Mason's convertible crunched gravel as he pulled it to a stop in front of the small office/shed that bore the sign Cooper Mining Company. He exited and held the door for Della who slid across the seat and hopped out on the driver's side. The door to the building opened and a burly man stood blinking in the afternoon sunlight.
"You must be Mason," he called and held out a hand as he walked towards them.
"I am. And this is my secretary, Miss Street." The man nodded at Della and shook hands with the attorney. "I'm Paul Blanton. I supervise operations out here. Cooper's office called and told me you were coming. Come inside and have a cup of coffee. We can talk in there - it's got an air conditioner." His toothy grin encompassed them both and the trio moved to the office.
Blanton's office was cramped and papers were strewn haphazardly across the desk. There was a couch along one wall. A pillow and the blanket wadded up on the end of the sofa gave the impression that someone was using it for a bed. After both Perry and Della declined Blanton's offer of coffee, he shuffled through the mess on the desk, looking for a map of the mine.
"Well, hell!" He glanced in Della's direction. "Sorry ma'am. I don't know where that durn fool map is. I had it just a while ago, planning to show it to you so you'd get an idea about the scope of the operation here." He flipped through another file. Mason stretched his legs out in front of him and eyed the man carefully. There was a nervousness about the man that immediately put the lawyer on edge. Della sat in the chair next to his and studied her surroundings.
The office had the look and smell of a bunkhouse, Della thought. She glanced at the desktop. Most of the documents appeared to be type-written reports and lines of figures. As her eyes focused, she noticed the corner of a hand-written note. At the top was the name Jason. She couldn't make out much of the writing, but thought she could see the words "Simpson" and "assay reports".
"I tell ya what," Blanton drawled after ineffectively shuffling the detritus on his desk and glancing at the wall clock. "Let's go ahead and take a quick tour through the upper part of the mine. I can show you what we're doing first hand and then when we're done with that, maybe I'll remember what I did with the rest of the paperwork."
"Fine," the lawyer said, getting to his feet. "Do you want to wait here, Della? I'm not sure those shoes would be particularly comfortable -" He was interrupted by Blanton.
"It'll be fine! You won't have to walk far and the ground is pretty level - for the mining carts, ya know. Come on with us, Miss Street. Besides, company regulations won't let me leave anyone other than employees in here alone." He grinned affably again and ushered the two of them out of the office, careful to close the door behind them. "It's not far, but it is a dusty walk - let's take the truck."
The three of them piled into the wide bench seat of Blanton's work truck and he drove them to the mine's entrance. Once they clambered out of the vehicle, the lawyer noticed Blanton looking back up the road, toward the office shack, his expression clouded. Mason followed his gaze, seeing nothing at first, then noticing a cloud of dust growing in the distance. A car, no doubt. When he turned back towards his companions, Blanton was already leading the way into the tunnel.
"Oh!" Della exclaimed as they entered the mine itself. "What a difference."
"You betcha," Blanton said. "Always a good twenty degrees cooler in here. Up top, any way." He threw a lever and electric lights came on overhead, casting a weak glow down a tunnel and illuminating a pair of rails that ran out into the darkness beyond the lights. "Now if you'll follow me - just step on the boards separating the rails and you won't have any problems." He demonstrated how they should follow him. "It's just a few yards down this tunnel and we'll come to the main operations room." He looked Mason in the eye, his voice conveying urgency. "We can talk there. It will be…safer."
The lawyer nodded. "Where are the miners?" Mason asked. "It appears everything is shut down."
"Waitin' on a permit," Blanton said. "Can't start our next phase until that comes through from the state mining commission. So, we're shut down at the moment, which is good, 'cause otherwise I couldn't bring you down here."
Mason nodded and kept his attention trained on Della, reaching for her elbow to steady her as she picked her way along the tunnel floor.
"Are you making it ok, Della?" Mason asked.
She smiled at him. "I'm fine."
Blanton motioned them forward, hurrying them along. "You look like you're game for a little adventure, Miss Street. Don't worry - the ops room is just around this bend. It will be worth a little trouble for you to get to see what's there."
"It certainly sounds interesting," Della said. "What are you going to show us?"
