Author's note: Thank you really very very much for your kind reviews and PM's. Feedback is the only profit I want from this, I like it. Thanks again.

Now this chapter might bring part of the solution. Or not. Or partly.

Chapter 6

Looking back, the afternoon and evening were a blur to Mason. He had moved from the office to the policestation, because they had asked him to come over. He had spent hours and hours of interviewing witnesses, going over CCTVfootage and images, reconstructing events again. There had been no contact with kidnappers or whatever, there had been no request for ransom, no sign of life of Della at all. And not a single useful clue. At all.

He had finally given in to Brock's advice to go home for a while. " Three or four hours won't hurt, Mason. " He didn't go home to sleep, but merely to flee from the noise, the suggestions and the constant attention Ken, Paul, Brock and his sergeants requested from him. He was very tired and agitated because of needless questions, possible scenario's that were brought to him he thought were ridiculous, and the pityful looks that were thrown at him every now and then.

The press in front of his house, and the one glance he had granted himself through the papers had made him sick. The suggestions that Della had run off with his money to finally enjoy her life, pictures of her on his arm, smiling or watching him serious. Pictures of them in court. Pictures of them in the early days at nightclubs, dancing way too close. One of the articles had actually been on the question if they were or were not married and why. In other circumstances he had just felt pity for the people who were writing and reading this, because they propably had no other purpose in life, or knew no other way to relax than by dwelling in the garbage that was displayed in these articles.

Now the articles just made him angry. Which was the wrong way of using the energy he needed to find her. He realised that just after he had torn the papers into pieces and threw them into the waste bin.

As he walked to their bedroom to try and get some rest, the darkness in the house remembered him of two nights before, when they had walked into their dark house together and he had danced her to their bed, while undressing her slowly to make glorious love to her. The whole house breathed her scent, even her sounds, her throaty laughter were everywhere in the deafening silence. He stared into her rosegarden, and remembered how thrilled she had been when they found this house and its beautiful garden. How she had agreed on running their office here in Denver and living here, because he loved to teach here, and was offered a professorship.

He had carried her over the doorstep into the house when they moved in. They had joked about the real estate agent who had said, very distinctively minding their age, that the master bedroom of this house was at 'street level'. With that typical tilting of her head, she had said she had always thought she was the only one who was at 'Street level', and that she liked it here immediately.

He felt the strong urge to kick or hit something again, and squeezed his hands into fists in his pockets. This morning, at the morgue, for one everlasting second, he had thought he had lost her forever. The despair from that one second mixed with the fatigue that washed over him now, made his heart heavy. Of course he knew that one day, one of them had to go on living without the other, but he had never seriously considered that it could be him. That it was actually possible that it could be expected from him to live a life without her.

He dragged himself out of this dark state of mind, by switching on the lights in the bedroom, and going through the details. Now what was it in the letters, he felt was so very clearly the key to find out where she was now? He had read and reread the letters, together with Ken and Paul. Why was it so familair to him? What was it about the 'meaning of words' in the last letter? Why would someone go through great trouble to watch her so closely for so long, and to know about her clothes and her whereabouts? Why did she go into the van without hesitation? Why did she withdraw almost all of the money? And why had she left a little of the money in the accounts?

Too much tracks, too much details. If she were only here to conduct his thinking. He sighed wearily and climbed in his bed, to lay on the covers without taking of his clothes. He took her pillow to inhale her scent firmly, and allowed himself to doze of just a little, after putting the phone next to his head on another pillow.

He grabbed it after the first ring.

" Della? "

" Yes, Perry...dear, it's me…"

He sat straight up in his bed, his eyes wide open, adrenaline racing through his veins. " How are you? Where are you? "

" I'm quite okay, Perry. " Her voice sounded all right, quite stable. But he knew how her 'quite okay' wasn't the same as her 'fine' . He concentrated to hear the exact timbre and tone of her voice, and the sounds that surrounded her. No hollow sounds. No sound of traffic. Birds singing at the background. A male voice at the background.

