Perry Mason arrived at his office the next morning earlier than usual. His secretary was already there. He'd barely had time to set his briefcase down before Della entered from her office. "Well? Have you heard anything?" she asked.
"Not a peep. Nothing from Paul yet?" he asked, reaching for the newspapers she'd left on the blotter.
"He called first thing and said he didn't have much to report other than what's in the newspaper. He said he'd come down once he'd had time to drink his coffee and chew on a few preemptory antacid tablets."
Mason chuckled and settled down to read the media's account of the murder of George Simpson.
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"...and, as such, your continued opposition to the terms of the original contract makes the point of ownership moot and will therefore negate the possibility of..."
Perry Mason's voice intoned his argument regarding a contract dispute to his secretary as he dictated a letter to the opposing party. It was nearing the lunch hour and Mason had spent the better part of the morning cooped up in the law-library, finding the citations to support his position in the suit. He'd not heard anything from his client and Paul Drake's report didn't offer much in the way of new information.
Mason finished the paragraph he was dictating and paused in his pacing. He appeared to be staring at the floor as he thought and Della waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts and continue. She was seated at the conference table and took advantage of the lull in dictation to study the skyline outside the office windows. Her attention was captured by the brightly colored bird who'd taken advantage of the balcony rail for a morning siesta. As she watched, the bird preened its feathers before settling back to sleep. Della rolled her shoulders and took a deep breath, letting her body relax for a moment before returning her attention to her notebook.
Perry Mason watched the simple scene with hungry eyes. Watching Della was like watching a delicate, dexterous cat. She moved with a feline elegance that was always sure to attract his attention. Even something as simple as rolling tension out of her shoulders seemed to him as if it was a practiced ballet move - fluid, graceful and meant to be savored. A flash of memory gripped him and he could almost feel those graceful limbs wrapped around him once again. Mason blinked as Della returned her attention to her steno book and he tried to remember what he'd intended to say next. He'd just about finished the argument; Della could easily compose the closing of the letter on her own. He quickly finished off the last of his dictation.
"That's it. Just close out the letter from there, Della."
"No problem," she said, glancing back through her notes. "You want this to go out in this afternoon's mail?" She stood and gathered up her notebook and pencils.
"If possible, but there's no real rush." Della nodded in response and walked towards her office. Mason's eyes followed her progress, catching the smile that she threw over her shoulder at him as the door closed behind her. The lawyer regarded the door for a beat, then reached for a law book, turned to the marked pages, and began to read. Within a few minutes he'd leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the corner of the desk as he continued to study the printed page.
Some time later there was a knock at the door and Della slipped inside. She leaned her hips back against the closed door and waited for Mason to look up. He finished the sentence he'd been reading and then met her gaze.
"It looks like this is it," she said. "Lt. Tragg is in the waiting room."
Mason closed the law book and tossed it to the side of his desk. "Let's not keep him waiting."
Della returned momentarily with the police lieutenant in tow. He shook the lawyer's outstretched hand and took the seat across from Mason's desk.
"Slumming, Tragg? Or just lonely?" Perry asked as he slumped comfortably into his leather desk chair.
"Lonely. I missed Della." He grinned at the secretary, seated at a table next to the balcony doors. She looked up from her notebook and smiled at him. Tragg turned his attention back to Mason. "Your client is asking for you."
"My client?"
"Millicent James. She's down at police headquarters right now."
"What in the world is she doing there? And if she needs an attorney, why didn't you let her call me?"
"I told her I was heading over to see you and would relay her request. At the moment she's being held incommunicado at the station. No one will try to question her further until you get there." Tragg leaned forward slightly in the chair. "As for the why – I don't have to tell you, I'm sure. She's being held on suspicion of first degree murder."
"What!"
Tragg settled back into the cushions, his smile sardonic. "Oh come now, counselor. It's not as if that's news. I know she came to see you last night."