"You'll have to wait and see! Now listen, I'm going to run on up ahead and turn on the lights. You two give me just a second and then follow me. Alright?" Mason nodded and Blanton jogged ahead, then disappeared to the left.
Della turned to speak to Mason, but he motioned her to silence. "I bet this place really echoes," he said, somewhat louder than usual. "Sound probably travels well down these tunnels." Della nodded her understanding.
"I've never been inside a mine before," she said, keeping the conversation innocuous, knowing Blanton might be listening.
They reached the spot where Blanton had disappeared. It was an arch carved into the rock that opened into a short tunnel, about 10 feet long. At the end was an opening bathed in milky light. Mason stepped up next to Della and made his way gingerly down the tunnel, his hand at her elbow. They stepped through the door and both stopped short.
Blanton laughed as the two of them stared around the room, open-mouthed.
"I told ya it'd be worth it!" he exclaimed. "Take yer time and enjoy the scene!"
Della crossed the room to the opposite side where the gold veins running through the walls were the most apparent. All over the room, ore and precious metals glinted in the light. Mason followed her and watched as her gloved fingers touched the wall, following a huge vein of what appeared to be silver as it traced its path across the wall.
"Chief, this is...wow!" Her voice was awed.
"It certainly is amazing," the lawyer agreed. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Is this normal? Are mines usually this beautiful?"
"Not in my experience," Mason replied dryly. Something in his tone caught Della's attention and she looked at him, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Ore doesn't have this sort of polished quality in its natural state. Either this room has been prepared and the ore somewhat finished to impress visitors, or it's been impregnated into the walls to impress inexperienced investors. Which one is the case here, Blanton?" he asked coldly, turning back towards where the other man was standing.
Had been standing. Now he was nowhere to be seen.
"What the devil?" Mason exclaimed and glanced around the shadowy corners, then crossed to the opening of the room and back down the short entry tunnel. Once he reached the opening to the main tunnel, he could see Blanton standing near the entryway.
"Blanton! What's going on?" he demanded, making his way toward the other man.
"Quiet!" Blanton hissed and motioned him away. "Listen!"
The lawyer stopped next to the miner. "I heard a car. Someone is out there," Blanton said quietly.
"So let's go find out who it is," Mason said and started to step around the other man. He had one foot in the open tunnel when a shot rang out, whizzing past his ear. He jumped back into the short hall.
Blanton cursed and crouched down next to Mason. He pulled something from his pants pocket and fished a lighter out of his shirt pocket. He held the flame to the fuse on what Mason could see was a flare.
"You're on your own," Blanton said and threw the flare out towards the entrance. Immediately two shots echoed down the tunnel in response. "Good luck!" he exclaimed and took off running into the depths of the mine.
Mason chanced a glance down the tunnel towards the exit. He saw nothing.
"What's going on?" Della's voice startled him and he ducked back inside, pulling her down next to him as he crouched near the opening.
"Someone is out there with a gun! Blanton took off back into the mine." He chanced another quick glance towards the opening.
"What do we do?"
At that moment, the sound of an engine firing to life traveled down the tunnel towards them. Seconds later, the back of a vehicle could be seen traveling down the road, away from the mine. The tires spun and kicked up so much dirt that any identification of the car or its occupant was impossible. Perry and Della waited silently, listening for any sound of either a shooter remaining outside or of Blanton scurrying away inside. There was nothing.
"Feel like chancing it?" Mason asked his secretary.
"I don't feel like staying in here, that's for sure. This is like being a fish in a barrel."
Mason chuckled and took hold of her arm. Together they made their way towards the exit. A few steps down the tunnel a deep rumble rose up to meet them, seemingly from the very depths of the mine.
Della stopped and looked back over her shoulder. "What was that?"
A sound – a sharp crack – seemed to split the air around them. Mason grabbed her – "Run!" Della whirled and headed for the light, the lawyer on her heels. She ran on her toes, as best she could, in her high heeled shoes. The two of them sprinted down the tunnel towards the light. A cloud of dirt and smoke billowed towards them, overtaking them as they neared the opening. Perry lunged forward and pushed Della with both hands, propelling her forward and down. She hit the ground rolling and made it into the sunlight as he stumbled behind her.
Then the explosion.
Della was blown flat to the ground by the force of the blast, then covered with a thick layer of soot and dirt. As soon as she could get her bearings, she got to her feet and ran back towards the opening.
