sitting on the other side of the booth facing the other two.
"How do you know Helen Carmichael?" asked Drake.
"Helen who?" said Janet. Her voice was bitter, raspy, but at the same time sensuous. She definitely possessed a great deal of stage presence.
"You know who I mean," said Drake. "Helen Carmichael. The girl on trial."
"I've never seen the girl before in my life," said Janet. She sounded sincere, but she was also an experienced actress. Drake had never seen her act before, so he had no idea how skilled she was at making lies appear to be the truth.
"Why were you at her court appearance, then?"
"Just a random court case. I wanted to see the show."
"Honey, tell him the truth," said Smythe. Janet looked extremely offended as she turned to her boyfriend.
"You don't even believe me? I can't believe my own man doesn't believe me."
"But, honey…"
"I thought I might get cast as a lawyer someday. I was researching the part," insisted Janet.
"By watching Mr. Mason?" questioned Drake.
"No. By watching Hamilton Burger."
"How about Bill Anders?"
"Bill Anders? Who's that?"
"The man Helen Carmichael is on trial for killing. How well did you know him?"
"I never met the guy."
"That seems strange. He's met almost every woman in Los Angeles."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure he was a great guy."
"He's not an ex-boyfriend of yours? A brief encounter in your past, perhaps? Was there any reason you might have believed he deserved to die?"
"I had nothing against the guy," insisted Janet.
"That makes you one woman that didn't," said Drake.
Janet began to slide down thebooth toward the aisle. Smythe put a hand on her leg to signal her to stop.
"I need to use the ladies room," said Janet. Drake nodded to Smythe, signaling this was acceptable. The other man rose, allowing the lady to slide out of the booth and rise in the aisle. She stepped quickly towards the restrooms.
> > > > > >
Five minutes passed. Drake ran to the restrooms. He paced around, waiting. Five more minutes passed. Drake braced himself and then pushed through the door to the ladies room. Women screamed, slapped him, and swung their purses at his shoulders, despite Drake's most adamant apologies. He kicked down the door to each stall but, unfortunately, or fortunately, they were empty. He finally made it to the wall on the opposite side of the restroom from the door. A window had been forced wide open. Drake could see a fresh set of footprints in the ground outside leading to the road.
Drake returned to his booth.
"She ran again," he announced.
"Silly girl," said Smythe. "I'll go check for her back at her place."
"I don't think she'd go back there now," said Drake. "Is there any place else she'd run to? A friend's house? A relative's?"
Smythe just shook his head.
> > > > > >
The next day, Janet Redding rose with a smile from her comfortable bed at the Maltese Falk Inn. She was in a good mood as she wrapped her hotel bathrobe around her and decided to head for continental breakfast in the lobby. As she opened the door, her path was blocked by the familiar figure of Paul Drake. He gently forced her back inside and slammed and locked the door behind him. Janet moved to the window and began to force it open.
"I wouldn't try escaping that way if I were you," said Drake. "You see that man staring at his watch down there? He works for me. There's another man that works for me waiting at the end of this hall, and another one guarding the hotel's main entrance. There's another one guarding the back door."
Janet sighed defeatedly and dropped down onto the hotel bed.
"You know, I had to call just about everyone in my agency to catch you," said Drake. "I have to pay them all for this. There were others staking out every hotel this side of Los Angeles watching for you. May I use your phone?"
Janet simply remained silent. Drake smiled and whistled as he dialed.
"Good work, Paul," said Mason heartily. "Just make sure she doesn't go anywhere."
"You don't have to worry about that," said Drake. "Not this time."
"I'm going to need to have a long talk with Ms. Redding. I'm on my way with a subpoena right now. And Paul, after I get there I want you to leave and start checking every store that sells shoes you can. Start by the Anders and Anderson building."
"What am I looking for?"
"Ask the salesmen if they remember someone coming in and purchasing a pair of women's high-heeled shoes, size 8, in the last month."
"Are you crazy?" asked Drake, not for the first time in his friendship with Perry Mason. "Do you know how many pairs of shoes like that they sell in a day, let alone a month? Why should they remember these?"
"I think they'll remember this pair. Let me explain why…"
> > > > > >
After finishing the conversation with Drake, Mason hung up and turned to Della.
"Would you mind giving Taylor & Jackson in Chicago a call?"
"What for?" asked Della. "And what's this about the girl and the pair of shoes?"
"I'm just trying my hand at preparing a case for the prosecution," said Mason. "Against Bill Anders' true killer." He grinned slyly.
"Hamilton Burger will object," insisted Della.
"That's never stopped me before," replied Mason in a sing-song voice. He kissed his secretary gently on the top of her head, obviously in high spirits.
A/N: Well, readers. Here's your chance to play detective. I've given you all the clues. Have you followed Perry Mason's train of thought? Did Helen Carmichael really kill Bill Anders? If she didn't, who did, and why? You only have a chapter or two left to guess.