" I'm not really down or anything." A very small smile was tugging at his lips. She was giving him clues. 'I'm not really down or anything' what did that mean? He went over to her bedside and grabbed the notepad and pencil that were always there, even now, and started to write.

" They want me to read something to you. " 'they' , so there were more of them.

" Who are they? " he dared to ask.

" I don't know, I…" Her sentence was cut off.

" Read the note…! " a female voice hissed close to the phone. Right, so at least a man and a woman were there.

" I can't, it's just night and it's too dark outside, you have to get me some extra light, which should be avalaible in a well-maintained big building like this. "

Good girl, he thought. It's dark there, she calls it 'just night' , so she must be in this timezone or a close one. 'big building' 'well-maintained'

" Read the damn note…! "

" I can't read this bad handwriting, and get me some reading glasses. "

'bad handwriting' 'reading glasses' ? She never wore them, she didn't need them. Who was wearing them? Why did she refer to them?

" This is it: ' My dear Mr. Mason,' Now doesn't that sound familiair to you, Perry? "

'familiair ' , so it had to be people he knew. Good girl, Della, go on.

" Read the goddamn note….! "

" Here is the rest, all the rest, Perry. ' Now that I have taken all that you value, your money and your love, maybe the meaning of the word will come to me even better than to you. '

' Here is the rest, all the rest ' Now what did that mean? And what the hell did the note mean?

He heard the threatening voice hiss again. " Now hang up the phone. "

" Check the money, Perry. It's important. " Della whispered.

'check the money'

" I will. I love you, Della. And I will find you. " His hand squeezed the phone so very thight, his knuckles whitened.

" I know you will, I ..." then they were cut off.

" I will find you. " He said it again for his own reassurance, and put the phone in its cradle. Then he picked it up again to phone Brock, to see if the tap they had put on this phoneline earlier, had been able to track down the exact location where the call had come from.

####

" Man, Mason, you look like something the cat brought in two weeks ago. " Lieutenant Ed Brock walked into his office with two steaming mugs of fresh coffee. Even though it was just 5 o'clock in the morning, the police station was crowded. Ken and Paul were still interviewing witnesses, which wasn't an easy job at this time and day.

" Thanks, Ed, " Mason's grunt was low which matched his mood. " What have you got? "

" Well, sir, all we know is that the phonecall came from inside this state, a place up north. The call was too short to find the exact location, but as you said, she is in this timezone, and I can confirm she is in this state. And, sir? "

" What? "

" We now know she is alive. "

" When I spoke to her, yes…"

" We're going over the clues she gave you, but we can't really get to the bottom of it. We believe you and your team should go through them, because you know her better than we do, sir. "

" I suppose…" Mason rubbed his face.

" Now you better get some rest, couns'lor, shave, get a good breakfast, and I mean a healthy one. You know what she'll do to me if I bring her back to you, and she sees you like this? " Brock tried to joke.

" Just find her, Ed. She's been gone now for what? 40 hours….and I'm nothing without her. Nothing. " The big man stood up, and put his hands in his pockets. His typical pose, the one his Della loved most. Had she been here, she'd put her arms around him, her hands on the small of his back underneath his jacket and she'd look up to his eyes. They would only exchange looks. He'd only have to bend his face down a little to kiss her lightly. Then she'd lay her head on his chest, and he'd nuzzle his face in her hair and inhale. He wouldn't need more than that to ease his mind. He wouldn't even take his hands out of his pockets.

" I'm sorry for you, Mason. But you know we do everything to get your lady back, do you? I personally turn every damn stone I find, you know that. "

" Send Malansky and Drake to my office when they have finished here, would you? "

" Also the lady, sir? "

" The lady? "

" Yes, Malansky came in with eh… what's her name? "

" Amy ? " Mason snorted in disbelief.

