A few years later…
"So I suggested that when his neighbor brings homemade brownies to his door and asks if he can spare a glass of milk, she doesn't really care if he has any milk or not," Della Street said, her voice slightly exasperated.
Her employer, Perry Mason, laughed aloud. He and Della were in the parking garage of the Brent Building in downtown Los Angeles. The rush of five o'clock traffic was winding down as the two of them talked, leaning nonchalantly on the hood of Mason's car. "Jackson was probably afraid she wanted free legal advice or something."
"I don't know if it's that or if he knows exactly what she had in mind, but he's not got the slightest idea of how to proceed." Della shook her head. "Where did you find him, Chief? The man acts as if he's lived his entire life under a rock on a library sidewalk."
Mason laughed again. "He came highly recommended by an old law school professor of mine. I only hope the poor man survives."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"You scare him to death," Mason said, grinning mischievously.
"Me? What have I done?"
"You've exuded sex appeal all over the place," Mason replied. "Jackson is terribly frightened by sex appeal."
Della buried her face in her hands. "Oh, no," she moaned. "Please tell me you are joking."
"Nope." Mason's grin widened. "Told me so himself. About a month after he started working here. Came into my office one day and asked if you could be restricted from his office. He wanted to deal strictly with me." Mason chuckled at the memory. "I told him no, that you were my assistant and in charge of running the office, which meant the two of you would have to work together. I asked him what the problem was and he said... " Mason broke into laughter, unable to continue.
Della swatted his arm. "What did he say?"
"He said he was unused to dealing with the female sex and you seemed unable or unwilling to separate your -" Mason choked back another laugh. "- your 'feminine wiles' from your 'workplace demeanor'. He was worried that the 'predatory nature' inherent to your sex would interfere with his 'ability to maintain the proper focus' on his job."
"Of all the -" Della started, but Mason interrupted her.
"He suggested that if the two of you were to continue to work together, that I instruct you wear more 'somber clothing' as well as educating the entire office staff about the importance of projecting a properly solemn attitude and its' value to the quietly efficient operation of a professional office."
"Somber clothing?" Della exclaimed, arms crossed over her chest. "The nerve of that little bookworm!"
Mason collapsed against the car, laughing until he had to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.
"I ought to paint my nails red then strangle him with my bare hands, I suppose," Della said sarcastically. "What does he expect me to wear? A nun's habit?" She gestured towards her shirtwaist dress. "The only way this outfit could be any more 'somber' is if I had on a veil!"
Still chuckling, Mason cut his eyes at her and ran his gaze appraisingly up and down her body. "Definite sex appeal," was his pronouncement.
Della threw up her hands in exasperation. "This dress? You can't possibly be serious! This dress looks like something a Sunday School teacher would wear to an all day prayer meeting."
Mason took a long drag from his cigarette. "If my Sunday School teachers had looked like you do in this dress, I would have grown up to be a minister instead of a lawyer."
"I think perhaps you might be biased, Counselor," Della replied.
"Think so?" he challenged. "Maybe I am, but you could wear a potato sack and still look like a million dollars, Della. And don't think that I'm the only man that notices." He'd missed laughing and sparring with her like this. They hadn't been this comfortable with each other in months. So many things had changed since that night in Mexico.
Della shrugged off the compliment and turned away from him slightly. Reaching out, he grasped her shoulder and gently prodded her into facing him. Perhaps her feelings for him hadn't changed. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. The spark was there, in her eyes, just like before.
Running footsteps echoed through the garage, headed from the street door towards them. Mason felt his secretary stiffen and pull back as she realized they were no longer alone. He reluctantly released his hold on her. They both turned to see a young woman, dressed for an office job, scurrying towards them, blond hair trailing down her neck where it had worked its way free from the pins that tried to hold it in place. She slowed her pace somewhat as she neared them, but she didn't seem to notice that anyone else was in the garage.
As she came closer, the lawyer took note of her flushed complexion and the nervousness in her expression. She glanced around furtively and gasped in surprise at the sight of the lawyer and his secretary.
"Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?" Mason asked as he took a step towards her.
"No, I, uh, I'm going to see someone here. Thank you, anyway," she said. Her voice was well-modulated, but there was a tinge of hysteria in her speech. She backed away and started to hurry towards the building entrance.
"It's almost six o'clock," Della called after her, noting the curiosity in Mason's gaze. The woman paused. "Most of the offices will be closed by now. Who did you wish to see?"
"Oh, I didn't think..." her voice trailed off and she checked her wristwatch as if to verify Della's words. "I've simply got to see him tonight." Her tone was somewhat desperate.