"Perry! Perry!" she screamed. Tears began pricking at her eyes, and she coughed as she tried to make her way through the billowing smoke and dirt and back into the tunnel. "Where are you?"
Finally she heard a noise and a moment later Mason stumbled out of the opening and into the sunlight. Della ran to him. "Thank God!" She held him tightly. Mason returned the embrace even as he worked to cough the smoke and dirt out of his lungs. "Are you alright?" she asked, releasing her hold a bit. Mason nodded and caught his breath. "I tripped over something as I pushed you out of the opening. Being flat on the ground meant the force of the explosion rolled right over me, I guess." He smiled down at his secretary, who was covered in sand and a fine grey dust from inside the mine. "I think you got blasted worse than I did."
"So it would appear." Della looked down at her clothing in disgust. She removed her suit jacket and began to shake the dirt from it.
Perry Mason surveyed the scene around them. They'd been deserted. He could see a cloud of dust disappearing down the road beyond the mining office, headed back towards town. The entrance to the mine was now completely blocked with debris. "Either the gun shots ricocheted and caused a collapse, or Blanton set off a charge to cave in the tunnel and keep the shooter from pursuing him," he said. He looked at Della. "Either way, he's not coming out anytime soon. Do you want to wait here while I go get the car?" She gestured towards Blanton's dusty pickup. He shook his head. "Blanton has the keys in his pocket."
Della nodded and seated herself on a nearby rock. "I'll be here when you get back."
PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD
Della Street watched his retreating figure until he was out of sight. Perry walked quickly, his step straight and sure, no sign of injury in his gait. The relief she felt at that knowledge amused her somewhat. For some reason he brought out the maternal in her.
Maternal? No, not maternal. That wasn't it at all. Perhaps a little in the beginning, but not for very long and certainly not since… that night.
Dinner was delivered by the bellboy. The lawyer and his secretary were safe from subpoena across the Mexican border, but Mason still felt it better to stay "under cover" – the phrase he'd laughingly used when he explained they were registered as husband and wife – in a single room.
He told her not to worry; he'd be sleeping on the floor.
They had drinks with dinner and polished off a bottle of tequila while dancing under the stars on their balcony. Each was a little tipsy when the dancing slowed and Perry pulled her more closely against his body.
As it turned out, he lied. He didn't sleep on the floor.
The memory sent a shudder through Della's body. She shook her head, trying to break free from the images flooding her mind – the feel of his hands, the way he kissed her over and over, all over.
It had been a mistake, she told herself. They were drunk, and things got out of control. It didn't mean anything. They were past it, and things were ok between them now. And she'd sworn off the tequila.
Della had to admit, however, she'd not been nearly as high as she'd let on. She knew what was happening, what they were doing. The alcohol was just a convenient excuse.
Looking back, she remembered…and wondered. Perry might have been a bit toasted to start with, but he didn't make love like a drunken man. Not at all. Perhaps…?
The water trickled out of the shower-head. The pipes made a lot of noise, but they delivered precious little liquid. She'd spent several minutes trying to get the shampoo out of her hair.
Even without much sleep the night before, Della was unable to rest and awoke early the next morning. She'd watched Perry with more than a little jealousy as he slept soundly next to her. Finally she slid out from under the sheets and headed for the bathroom and a hot shower.
Still covered in soap and trying to sluice it off her skin with little help from the shower itself, she heard a knock at the door. A smile broke over her features, but the sound of his voice wiped it away just as quickly.
"Della?" he called, tentatively. "Paul just called. They found Sims. I'm leaving – I have to get to Yuma ahead of the police to meet with him. Will you be ok? I'm sending Paul to pick you up and take you back to Los Angeles this afternoon. Once I get Sims story, Tragg's subpoena will be worthless."
She leaned back on the tiles of the shower wall. 'Paul? He was leaving and sending Paul?' Aloud, she said, "Yes, go. I'll see you at the office later."
"Alright," he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard through the bathroom door and over the sounds of the cranky water pipes. "I, uh, last night, was – we…"
She couldn't stand it. It was one thing to know he regretted what happened. It was another to hear him say it. "Go, Perry. You don't have much time. Don't let Sims get away."