" I think so, yes. "

" Yes, send them all to my office, I want to go over the clues with them, as you suggested. I am heading to my office now. Can I take the CCTVfootage from the bank with me? "

" Yes, you can, sir. " Brock sighed heavily. His advice wasn't going to be taken by the tired man in front of him. He was quite positive Mason wasn't going to grant himself some necessary rest.

And indeed, Perry Mason didn't rest, but he did go home to take a shower, shave, change into fresh clothes and even have breakfast. The start of this day, the voice of his Della through the phone in the middle of the night, the fact that she had been feeling secure and smart enough to give him clues, had finally provided him with the energy he was going to need in the next 40 hours.

####

All four of them didn't recognize the man that walked into the bank, holding Della's arm. The images were also quite fuzzy. But it was very clearly it was Della who took the money with her, when she walked out.

" Why on earth would they give Della Street so much money, just like that? " Paul snapped his fingers and couldn't hide his surprise. He saw it happening on the screen in front of him, but couldn't understand it.

" That's a stupid question, Paul. " Mason stated.

" Why? "

" They gave Della Street the money, because she is Della Street. "

" Sure, but…"

" No, no but... In the forty years she worked for this office, she never did anything corrupt, dishonest or illegal . And she is my confidential secretary. Banks know about that. "

" So they trust her…"

" Yes, Paul. They trust her, and for very good reasons… Now look, one of her clues was: 'check the money' …" Mason said thoughtfully. " But we checked it, right? A couple of times… We know how much is missing, we know how she took it, we know when…"

" Well, actually, Mr. Mason, there was something weird about how she took it. " Amy looked at him.

" What, Amy? " Ken growled. If Mason had paid attention, he could have heard the hint of disapproval in Ken's voice.

" Well, you can see from the CCTVimages that Miss Street uses a calculator before she decides what amount to take with her. "

" So? "

" So? If you have to take out a large amount, or let's say someone told her to take it all, why would she need a calculator? She knew the exact balance, right? Why would someone let her take out a very specific amount, unless..."

" Go on…" Mason frowned and narrowed his eyes.

" ...unless her kidnapper wanted it to be a specific amount, or maybe…"

" ...go on…."

" … she herself wanted it to be specific…" Amy continued, as she was obviously conducting her thinking while she spoke.

" Details, Perry. Details. " Ken was reminded of the interrogation of his master three nights ago.

" Do you really think you're funny, Ken? "

" No. I don't. But now I come to think of it, a lot of what you said to me, a lot of what you taught me when I interrogated you, you aren't using yourself now. 'don't use bodylanguage, don't show your emotions unless it's useful, be specific, get into the details…' You're showing emotions overtime, Perry. And not very useful..."

A short silence filled the room. Drake hid his smile behind his hand while he watched Perry frowning the deepest frown he had ever seen on the big man's face. Then he answered in a stern voice. " Now shut up, Ken. Listen to your Della Street here, she has some real useful information she cares to share with us. "

Drake shifted in his chair.

" Did you actually care to check the amounts she left in your bankaccounts, Mr. Mason? " Amy tried to sound businesslike.

" What do you mean, Amy? "

" Well, I started thinking, because of the calculator she used at the bank and because Ken told me you first dated your Miss in December 1947…"

" Yes…." Perry still frowned at Ken from over the rim of his glasses.

" I thought, the amounts Miss Street left on your accounts could refer to a certain important number or maybe a date… Here, this is the amount she left on your private account, she left $ 9.319,48. That could be the third of September 1948 maybe? " Amy watched Mason closely. " Is that a significant date to you, Mr. Mason? Do you recognize it? "

" Yes, " Perry rubbed his beard slowly, startled by this coincidence. Which wasn't a coincidence maybe. " Yes, it actually is…."

" Well? "

" Well, what, Amy? "

" What was the occassion? "

" I'm not going to tell you, young lady. "

" Why not? "

" Amy, for goodness' sake…" Ken as much as yelled at her.