"Yes, and of course she mentioned in passing that she'd made plans to murder someone. She just wanted to see me to make sure that I'd be available to defend her if she got caught." Mason's voice was perturbed.
"You've heard about George Simpson?" The lawyer nodded. "Well, I've got a witness who puts your client and an unidentified man at the scene of the crime, just about the time of the murder."
Mason dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "You know how unreliable that kind of circumstantial evidence is, Tragg. And it's not like you to come running over here to gloat. What is the real reason you've come?"
"I also have the statement of the patrol officers who responded to the initial call. They're red-blooded young men and on their way into the building, they noticed a couple step into a doorway and start in on a pretty heated lip-lock. Now, my men can't make a positive ID, but the general description of the woman fits your client." Tragg's level gaze locked onto Mason. "And the man could easily have been you."
"Or any number of other men, Tragg," Mason sighed. He shook his head. "I sincerely hope you pass this little gem of deductive reasoning along to the District Attorney. Even Hamilton Burger would admit that I'd never pull something like that with a client. The ethical ramifications of having an amorous relationship with an active client are much too serious. And besides," he kept his eyes locked on the detective, "it's not like I don't have better options."
Tragg's gaze never left the lawyer's. It was as if the two men were making a conscious effort not to let their eyes stray to anywhere else in the room. "I am well aware of that, Counselor. I've always thought you have some of the best options of anyone I know." His eyes twinkled.
"So you'd agree that I'd have to be pretty stupid to have been making out with a client out in the open on a city street?"
"Oh, I'd agree." Tragg got to his feet and placed his hat atop his head. "But that doesn't mean I don't still think it was you." He nodded at Della before letting himself out into the corridor.
Perry cleared his throat and turned back towards his secretary. "Della, you—." She interrupted him by handing him the hat she'd retrieved from Blackstone's brow.
"Headed to the jail?" she asked.
"Yes. I guess I'd better go see how bad the damage is." He couldn't quite meet her eyes.
"Mmm-hmm," she replied, opening the door to her office. "Call if you need help. I'll have a bail bondsman standing by," she purred. The door snapped closed behind her with just a tad more force than was absolutely necessary.
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Sometime later, the phone on Della Street's desk rang. When she answered, Mason's voice came on the line. "Have you had lunch yet?"
"Yes, about an hour ago. Why?"
"Oh." He sounded slightly crestfallen. "I got Miss James out on bail and I need to talk with her. But she hasn't had anything to eat all day. I thought you might want to join us for lunch."
"I can grab a notebook and meet you, if you're planning to question her while you're eating," Della offered.
"No, that's ok. We'll just grab a quick bite at a lunch counter and come back to the office and I'll talk to her there." He paused. "Della, about what Tragg said…I can explain. It was the only thing I could think of, and, well…"
Della's voice lowered slightly, as if she were making sure she wasn't overheard. "Listen, Perry. You don't owe me anything. I thought we'd both made that clear to each other. You don't owe me a thing, least of all an explanation." Her voice resumed its normal volume. "I'll see you when you get back to the office."
Perry Mason stood staring at the receiver for several moments after the line went dead.
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"I swear to you, Mr. Mason! I had no idea that body was there. I barely knew Mr. Simpson! Why would I want to murder him?" Millicent James pleaded with Perry Mason from her seat in the client's chair across from his desk. Della Street sat unobtrusively at the conference table behind the pair, taking notes.
"I'm sure I don't know. But I'm equally sure the DA will come up with a reason," Perry Mason replied evenly. Millicent James looked as if she were about to cry. The lawyer's scrutiny never wavered.
"You do believe me, don't you, Mr. Mason?" she asked tremulously.
"Of course I do. However, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't take into account that a high percentage of clients feel that they need to either withhold information or flat out lie to their lawyers. I don't know why people do it, but they do. It's taking a terrible chance with your life. You lawyer has to know everything if he's going to be any help to you."