Della glanced at Mason. He nodded almost imperceptibly. Della moved closer to the woman. "Who are you looking for? Perhaps we can help you find them." She smiled warmly. The other woman glanced between Della and the tall, dark-eyed man behind her. She looked down at the paperwork she carried in her hand and seemed to come to a decision.
"I'm looking for Perry Mason. I'm in an awful jam and I know he can help me. I really need to speak to him. Do you know if there is any way to contact him after hours?" She looked pleadingly at Della.
Della smiled. "Yes, there is. In an emergency. Is this an emergency?"
"Oh, yes!" the woman exclaimed. "I'm probably going to be arrested before the night is over and I simply must talk to him before I go to jail. I must!" Her voice broke slightly and she gripped her purse and the paperwork tightly to her chest.
Della glanced back over her shoulder. Perry Mason stepped forward. "I'm Mason. Why don't we go upstairs to my office and you can tell me what's going on?"
"You? You're...? Oh, thank God!" The woman took a deep breath. Mason took hold of her elbow and turned her back towards the bank of elevators he and Della had exited previously. The ride up to Mason's office was quiet and by the time they reached their floor, the woman had her breathing under control and she stood a little straighter.
Once he'd unlocked the door to his private office and ushered the two women inside, Mason spoke. "Let's get down to it, Miss. Who are you and why are you so desperate to see a lawyer?"
"Not just any lawyer - you, Mr. Mason. It has to be you!" She took a deep breath. "My name is Millicent James. I work for Jason Cooper – in his mining speculation business."
Mason raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Della, who'd quietly ensconced herself at the corner of Mason's desk, paused the skimming motion of her pencil across the pages of her notebook and glanced at the lawyer with slightly widened eyes.
"I know of your history with Mr. Cooper, Mr. Mason. I know the details of the Mildred Roberts case," she said. "She was my aunt."
"Your aunt? Then how did you come to work for Cooper, given your background? I did everything in my power to send Cooper to jail for swindling your aunt on those fraudulent investments years ago, Miss James. I don't see him as the type that would be willing to forgive and forget and hire his victim's family to work in his office."
"He didn't. I made sure not to give any information that could connect me to my aunt. Evidently it worked and he hired me." She drew a breath and looked at the lawyer expectantly. Mason waited patiently, his granite-like features masking his thoughts. "I knew if Mr. Cooper was in any kind of business, it was bound to be crooked. I watched and I waited and whenever I had the chance, I snooped." She cleared her throat somewhat self-consciously before continuing. "This afternoon I found these." She pushed the papers across the desk towards Mason. He made no move to take them.
"And what are 'these'?" he asked.
"Proof of Jason Cooper's latest scheme. He's working some sort of stock swindle - something to do with a new mine. I think these documents will prove that he's running an illegal operation. They are from a second set of books he keeps in his private office. I managed to divert the cleaning lady when she came in and unlocked his office. I grabbed whatever I could and took off. I...I don't think I was followed."
Mason made no move to accept the paperwork, but sat back in his chair, long thin fingers steepled in front of his chin. Millicent James's desperate eyes looked from lawyer to secretary and back. Finally he spoke. "Why did you take it upon yourself to investigate this? Your aunt's case was settled years ago."
"That man is responsible for my aunt's death! She was never the same after he cheated her. You know how it was, Mr. Mason. It wasn't so much that he took her money, but he also took her faith in people. She trusted him implicitly, and couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be duped like that. I'll always believe that was a major reason her health declined so quickly. Her death is on his head!"
"Perhaps. But if you want to investigate Jason Cooper, then you need a private investigator, not an attorney, Miss James."
"Normally, yes. But Mr. Mason, my name is on some of these papers. Some of them are my genuine signature and some I'm sure are forgeries. I think I'm being set up to take the fall on this latest mining scheme. I had no idea until I started looking through these documents." Her voice took on a note of barely controlled hysteria. "I didn't know what to do. You have to help me!"
Mason seemed not to have heard the outburst. He continued to stare at the papers she'd laid on the desk. "You took these from his private office without authorization. They can't be used in a court of law." She opened her mouth to protest, but Mason cut her off. "However, we can gather what information is contained in them and use that as a means of directing our investigation."
Mason looked up at the woman. "No one knows you have these papers?"
She hesitated. "I...I'm not sure. I ran into Mr. Cooper in the parking lot when I left. He was going back up to his office. He saw that I was carrying some documents, but didn't ask me about them. However, if he happens to look through the books, he'll find that they're missing and I'm sure he'll put two and two together. If he does, he'll have me arrested." The pitch of her voice rose as her hysteria began to return. "That's why it was so important to see you tonight. I tried to make sure I wasn't followed. I entered this building through the parking garage because I wanted to see if anyone followed me in."
