The older officer recognized the lawyer. "We're on it, Mr. Mason." He turned to his partner, who was holstering his weapon. "Get the cuffs on him, Jake."
"Where is that ambulance?" Mason demanded.
"Should be right behind us."
Mason nodded grimly and turned back to Della, who was now on her feet, alternately rubbing her chaffed wrists. When he reached her side, he put his arm around her shoulders, only to discover that she was shaking all over. His arms offered comfort, but she seemed almost repulsed by the touch. As the police attended to their captive, Mason gently guided Della to an arm chair. "Just sit down for a minute, Della. I'm going to get you a drink," he told her softly.
She took the glass he offered moments later and swallowed the scotch. It burned her already raw throat and she began to cough. Mason knelt next to the chair and rubbed her back. "Where's the ambulance, damn it?!" he barked over his shoulder. Just then two paramedics appeared in the doorway, carrying a stretcher and their medical kits. "Over here!" Mason ordered and moved back to give them room to examine Della.
One of the men stopped to administer first aid to the prisoner and the other supplanted Mason at Della's side. The police officers pulled Mason's attention away with a request for information. Reluctantly, Mason followed the officer out into the hallway to answer questions. Explaining the situation as quickly as possible, he glossed over his reasons for suspecting something was wrong in Della's apartment, prior to her scream. He didn't completely understand that himself. The officers had more questions, but Perry Mason was done giving answers. He left the investigator in the hallway and returned to Della's side.
Della was still seated in the chair, but she now held a cold compress to the bruise on her cheek. The paramedic stood behind her, examining the bump on the back of her head. He glanced briefly at the approaching lawyer, then told his patient, "You'll have to stay in the hospital overnight for observation, but you can probably be released sometime tomorrow."
Della shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm not going to the hospital."
"They need to make sure you're alright, Del," Perry said quietly. "It's just for one night."
Della stood abruptly and thrust the cold compress back into the paramedic's hands. Only Mason noticed the slight unsteadiness in her movements. "I'm not going to be poked and prodded any more tonight," she declared. "I'll go see my own doctor tomorrow if I have to, but I'm not going to the hospital."
The medic opened his mouth and began to protest, but Della ignored him completely. She glared at Mason, her expression betraying her stubbornness as she side-stepped the paramedic and headed for her bedroom. Mason sighed. He knew that look and knew that there was no arguing with her once she'd made up her mind like this. The medic tried to follow, still entreating Della to come down to the ambulance with him, but Mason caught hold of the man's arm. "Forget it," he told him. "She's not going and there's nothing you and I can do about it, unless you're prepared to manhandle her out of here."
"She's had a concussion. She needs close observation for at least the next twelve hours in case there are complications."
"I'll make sure she's not left alone. What do I need to watch out for?" Mason asked. The paramedic gave him a crash course in the care of concussive injury and within a short time the apartment emptied out. Livesey had not regained consciousness before they hauled him away on a stretcher. The patrolmen finished their initial investigation. The older officer had returned to the apartment after leaving his partner to accompany the ambulance to the hospital. He motioned for Mason to join him in the hallway while the building maintenance supervisor surveyed the damaged doorway.
"I thought you'd want to know, Mr. Mason, that you just collared the Palmdale Rapist! Just got the news over the radio. Officers searched Livesey's house when they tried to serve the arrest warrant, and they found evidence showing that's he's the rapist we've been trying to catch for the past year!" the officer said, excitement quickening his voice.
"Good God," Mason breathed. He glanced back into the apartment, concern etched on his features.
"Yeah, thank God you got here when you did, Mr. Mason," the officer said, clapping the lawyer enthusiastically on her shoulder. The lawyer shrugged him off and didn't reply.
"I know you'll probably want to get Miss Street out of here. I just wanted to give you a heads up that reporters are already gathering in the lobby. Photographers, too. They monitor the police bands on the radio and can get to a scene almost as quickly as we do. I can keep them off the residential floors, but you might want to sneak out a back way before things get too hot here." The officer grinned at the lawyer. "They saw Livesey being hauled off. Evidently the idea of you catching this guy on your own and working him over for trying to assault your secretary is going to make for some good copy."
Mason cursed under his breath and thanked the officer for his warning. As he re-entered the apartment through the ruined doorway, the super advised him that he couldn't fix it until the next day. "I'll just have to nail a piece of ply wood over the opening and get the supplies to rebuild it tomorrow."
"I'll have Miss Street to pack a bag and we'll get out of here in a few minutes," Mason replied. Headed towards the bedroom, he paused when he heard movement from the kitchen. He crossed to the swinging door and pushed it open to find Della rummaging in her refrigerator, pulling out random ingredients, evidently intending to prepare dinner. Mason watched her for a moment.
"What exactly are you planning on cooking, Della?" he asked. "You've got milk, celery, cheese and a package of hot dogs."
Della didn't look at him, but closed the refrigerator and began to peruse the shelf of the open cabinet next to it. "I'm just going to eat something, then go to bed. You don't have to stay," she said pointedly.
Mason sighed. "The super needs us out of here so he can board up the door until he can get the repairs completed tomorrow."
Della closed her eyes in frustration and leaned back against the counter. She reached up with both hands and began to rub her temples.