"You do know everything, Mr. Mason. You know that I stole those papers. Jason Cooper evidently realized I didn't leave the office and he stayed around to keep an eye on me. And you were with me when I returned them. You know everything…," she hesitated a beat, "that happened then." Millicent James looked up at him from beneath thick lashes.
"Simpson knew Cooper was grooming you for bigger responsibilities?"
"Yes, I was there one day when he mentioned it to Mr. Simpson directly. Mr. Simpson had only been at the office a few times. He still hadn't really acclimated to being out of prison. He didn't do any work, just hung around and watched mostly. Sometimes he studied the files on various projects, making notes and such. Mr. Cooper told him I'd shown promise in the investment side of the business and he was giving me a chance to be more involved."
"Was this before or after you got suspicious about the mine scheme?"
"Before."
Mason nodded. He was quiet for a moment, evidently lost in thought. "Well, there's nothing more you can do for now, Miss James. I want you to go home and stay there. Don't talk with anyone, especially not newspaper reporters."
"You don't have to worry about me, Mr. Mason. I'll be silent as the grave." She gave him a little smile.
"Be careful," he warned. "Some of the papers may try to slip a sob sister columnist in to make friends with you and get the story. So be especially suspicious of anyone who tries to start up an acquaintance with you."
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
I'm going to find out what's really going on here." He turned to his secretary. "Make a note for Jackson, Della. Tell him I need him to research a couple of issues of mining and investment law. I'll meet him in the law library as soon as we're done here."
The secretary nodded and rose to complete the task.
Mason turned his attention back to his client. "I'm going to find out who's really behind this murder, Miss James. And I'm going to start by finding out about the investment fraud. That will give us a direction to go with this. Don't worry – if Jason Cooper is doing something illegal, I'll do my best to expose it to the proper authorities. And we'll find out the truth behind this murder."
He stood to signify the end of the interview. Once again Millicent James grasped his hands in hers. "Thank you Mr. Mason. You wouldn't believe how much better I feel, now that I've talked to you. You inspire confidence, you really do."
Della entered the office just in time to hear that statement. Mason judiciously avoided her eyes and maintained a grave expression as he shook Millicent's hand. "That's what I'm supposed to do, Miss James."
"Yes, of course. But I can't help but feel that you go above and beyond." Millicent smiled up at the lawyer as he withdrew his hand from hers. She winked at him, and turned to nod at Della Street before she exited the office.
Once they were alone, Mason sighed and leaned back in his desk chair. "I am not really sure our client has much of a defense. She was in the right place at the right time to commit this murder. And her name may be on some documents, providing proof of fraud. And, by extension, motive for murder."
"Do you think she did it?" Della asked.
Mason grinned at her. "You know better than to go asking pointed questions like that, Miss Street." He became more serious. "But, no. I don't believe she did it. And I'm going to have to find indisputable evidence of who the real murder is, or she's going to prison. Or worse." He slumped in the chair and drummed his fingers rhythmlessly on the blotter. "I guess I'd better get Jackson to work going over as much of Cooper's corporate record as we can. This is going to be a tough job."
Della's expression was one of comic innocence. "Oh, Mr. Mason," she exclaimed, her voice taking on a breathy reverence. "If anyone can do it, you can! Why, you inspire confidence just by sitting there, slouched down in your chair like that."
Mason made a face at her. She laughed.
"Well, I suppose I'll see what I can round up for Jackson to look at. Then I'll put Paul Drake to work," he said. "Are you free for dinner?"
She smiled at his hopeful tone. "Sorry. I'm meeting a friend at the tennis club. We've tried to book a court for two weeks and she would kill me if I cancelled on her again."
Mason nodded and looked at her, his gaze somewhat wistful. "This job wrecks havoc on your social life, doesn't it? Tell your friend I'm sorry about that."
Della's smile softened. "You haven't heard me complain have you? I enjoy tennis, but it's not half as fun as watching you solve a mystery."