"Jason Cooper is on the line," Della's well modulated voice informed him when Perry Mason lifted the receiver of his desk phone to his ear.
"Put him through," he replied, a hint of grim determination in his voice.
A click signaled that the connection had been made. "Mason?" Jason Cooper's gravelly voice sounded in his ear.
"What do you want, Cooper?"
"I was just visited by a process server who tells me he's in your employ. What in the world do you hope to accomplish with this asinine lawsuit? I do your client a favor by trying to teach her the investment business and now this? It's not enough that she killed my father-in-law? Now you're trying to sue me over her business activities?"
"You tried to drag my client into one of your illegal schemes. Then someone framed her for murder. Millicent James is not going to be a patsy for you or anyone else."
"That is an unfounded accusation, Mason. Keep it up and I'll hire a process server of my own!"
"Is there a point to this call, Cooper? If so, get there in a hurry."
"Look, you've claimed my mining speculation is fraudulent. I dare you to come out and inspect my operations. You haven't got a leg to stand on. I'm giving you free reign. You name the time and I'll have someone out there to show you whatever you want to see. This is no scheme – it's a solid investment."
The lawyer hesitated for a moment. The mine would be inspected by experts as a part of the lawsuit, but he couldn't deny that the opportunity to have a legitimate reason to talk to Paul Blanton was tempting. "Tomorrow afternoon."
"Fine. Paul Blanton, my mine supervisor will meet you there. Say two o'clock?"
"I'll be there."
"Expect a messenger with directions to the mine this afternoon, then. This is legit – you'll see, Mason." The connection was severed with force as Cooper slammed down the phone.
Mason winced and gingerly replaced his own instrument. He looked up to see Della leaned against the doorframe. She raised a quizzical eyebrow. He grinned at her. "Process server is on the ball. Feel like taking a drive out to the desert tomorrow, kid?"
"Just the very thing I'd been dreaming of," she drawled. She glanced back over her shoulder towards the outer office. "Gertie has closed the front office and left for the day. I think Jackson is gone, too. Are you ready to close up shop?"
Mason stood and stretched. "Yes, I'm done for now. I'll stop and check in with Paul on my way out of the building. I don't imagine he's got anything new, or he would've already called." As he reached for his briefcase, he looked over at his secretary. "I don't feel like going home to wait on developments. How about a good steak dinner?"
"How good?"
"Dinner with all the trimmings, a bottle of good red wine, and enough dancing to make you feel like you've worked off all the calories?" He kept his voice light and casual. Maybe she wouldn't notice that he was holding his breath in anticipation.
"Throw in dessert and you've made a sale."
"Done!" And he drew breath once more.
PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD
The handsome couple drew attention when they twirled around the dance floor. Until now, their presence in the dinner club had attracted little notice, thanks in part to the strategic table choice of the maitre'd. He knew his customers well and knew that one of the best ways to keep them coming back was to make sure that their privacy was respected. In this club there were no glossy autographed portraits of famous patrons gracing the walls.
That was all well and good until Perry Mason and Della Street took to the dance floor. They moved with a simple elegant gracefulness born of long practice and perfect compatibility. Their performance, unintentional as it was, drew stares and quiet comment from a number of the other diners.
Conversation was at a minimum between the two dancers. Their communication was accomplished through touch and gaze. They appeared to need nothing else.
The music changed and the dance slowed somewhat. Mason led Della around the outside of the floor. Della hummed the words softly, her head resting on Perry's shoulder. Just as they reached an edge, necessitating a turn, Perry missed a step. Della glanced up as his arms tensed around her.
"Perry? What's wrong?" she asked, still keeping her voice quiet.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, and relaxed his arms once more, then began to move them back in the direction of their table. Della followed his lead, her face betraying concerned curiosity.
As soon as they were seated, Della leaned in towards him. "What in the world is wrong, Chief? You look like you could spit nails."
Mason smiled at her. "It just caught me off guard. It's too much of a coincidence…" His voice trailed off and his expression became thoughtful.
"What are you talking about?" Della's voice carried a twinge of exasperation.
"Jason Cooper. He was here – watching us."
"Cooper is here?" she began to glance around the room at the other tables, but the dim lighting made any kind of identification impossible. "You filed a lawsuit against him today and he's spending his evening in the same nightclub we chose? You're right – that does seem like too much of a coincidence."
Mason nodded thoughtfully. "There was a woman with him. I suppose it was his wife."
"Bottle blonde with rather harsh posture?" Della asked.
"That's her. Didn't she used to be a brunette?" Della shrugged and he continued, "He seemed to be pointing us out to her." He drained the dregs in the coffee cup sitting at his place. "Well, do we refuse to let it ruin our evening and get back on the dance floor?"
"Or do we go with the 'better part of valor' and head back to the car?" she countered.
