Notes: Ninety-eight percent of my Perry Mason stories run about 10-15 chapters in length. I don't plan for this one to be any exception.

Chapter Five

Della was confused and bewildered on the drive with Hamilton. Why didn't she remember anything after her conversation with Perry? And what had Perry been talking about during it? He had said something about her having been rude to Aaron by talking about Tobin Wade. She just didn't understand.

"Della?"

She started at Hamilton's concerned voice. "Mr. Burger, don't you have any idea how I could have gotten out here?" she cried in dismay.

"No," Hamilton said in amazed disbelief. "I've been in court. I haven't heard anything about what you've been up to, except what Steve told me about some necklace Gene Torg is ranting about." He chuckled. "He claims it's possessed."

Della subconsciously reached up, feeling for something under her blouse at her throat. Nothing was there. "I remember that," she said. "It's in Perry's safe."

"Yes, Steve said he told you to go ahead and take it back there," Hamilton said.

Della raised her hands higher, massaging her temples. "I just don't understand any of this," she fretted.

"Well, I tried calling Perry and he didn't answer," Hamilton said. "Neither did Paul. Could you have been ambushed?"

Della blinked in surprise. "I . . . I guess that's possible," she said slowly. "I don't remember being hurt, but why else wouldn't I remember?"

". . . It could have been an emotional shock," Hamilton said, keeping his voice gentle. By now he was really quite worried about Perry and Paul as well as Della.

"You mean I might have seen something horrible happen," Della surmised.

"That's right." Hamilton pulled in at Rampart Emergency Hospital. "Only it still doesn't explain how you got back to Los Angeles. Not unless whatever happened, happened here and not at Dr. Stuart's office."

Della turned, grabbing at Hamilton's wrist. "Mr. Burger, you have to try calling Perry again," she said urgently. "I won't have a minute's peace until I know he's alright."

"I'm sure he feels the same about you," Hamilton returned. "Once you're inside and a doctor's examining you, I'll try again. Alright?"

Della finally nodded. "Alright."

She got out of the car, idly noting that her purse seemed slightly heavier than usual. But she never once considered that the reason might be because a certain emerald necklace had been hidden in a zippered compartment she rarely ever used.

xxxx

David stood outside the car shop, staring off into the distance and lost in thought. When Amos Berry approached him from the side, he didn't even look up.

"Hey!"

That caused him to jump a mile. "Oh . . . Amos. Sorry, I didn't hear you," he apologized.

"And people say I don't hear so well anymore," Amos grumped. "Come on! There's more work to be done."

"Alright, I'm coming." David followed his employer back inside. "What do you want me to start on?"

"This car here." Amos pointed to a dark green convertible.

"Oh no!" David groaned. "Not Mannix again!"

"Yeah, again. It means more business for us anyway. So hop to it!" But just as Amos was about to leave, he paused. "What was it you were thinking about out there?"

"Nothing," David said quickly. "Nothing that has any bearing on this."

"I should hope there aren't any bears!" Amos cried. "Look, sometimes you get funny this way. You didn't think I'd notice? You go into these ways where you stare off at nothing or stand around seeming sad. Sometimes I've seen you rubbing at your head. It don't still hurt, does it?"

"No," David said, again swiftly. "No, I'm just remembering the past."

"Well, you should be thinking about the present and the future, like you were when you came to me looking for work while you were getting over a concussion." Amos's hands went to his hips. "I've never pressured you about your past because I didn't figure it was important, but now I'd like to know at least this: is your past gonna interfere with your work now?"

"No, it isn't." David came closer to the convertible. "I'll start in on Mannix's car now. Don't worry, Amos!"

"Well, okay." Amos started to move slowly away. When he saw David reaching inside the car to pop the hood, he turned and left in satisfaction.