"Alright. I'll call you as soon as I can." Was that relief she heard in his voice? She couldn't be sure.
With that he was gone.
Della sighed and watched the toe of her shoe drawing patterns in the sand. That was it. They'd never spoken of that night or what happened between them. It was another two days before Mason made it back to Los Angeles. As soon as they dealt with the Sims case, another took its place and life eventually returned to normal.
Normal? Not entirely. She had been different. She had to keep her distance. She couldn't allow the old camaraderie to take over entirely. It was too painful. She knew she had to be on guard with him if she didn't want to drive him away.
It hurt too much to be too close to him. But the thought of losing that closeness hurt even more.
PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD
Eventually Perry returned with the car, and took her back to the mine's office. There they waited for the local sheriff to arrive and take their statements. It was almost sunset when they were given leave to return to Los Angeles. Local authorities were beginning a search for Paul Blanton, with little hope of finding him. The collapse had done a very effective job of sealing off the Cooper mine.
Mason's heavy car made quiet work of the miles of blacktop between the desert and the city. Both of the car's occupants had been silent for some time, each lost in their own private thoughts. Finally, seeing a wide spot on the shoulder, Perry Mason pulled over, angling the car to the west where the sun's final dip below the horizon left behind a brilliantly painted sky.
Della looked at him questioningly as he wrenched his door open and walked away from the car. He stood at the edge of the road, his back to her, eyes fixed on the horizon. The breeze stirred his hair. Hands stuffed in his pockets and feet planted solidly, he watched the skyline. Della watched him – wide shoulders, slim waist, dark hair beginning to melt into the darkness that followed the sunset.
Silently she opened her door and stepped out of the car. He didn't turn, but wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she came to stand next to him. Neither spoke for a long moment.
Della finally broke the silence. "What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.
Mason tightened his grip on her briefly. "I'm thinking about us - what a strange pair we are." He smiled down at her, his eyes caressing her features, rather than settling into her gaze.
"What do you mean - strange?"
He didn't answer at first; instead he looked across the landscape and seemed focused on the horizon, his thoughts miles away. After a moment he turned back to Della. "You and I...we share so much, and yet so little." He reached up and caressed her face. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
She met his thoughtful gaze with quizzical eyes.
"I should have swept you off your feet a long time ago," he told her, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. "Why did I let this…this distance grow between us?"
Della smiled, almost shyly. She glanced away briefly, then look up at him again. "It's not like we're having a major love affair or anything," she said. "I guess we don't feel the need to push each other into some kind of formal relationship. We just..." her voice trailed off as she searched for words.
"We just keep things simmering between us - no commitment, no obligation." His words sounded frustrated. Della started to protest, but he cut her off. "We almost never let things get out of control - except for the time we were holed up in that hotel in Mexico, hiding out from Tragg." Mason sighed. "My God, I loved making love to you. Yet, when we came back, and the case was over, things went right back to the way they'd always been. Why? What are we hiding from?"
Della looked at him incredulously. "We've just nearly been killed. We barely escaped. And this is what you're thinking about? Sex?"
"Love," Mason countered. "I love you, do you know that? I could've lost you this afternoon, Della. Ever since then all I could think about is the fact that I am completely in love with you, yet I've never told you. I fight so hard to keep my feelings buried and out of the way. And for what?" He shook his head ruefully. "I'm not wasting any more time worrying about propriety or whatever it is that is standing between us." He took her face in his hands. "I love you, Della. Stay with me tonight?" His gaze pierced her, his eyes searching hers for an answer.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," she said softly. She dropped her eyes and color rose in her cheeks. "I know we should have talked about what happened in Mexico, but I just didn't know how. I didn't want things to change between us." Their eyes met again. "Being with you was wonderful, exciting. But then you-," she hesitated a beat before continuing. "As good as it was, I didn't - I don't - know how things would change if we were lovers." She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. His arms held her tightly.
They stood there, ignoring the sunset, for a long moment. At last she took a deep breath and he could feel the tremor that ran through her. "I was so scared, Perry. When that explosion knocked me down, I saw you engulfed in the smoke and I thought...you..." her voice cracked with emotion.
He didn't speak, but held her tighter, his face buried in her hair. Then he abruptly pushed her off of him and turned away.