Mason grinned. "It's up to you."
"Well…" Della sighed. "As much as I hate to be run out of here," she smiled towards the orchestra, "we might as well go. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and I've got to get to the office early to get some things done. I could use a good night's sleep."
The smile on Mason's face didn't quite erase the shadows in his eyes. It was subtle, but she'd done it again. Della had, in recent months, become an expert at avoiding being alone with him. This dinner date was one the first they'd had in quite some time. And although she seemed perfectly amenable to dining and dancing with him in public, she evidently wouldn't be inviting him up to her apartment later on.
Stifling a sigh, he got to his feet and offered her his arm. "Your chariot awaits, milady."
"Home, James," she replied with a grin.
Mason caught sight of his adversary once more as he waited on the valet and Della made a quick call to the answering service to check messages. Jason Cooper was standing at the bar, in the shadows. Their eyes locked, briefly, and Cooper raised his glass in a mocking salute to the attorney. He didn't notice Susan Cooper approaching him from the side until she was almost at his elbow.
"Perry Mason," she almost spat the words at him.
"Mrs. Cooper, I presume." His voice was carefully neutral.
Her pale blue eyes peered into his. There was something in her stare that was almost animal, something barely controlled. "You are a thief and a murderer. And I don't intend to let you get away with it."
Mason raised an eyebrow, but refused to take the bait.
"My father is dead. You had him locked away in a cage. We'd barely had any time together after his release before he was struck down and killed. I couldn't even be there to hold his hand, or to tell him goodbye before he died. How dare you, Perry Mason? Not only that, but now you're suing us! How are we supposed to live? Why do you have this vendetta against us? What have we ever done to you? Why did you want my father dead?"
"I'm sorry for your loss, – "
"Spare me your insipid sympathies!" She stepped closer and her voice dropped to a menacing hiss. "I don't know how you managed to get your people into our company the way you did, but rest assured, the truth will come to light. You will pay for this. Justice will be done. I promise you that."
"Perry?" Della returned to his side, resting her hand on his arm, her eyes concerned. The valet stepped forward at the same moment to hand Mason the car key. Susan Cooper used the momentary distraction to slip away, lost in the crowd.
Once he'd taken the key, Mason glanced back towards the bar once more. Cooper was gone.
PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD PD
While driving Della home, Perry replayed the confrontation with Susan Cooper in his mind. There was something he felt he'd missed in what she said. The idea that he would want to kill George Simpson was ludicrous, but she evidently believed it. Where did she get the idea?
As he replayed her words once more in his mind, something clicked. 'People'. She's said he got his people into the company. Not just Millicent James, his client, but someone else as well.
Perry drove with one hand on the wheel, the other hand resting on the door. He reached up and rubbed his chin as he tried to puzzle out who Susan Cooper was referring to and why she'd think he'd have motive for killing her father. Rubbing his hand along his jaw and over his chin once more, the stubble pricked his skin. 'One of these days,' he thought, 'I'm going to give up and just grow a damn beard.'
Eventually, Perry stopped the car in front of Della's building. The drive had been virtually silent, both of them lost in thought. Della got out of the car and he followed her to the door. Before she had a chance to say anything, he spoke. "I hope you don't think me rude, but I'm going to leave you to find your way upstairs on your own. You were right – we have to start early in the morning and I could use some extra sleep."
Was it his imagination, or did her shoulders relax perceptibly when he said he wasn't coming up?
Della turned to him, her smile genuine and warm. "I had a wonderful evening, Perry, despite…everything. Thank you."
"All your doing, Miss Street. As usual." He looked into her eyes; finding warmth, affection and some definite barriers. He reached up and caressed her face. His thumb brushed across her cheek and his fingers curled around the back of her neck. There was trepidation in her expression as he leaned in close, but she made no move to stop him.
As his lips touched hers he could feel it – the bolt of energy that passed between them. She felt it too. He could feel her tense slightly at just that moment. The kiss sparked a memory – it flashed across his mind, bright and hot. Normally he would try to repress it, but for now, for just this moment, he let it consume him.
It was the memory of Della, her body, skin to skin with his own. It was as if he could feel her legs tangled with his once more, feel her nails leaving tracks on the skin of his back as their fevered bodies connected and became one.
Moving his arms down around her torso, Perry drew her closer to him as he gave the memory free reign. Then, in a heartbeat, she was pulling away from him – putting up that wall again. But he saw it – there in her eyes as she pulled away. She wanted him too. Just like he wanted her. Then why-?
"It's late, Perry."
He blinked, barely registering her words.
"I should go. Y-you should go." Her voice quavered ever so slightly. He knew she didn't want him to go – not really. But he would.
When they came together again – and they would, he was certain – he wanted her to have no doubts, no reservations.
Next time would be forever.