" Ken, it may be relevant to know what the occassion was to be able to find out where she is. But ehm, don't worry… I already know what the occassion was…" Amy gauged Perry's reaction. " Either it was the date they kissed for the first time, or the date they slept together for the first time…"

" Oh, dear, Amy... " Drake couldn't hide his misplaced sense of shame, and watched Ken who just shook his head and threw up his hands at Amy's boldness.

" It's all right." Perry raised his hand. " I don't think it's relevant, Amy, but as soon as I think it is, I'll tell you… all right? " Perry watched her with a mixture of amusement and agitation. " But, good thinking….And, if this is referring to a date, the other amount might also refer to a date. Do you happen to have the other amount Della left? "

" As a matter of fact I have. Right here: $ 226,87." Amy tilted her head, and looked up. " That would be the twenty-sixth of February nineteeneightyseven. Sir. "

" What could that be about? " Ken asked, taking the bankpapers out of Amy's hands.

" I don't know. It doesn't ring a bell immediately… " Perry thought out oud.

" A case? "

" Could be. We'll have to check the files…and the calendar of that month. "

" The files? "

" In the archive, or Della's filecabinet…" Perry said wearily.

" Yeah, sure. "

" You need any help with that? " Amy watched Ken triomfantically.

" No. Paul worked here that year, I'll go check it out with him. " Paul nodded in agreement. " You check the office-schedule of that year. It should be somewhere in the archive, Amy. Behind the library over there. " Ken pointed.

Perry took the remote control to watch the video's of the bank again. He noticed his heart was beating more lightly now. Della had left her clues, they had found a start, the chase had begun. He no longer felt at mercy of the odds, there was something they could do, he could do. He was indeed kicking in doors now, albeit figurative. It felt good.

Halting the images on the screen, he thought about the third of September 1948, which was a very important date indeed. It was the first night she had completely given herself to him, mind, soul and body. He dearly remembered his speechless awe when he had undressed and caressed her incredible beauty and softness for the first time. He remembered her sweet hesitation to touch him, and when he had whispered to her 'let go, let me love you' she had indeed, but very slow and tentative, let go of her reserves. In the end, the movements of her hands and her responsiveness had told him that he was definetely not the first, but could quite well be the last she was making love to. She had moaned his name, and had softly said 'I love you, Perry' which had made him spill tears quietly, because he thought he had never heard something more beautiful, that was so fulfilling to his wishes and matching with his dreams. To hear these three loving words combined with his name, spoken by her lips and given sound by her voice, had become one of the most important reasons for him to live. Which to this day had never changed.

But why would she refer to this date here? What was the hint? Was it a hint? What was the meaning of this? What was she trying to tell him? Was it 'I love you, Perry' ?

Paul Drake's voice pulled him out of his reverie. " We found the case we were working on in February 1987, Perry. You might not like it, though… February 26th 1987 was the day of the aquittance of Glenn Robertson, from Luke Dickinson's murder. "

Perry blew out a big breath. " Oh…"

" Yeah, 'oh' all right. I have some real serious, not very pleasant memories about that one. " Paul Drake watched Perry carefully.

" The Robertson's case… Who was the prosecutor, Reston wasn't it? " Perry asked.

" Yeah. " Paul checked the file.

" He lives here in Denver somewhere. Find him and get him on the phone for me, please, Ken."

" Right away, Perry. "

"Paul, I need you to watch the video of the bank again with me."

" Sure. Why? "

" I think I know now who the man was that went into the bank with Della. Check out the last images, please. "

Staring at the screen, Perry nodded with a very unpleasant grimace on his face. " Yes, it's him. "

" Who is it, Perry? " Paul quiried, afraid he already knew the answer.

" It's Glenn Robertson…" Perry sighed.

" I was afraid you were going to say that…but it doesn't make sense…."

" No, it doesn't make sense at all…"