"Perry? What -?"
Mason sneezed violently. Twice.
He grinned apologetically from behind his handkerchief. "Sorry. Dust in your hair..." He sneezed a third time.
Della chuckled and ran her hands through her hair. "I know. I feel gritty all over. I really need to go home and take a shower."
"No." He looked down into her face. "Please stay with me, Della. Good Lord, you're worse than I am!" He gripped her shoulders and held her firmly in place. "I love you, Della. We're both adults. You're coming home with me. Use my damn shower, woman. I've got a robe you can wear. If you must wear anything, that is. Just stay. Please."
Della bit her lip and glanced towards the car.
"Don't run away from me," he said softly.
Della closed her eyes for a moment, evidently debating with herself. Eventually she took a deep breath and raised her hands in surrender. "I give up. Take me home with you."
PDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPDPD
Perry put through a call to Paul Drake while Della was in the shower. The police hadn't found Blanton, and there was no evidence as to the identity of the shooter. He also reported that Millicent James was safely ensconced in her apartment, apparently for the night. "There's not anything more to be done tonight, Perry. Take Della out to dinner and then go home and get some sleep," the detective suggested. "Or better yet, go home with Della and don't get any sleep!" Drake laughed as he hung up the phone.
Mason grinned and dropped the receiver into its cradle. The shower stopped running. He went into the kitchen and stuck his head into the refrigerator. No champagne and strawberries were to be had, but there was a more than passable bottle of wine chilling inside and a package of sliced French cheese left over from his last trip to the market. That would have to do. He opened the bottle, took a couple of glasses out of the cabinet and tried arranging the cheese on a small plate. Satisfied with his efforts, he put everything on a tray and carried it into the living room.
The bedroom door opened as he entered the room. Della entered, running her hands through her still damp curls. The belt of his heavy terry cloth robe was cinched tightly at her waist.
"Hungry?" he asked. Before she could answer, he said, "I hope not. I really don't have much food here. How do you feel about cheese?"
"I'm generally in favor of it," was her dry reply as she reached for a glass. He filled it with a flourish that earned him a smile. He returned the bottle to the tray.
"Did you leave me any hot water?" he asked.
"Some."
"Then eat something. I'll go get cleaned up."
She nodded and watched him leave the room. Once the door closed behind him, she took a piece of cheese and wandered around the apartment. Perry's taste in art and décor were decidedly more modern than her own. After studying the paintings in the living room for several minutes, she moved into the bedroom. A series of framed landscape sketches caught her attention and she didn't notice that the shower had been shut off. When the bathroom door opened, she turned with a start.
Perry Mason entered the room in a cloud of scented steam. He wore nothing but a towel, knotted loosely at the waist. Della's eyes traveled over the wide expanse of his chest. She tried to control the flush that she felt rising from her neck up to her cheeks. Raising her wine glass, she drank deeply as a means of covering her sudden speechlessness.
Mason's surprise at finding her in the bedroom quickly melted into an impish grin. "You've got my robe," he said. "Wanna trade?" he offered, hand on the knot of the towel.
Della shook her head and set her wineglass on the bedside table. She turned back towards him, still keeping her eyes diverted. "I, um…," she faltered. "You look…cold."
He closed the distance between them in swift steps. Strong arms circled her waist and he pulled her to his chest. "So why don't you help me warm up?" Fingers splayed across the planes of his chest, she kept a slight space between their bodies. Sensing the hesitation, he loosened his hold. "Are you ok, Della?"
She nodded, took a deep breath, and looked up at him. "I'm just a little overwhelmed, I guess." She paused and he waited patiently for her to continue. "I mean, this is… There's no going back, is there?"
Gravely, Perry shook his head. Then he released her, took hold of her hand and drew her over to sit on the edge of the bed. As he settled himself next to her, her eyes locked involuntarily on his thigh muscle which flexed in the space where the two ends of the towel fell apart.
Resting his hand gently on her shoulder, he twisted slightly towards her, trying to look into her eyes. The towel parted further and she could see the strong line of his outer thigh as it curved up to meet his hip.
His voice was gentle, but firm. "Della, if you're…"
She reached for him.
"…not sure about this,"
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down to her.
"…we don't have to—"
He never finished the sentence.