Perry reached across the space between them and laid a hand on her shoulder. She drew away from him and turned to look out the window over the sink. "Please, Della," he said softly. "You can't stay here and unless you want me to drag you to a hospital for the night, you can't stay alone either. If we leave now, we can beat most of the press. You can come home with me and relax. It will be ok."
She turned on him, anger flaring in her eyes. "Easy for you to say," she snapped, sarcasm making her normally silky voice harsh. He recoiled, almost as if she'd slapped him. Hurt clouded his eyes for a heart beat as he met her gaze. After a moment's hesitation he spoke, his voice quieter than normal. "I deserve that. And worse."
Before she could reply, there was a knock at the kitchen door. The maintenance man stuck his head in and inquired if they would be much longer. He wanted to finish up his work. Mason glanced questioningly at Della Street. She nodded resignedly.
"Give us ten minutes," Mason told the other man. The super nodded and left them alone.
Perry Mason regarded his secretary for a long moment. She met his eyes somewhat warily. "Why don't you pack a bag and I'll put these things away," he said, indicating the food on the counter. "Then we can get out of here and you can rest."
Della nodded. "Perry, I'm sorry -."
Mason interrupted her, shaking his head. "You have nothing to apologize for, Della. But please, let's just leave before we have to fight off every reporter in town. We'll talk later, alright?" Della took a deep breath and nodded her acquiescence.
Within 15 minutes, lawyer and secretary made their way down to the ground floor in the service elevator. The maintenance man unlocked a back door that opened directly into the parking lot, not far from Della's car. The reporters, keeping watch on the main elevator and noting that the lawyer's big convertible remained parked at the curb, didn't see the couple make their escape.
The drive to Perry Mason's apartment was relatively quick and completed in silence. Della leaned back in the seat with her eyes closed. Mason, unsure whether or not she was asleep, kept quiet. Once inside his apartment, he suggested she take a hot bath while he prepared dinner. She nodded, somewhat dispiritedly, and took her bag from him, then headed for the bathroom.
The bathroom opened off of Perry's sumptuous bedroom. It was built on a large scale, like the man himself, and smelled slightly of his favorite aftershave. Della set her overnight case on the counter and studied her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles that didn't have anything to do with the bruises had formed under her eyes. Somewhat taken aback at the haggard face she saw reflected there, she wasted no time in running a hot bath.
The tub was deep and took some time to fill. By the time she settled into the water and turned off the faucets, she could faintly hear noises coming from the kitchen as well as soft strains of music from Perry's radio. Della listened for a moment, then sunk down below the level of the water. When she pulled herself back up, she hugged her knees to her chest, dropped her head to her knees and finally gave in to the tears she'd been holding back with the last shreds of her composure.
Perry Mason paced the floor of his living room, checking and re-checking his watch. Della had been in the bath for a long time -too long. Her concussion had him worried, but he was completely unsure what he should do. She probably needed some space and wouldn't at all appreciate an interruption from him. On the other hand, how long could a bath possibly take? What if she'd passed out?
Finally he heard the bathroom door open. He breathed a sigh of relief. Moments later Della, clad in a pair of simple pajamas and his own heavy terry cloth robe, entered the room. She appeared somewhat nervous as she ran a hand through her damp curls.
"You mentioned food?" she said.
Mason smiled fondly at her and gestured towards the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about taking your robe, but I didn't bring one," she said as she followed him into the kitchen where the small table in the breakfast nook was set for two.
"Don't worry about it," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "You do look a little lost in it, though."
She looked down at the robe which reached almost to the floor. "I thought I'd never get the sleeves rolled up far enough." Mason chuckled. Della slid into the banquet as Perry placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of her.
"Is soup and sandwiches ok? I didn't know how hungry you were," he said as he finished assembling their sandwiches at the counter.
"It's fine," she said quietly. The hot soup felt good as it slipped down her raw throat, warming her inside much as the bath had outside. She inhaled deeply. "This is wonderful. Old family recipe?"
"Old army recipe," Mason said and finally sat down across from her, attacking his own bowl.
They ate in silence for several minutes. Eventually Della laid down her spoon and napkin. "That was really good." A corner of her mouth turned up as she looked across the table at Mason. "Thank you."
He smiled at her briefly, then dropped his eyes and studied the tabletop. The silence between them became uncomfortable. Della made a movement as if to leave the table, but Perry reached out and gently held her wrist. "This was my fault, Della. I want you to know I realize what a fool I've been and that it could've cost you...your life." He finally looked up at her and she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. "You tried to tell me. You knew what that bastard was capable of. I just didn't listen. If I had..." His voice trailed off and he swallowed hard.
Della didn't speak for a long moment. "That's quite a leap of logic, even for you. You could never have anticipated this, Perry."
"Maybe not, but if I'd paid attention, he would have gone to jail sooner and would never have had the opportunity to hurt you." He reached out and brushed his hand down the unbruised side of her face. "Next time I'll listen. I promise."
Della pulled away, sitting back in her chair. She picked up her napkin and pulled it back and forth through her fingers. She started to say something but stopped. Mason waited expectantly across the table from her.
"You're good at solving puzzles, Perry." Della met his eyes across the table and he could see both pain and anger in her expression. "There is one that you haven't solved yet. If you don't solve it, I don't think things can continue between us."
AN: That's not a cliffhanger, right? You know what she wants to talk about. :)
Happy Birthday, Barbara Hale!