Mason nodded. "You've got to return these papers. Now. Tonight."
"But, Mr. Mason - !"
He held up a hand to silence her. "Return them, as soon as you've made photostatic copies. I have a law clerk here who is a genius with corporate law. I'll have him look them over first thing in the morning and find out what we can about the scheme." Mason shifted his attention to his secretary. "Della, is there somewhere we can take these documents to be copied after hours?"
Della stood and gathered her notebook. "Certainly. If you'll come with me, Miss James. I'll call ahead so they'll be waiting on you."
"Oh, thank you," Millicent James breathed an audible sigh of relief. "I'll make the copies and take these straight back to where I got them."
Mason nodded and stood up from the desk. "I'm coming with you. We'll make sure the documents are returned then get you out of there safely. That should be all we need to do for now." He looked towards Della who was on the phone in the outer office. When she hung up, he caught her eye. "I'm going with Miss James to copy and return the documents. Would you mind digging out the file on the Roberts case while I'm out? I shouldn't be long. I'll review that in the morning after meeting with Jackson."
Della nodded. Her eyes conveyed her concern and possibly disapproval, but she said nothing.
PDPDPDPDPD
"How will we get into the office?" Mason asked. Millicent James had just returned to his car after having the documents copied at an office supply store. She handed Mason the copies.
"We could ask the cleaning crew to let us in. They should still be in the building. Or, there is a fire escape. I don't think the window that opens onto the escape is locked. It's plenty big enough to climb through."
"We'll do that," Mason said decisively. "We don't want any witnesses."
The drive to Cooper's office was relatively short and completed in silence. Upon arrival, Mason parked halfway down the block and across the street. As he parked the car, Millicent looked towards the building's entrance. "What's he doing here?" she exclaimed.
"Who?"
"Paul Blanton. He's the mining supervisor; an old army buddy of Mr. Cooper. I think he was a sergeant in Mr. Cooper's squadron in the war and they kept in touch since then. Blanton runs the mining operations, supposedly. If he's skulking around the office after hours…" Her voice trailed off into uncertainty.
Blanton continued down the other side of the street to the corner where he caught a taxi waiting at the curb. Once he was out of sight, they walked down the street towards the office building and Millicent James showed Mason the alleyway. They gained access to the fire escape with little trouble. Within moments both were standing relatively unscathed in the darkened offices of Cooper Land and Mine Speculations, Inc.
Once inside, Mason gripped Millicent's arm, signaling her to silence. They stood motionless for a few moments until the lawyer was satisfied there was no one else in the office. "Alright," he whispered. "Can you do this in the dark or do we need to turn on lights?"
"There is enough light coming in through the windows. I can do it," was Millicent's reply. She crossed the room to open a door on the far side. Mason followed closely. "This is his private office. It's still unlocked," she told him.
They entered the office, which was bathed in a mixture of twilight and street lights which coated the scene in shades of murky gray. Millicent crossed to the filing cabinets and pulled open a drawer. She put several files into the drawer, then moved to the next cabinet. As she did, her elbow brushed the open drawer, causing it to roll back into the cabinet with a bang. "Watch it!" Mason hissed from behind her. He stuck his head out the door into the reception area, listening and watching.
He heard a soft click at the second drawer closed. "That does it," Millicent whispered. He turned back towards her in time to see her stumble and fall as she started towards him.
Mason cursed under his breath and went to help her up. As she gained her feet, he took a closer look at the area behind the desk where she had tripped. Suddenly his posture stiffened and he took a step back.
"What is it?" Millicent asked quietly.
Mason whirled on her. "What's going on? Is this some kind of a cheap frame up?"
"What? No! What are you talking about?" She sounded genuinely confused.
"Hand me that lamp!" he demanded. She picked up the desk lamp. He knelt and held it close to the floor before switching it on.
A high pitched keening started in the back of Millicent's throat. "Shut up!" Mason snarled. He ignored her for a brief moment while he examined the body of the man sprawled behind the desk. Then flipped off the light and grabbed hold of his client, pulling her back through the door, through the reception room and back to the fire escape.
"Who—?" she inquired.
"Out. Now. And be quiet about it," he said. They made their way down the fire escape and to the opening of the alley. A fence running along the back of the building left them with only one direction of exit. As they reached the opening, they slowed their progress and tried to appear unhurried as they headed for the car. Only a few steps down the sidewalk, Millicent suddenly gripped her attorney's arm painfully.
"It's a police car! And they're stopping right next to ours!" She began to turn back, as if to run.
