Perry waited for what seemed like a very long time at the door to Della's apartment. The longer he waited without an answer, the more his spirits deflated. According to his watch, he was punctual as ever, and he'd never known Della to be late. He knocked a forth time. The key to her apartment rested in his pants pocket - for emergencies - and he considered using it. On any other occasion he would have opened the door, walked in and made himself comfortable while he waited for her. Not this time. Not when he was as unsure about her feelings as he was now.
Even when dealing with the police or shady witnesses, Perry never experienced the feelings of hesitancy or insecurity that made his stomach churn as he waited outside Della's apartment. The thought that he'd made her angry, or, perhaps worse, disappointed in him, robbed the lawyer of his usual dauntless self-assurance. How could she so effortlessly achieve what countless prosecutors tried to do to him on a daily basis? And what if she'd changed her mind about dinner and came home later to find him sitting in her apartment, uninvited?
He pulled out his key case and regarded it thoughtfully. Then he made a decision.
The struggling figures on the sofa froze at the sound of the knock. Della recovered first and drew in a breath, intent on making any noise she could. Livesey came to life and once more gripped her around the neck. His eyes blazed with anger and fingers dug into her flesh, cutting off the air yet again.
Della pushed against Livesey as hard as she could. If she could make him fall off the couch, or hit the edge of the coffee table with his leg, anything - any commotion - would alert the visitor to the presence of someone inside. She prayed that Perry was the person tapping on her door. If he heard a sound, surely he would open the door and investigate.
Despite her efforts, Livesey planted his feet and refused to be moved. Hands tightened around her neck and by the time the second knock sounded, Della's strength waned and by the third knock she'd all but lost consciousness. She didn't even hear the fourth knock.
Perry exited Della's building and walked towards his car, planning to wait inside it for her to return. The small diner across the street caught his eye. He knew from experience that they served an excellent cup of coffee. Minutes later he sat in a booth with a view of the apartment building.
On a Friday evening a few months earlier, Perry and Della discussed their plans for the weekend as they closed up the office, he in hopes that there would be an opening to suggest they spend some time together. This diner, Della told him, made the world's best pancakes and her favorite weekend ritual involved eating breakfast and doing the newspaper crossword here on Saturday mornings.
Mason scoffed that there was no way the diner food could beat his homemade fare. She had laughingly suggested that he meet her there that Saturday and taste for himself. He agreed, adding that she could come to his place on Sunday morning and he would cook his version for her so she could judge which was truly better.
That breakfast date marked the first time they'd ever met, outside the office, for purely social reasons. They'd dined and danced together after work on occasions too numerous to count. But always as an afterthought to their professional activities. This was different - this was just for fun.
A smile brightened Perry's features as he remembered seeing her without high heels for the first time that morning. It surprised him how much shorter she seemed. The height difference exacerbated his feelings of protectiveness towards her, something he knew instinctively would irritate her, so he didn't mention it.
They lingered for hours that seemed like minutes over breakfast and coffee. Before leaving, he'd secured an agreement from her to come to his apartment the next day for round two of the pancake wars. Unfortunately, a case interfered and by the time Sunday morning rolled around, he was out chasing witnesses rather than home browning flapjacks.
Even though they missed breakfast together that day, she'd been to his apartment several times since then. She had a key to his, just like he did for hers. Unfortunately her visits always related to work - either they used his dining room table to go over paperwork and research strategy with Paul Drake or he'd sent her there alone to retrieve documents or to pack a bag with items he would need while out on a case. He'd never cooked a meal for her. She'd never come over just to drink his wine or listen to music, or to watch the flames dance in the fireplace. Employer and employee both seemed to hesitant to pursue the purely social aspects of their relationship. As long as the job provided a backdrop to their socializing, they were safer, somehow.
Perry was getting damn tired of a safer relationship.
Mason settled in to watch the comings and goings through the apartment doors. Lights began to flicker on in the windows of the apartment building. Counting up three floors and across four balconies, Mason found Della's apartment. Light filtered through the drapes of her living room window. It struck him as odd. 'Maybe she leaves a light burning all the time,' he reasoned. Certainly that was possible, given the frequency of unexpected late nights at the office. But somehow it didn't fit with his picture of Della - strong and independent. She didn't seem like the nightlight type.
Livesey waited as long as he dared before releasing his hold on his captive's throat. Adrenalin surged through his muscles and his heart raced. He had no compunction about killing the woman, but he wanted to finish what he'd started while she still lived. Color slowly began returning to her pale cheeks as he looked down at her face.
While Della was still unconscious, he crossed the room to the door of the apartment and checked the peephole. The hallway was deserted. Livesey released the breath he'd been holding and returned his attention to his prisoner.
Moments later her eyes flickered open. He watched the hope in them die as she focused on the face of her attacker. Then she kicked him.
___________________________________________________________
"Cuppa coffee, hon?" the waitress asked, holding the coffee pot over Mason's empty cup.
"Yes, thank you. Just coffee," he replied, shifting his gaze briefly to the interior of the diner. Once she filled the cup, he returned his attention to the building outside the window. The waitress lingered at the edge of the booth for a moment, perhaps hoping for a lengthier conversation with the handsome, dark-eyed man. She wondered what had him so preoccupied. The tight-fitting uniform, which fell open so nicely when she leaned over a table, usually made initiating conversation with eligible male customers an easy thing. Not so with this one. She waited a moment longer, then moved on to the next booth.
The program playing on the diner's radio changed from music to news. Mason all but ignored it until the announcer mentioned a name he recognized.
Livesey crumpled.
He'd been standing over Della, looking down at her, distracted by her eyes and watching her register that no savior had come, despite the knocking on the door. While he studied her face, she brought her legs up and around and smashed into the side of his knee as hard as she could.
Unfortunately for Della, when Livesy fell, he landed right on top of her, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Livesey grappled with her briefly, then managed to hold her down with one hand and backhanded her across the cheek with the other. Briefly stunned, Della stopped fighting. Livesey sucked in air, breathing heavily; more from anger than exertion. Moments later Della twisted against the weight of his body and tried again to break free of him.
It was no use.
____________________________________________________________
"...Frank Livesley, disappeared following a court hearing today in superior court. Under intensive questioning from defense attorney, Perry Mason, Mr. Livesey admitted to involvement in the murder. According to police sources, once the hearing adjourned, Livesey managed to slip out of the courtroom before the Court ordered him detained. Police have spread a dragnet across the city in hopes of capturing the fugitive before he can leave the county."
Perry listened intently, but the broadcast provided no additional information. He'd had no idea that Livesey had escaped. Taking another sip from his coffee cup, his eyes turned once more towards the door of the apartment building. Once the court hearing ended, Mason had been in a hurry to talk to Della and secure her promise for dinner tonight before he was completely mobbed by reporters. She agreed to the date his suggestion that he pick her up at her apartment at seven o'clock. The two of them left the courtroom together, but Mason stopped in the hallway to talk to the press. Livesey must have made good his escape at about the same time. Mason left the courthouse as quickly as he could after making a short statement to the reporters and checked in with the office briefly before going home, himself.
Now, as he replayed over the events of the afternoon in his mind, he leaned back in the booth and let his gaze drift to the side of the apartment building. A corner of the parking lot was visible from where he sat. As he stared, his eyes focused on a fender in the corner parking space. His eyebrows raised in surprise.