Perry Mason spun her around and shoved her into the darkened doorway of a closed store. He pushed her into a corner, his body resting against hers and began to kiss her feverishly. Millicent James grabbed hold of his lapels to steady herself, allowing him to cover her body with his.
"Hey buddy! You can get a room down the street for just a few bits more!" The jeering voice dissolved into laughter as the heavy-footed steps of the patrolmen continued past them and down the sidewalk to the office building just vacated by the kissing couple.
Finally satisfied that they were again alone, Mason pulled away. "M-Mr. Mason!" his companion exclaimed.
"Sorry," he said. "I couldn't take a chance on him seeing us well enough to make an identification later." Millicent merely nodded and smoothed her rumpled clothing. "Let's get out of here," Mason said and they made their way to the car.
He stopped a few blocks away and made an anonymous call to the Homicide Division of the Los Angeles Metropolitan Police. Although police had already been called to the scene, the lawyer complied with the letter of the law and completed the technicality of reporting the body. He dropped the receiver into place even as the dispatcher was demanding his name and rejoined his client in the car.
PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD
Mason dropped his client at her apartment building with strict instructions to say nothing to anyone, and returned to his office. Inside he found his secretary seated, dwarfed by his big leather chair, as she read the late newspaper which was spread out across his desk. She started to move from the chair, but he waved her back.
"Keep your seat – I gotta make a call and I'm too keyed up to sit."
She raised an eyebrow in question, but resumed the seat and listened as he called the office of Paul Drake, Private Detective.
"You still have that police scanner, Paul?"
"Yeah. We keep it on pretty much all the time. Why?"
"Anything going on right now?"
"I haven't been paying attention, but nothing out of the ordinary that I've noticed."
"Fine. Get down to my office. I have a job for you." He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply. When he met Della's eyes he grinned sheepishly. Della stared at him for a moment, her expression resigned. The she shook her head.
"I knew she was going to be trouble," she sighed.
"You did not!" he challenged. "You even felt sorry for her!"
"I did. Until she tried to stick you with stolen business documents. Then I realized she's either congenitally stupid or just out to get you."
Mason tried to glower at her. "You could've warned me."
Della picked up the newspaper, flicking it into place as she sat back in the chair to read. "Why bother?" she said dryly from behind a wall of newsprint. "You would still have gone chasing off with her, just the same."
Just then Drake's code knock sounded on the hall door. "I've got it," Perry said.
"Hi, Be-," Paul Drake cut off the nickname when he saw that it was Perry, not his beautiful secretary, that opened the door. "What's up, folks? And make it fast. I was on my way out the door when you called."
Perry crossed the room and perched a hip on the corner of his desk. Paul folded himself sideways into one of the client chairs and Della lowered the paper, looking expectantly at her employer.
Mason quickly filled his audience in on the details of what had happened.
"Who was it?" Drake asked.
"Was it Cooper?" Della asked almost simultaneously.
"Lord, you are vindictive, woman!" Mason said jokingly, drawing an exasperated look from her. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it was George Simpson."
"Simpson?" Drake asked.
"Cooper's father-in-law and business partner. The only other person in the Roberts case that did any prison time." Perry went on to instruct the detective to make discreet inquiries into when, or if, Simpson had been released from prison as well as finding out anything he could about the body in Cooper's office.
"Damn, Perry," the detective drawled, uncurling himself from the chair. "Why not do like everybody else and just call the cops when you have a problem? Your taxes are paying for them. Why not put them to use?"
"Because I don't want to get arrested for one felony while in the midst of reporting another felony," the lawyer replied grimly.
After seeing the detective out, Della Street passed through the door from Mason's office into hers as she turned off the lights for the second time that evening. Mason shrugged into his coat and picked up his hat.
"This is dynamite, Chief," Della said as she crossed the room to retrieve her coat and purse.
"Don't I know it," he agreed, his expression thoughtful. "Cooper hates me like no one else." He met her troubled eyes and grinned. "I really thought he was going to take a punch at me the day I took his deposition for Mildred Robert's civil suit. If the bailiff hadn't stepped between us when he did, I would've come back to the office with a huge shiner!"
"Or worse," Della said seriously. "Since you've gotten mixed up in this," she said with a sigh, "please promise me you'll be careful. Really careful. Cooper evidently made it clear back then how he feels about you and I doubt he would have any compunction about killing you if he had the chance. I doubt that time has done anything to dull his appetite for revenge."
"Don't worry, Della. If something happened to me, Jackson could carry on the practice in my stead. The two of you would make a great team - fire and ice, hare and tortoise, beauty and -"
Della silenced him with a glare, but he could see the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.