David sighed to himself as he watched Amos go. "Don't worry, Amos," he muttered again. "This is my life now. My past isn't going to change that." He came around to the hood and scowled at the signs of damage from bullet holes. "I never thought that someday I'd know how to fix something like this." Sighing again, he added, "But this is easier to fix than what my past caused." Taking a wrench, he set to work correcting the latest calamity to the car—and wishing that it were equally possible to correct the calamities to people's relationships.

xxxx

When Perry saw that his phone was ringing as he returned from briefly checking a town bar for Della, he grabbed it off the car seat and immediately answered it. "Hello?!"

"Perry, what in the name of . . . are you alright?!"

Perry rocked back at the greeting. "Of course I'm alright, Hamilton," he said in surprise. "What's going on?"

"That's what I wish someone could tell me!" Hamilton exclaimed. "I found Della wandering around town looking sick. She said she couldn't remember anything that happened after you and she were talking in Aaron Stuart's office! I took her to the hospital and I've been trying to reach you and Paul ever since."

Perry gripped the phone in alarm. "Hamilton, we're still in Manzana Valley! We've been looking everywhere for Della. How on Earth did she get back to Los Angeles?!"

"She'd like to know that as much as you and I would," Hamilton answered. "But Perry, how did Della get away from you in the first place?"

Perry fell silent, debating whether to reveal the details of Della's shocking behavior at the school. But then, deciding Hamilton needed to know in case Della suddenly acted out again, he said, "It's a long story. She'd been acting strange all day . . . although actually, it really seemed to start when we reached the school. She kept needling Aaron and finally came out and told me she believed he must have turned against Tobin Wade first or Wade never would have done the things he did to the Stuarts. She sounded as if . . ." He paused. "As if she knew Wade."

"But she didn't," Hamilton protested.

"I know." Perry frowned. "She also started talking with a Southern accent every time she acted that way. Finally she just pushed through the door and ran off."

Hamilton leaned on the desk at the nurses' station, shaking his head in disbelief. "I really don't know what to say, Perry," he said. "All of that is just bizarre. It isn't like Della in the least."

Perry sighed, gripping the top of the passenger side door. "I know you won't like to hear this, Hamilton, but after all this, I can't help thinking about those stories Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were telling about that necklace last night. Della was in close contact with that necklace the entire time we were at the police station. What if . . ."

"Oh, Perry!" Hamilton grimaced. "You're not going to say you think Della was possessed by an evil spirit from the necklace?"

"I don't see how she could have been," Perry said. "Miss Chute said that nothing happened until she actually put the necklace on, and Della hasn't worn it. Still, I'm having Paul run a check on Ellena Fanchon. I want to find out if she knew Tobin Wade."

"And what are you going to do if you find out she did?" Hamilton retorted.

"I don't know," Perry sighed. "I almost wish Wade wasn't dead, so I could try to ask him about her. I've already asked Aaron and he doesn't remember someone by that name at all."

"Well," Hamilton said ironically, "I guess if you really want to ask Wade, you could get a Ouija board and conduct a séance. Just don't invite me; I'd probably unintentionally break the spell." But then he winced. "I'm sorry; that was uncalled-for. I know you're just trying to figure out what's wrong with Della. I'm worried too. It's just that I don't think we should pounce on a paranormal explanation any time something happens that we can't explain."

"I agree," Perry said. "That's why I wasn't considering it before. But I don't think we can just ignore what Gene Torg and Pearl Chute said, not when it actually could explain Della's behavior."

"Except that she wasn't wearing the necklace," Hamilton reminded him.

"That's the rub," Perry sighed. "Well, Hamilton, thank you for looking after Della. Call me back as soon as you hear what the doctor has to say. I'm going to get Paul and Pete Kelton and head back."

"Alright, Perry. Stay safe." Hamilton hung up, frowning deeply to himself.

xxxx

Aaron and Marian came out to greet Perry when he, Paul, and Pete drove back to the school to say Goodbye. "Oh Perry, I was hoping you'd come back," Aaron said. "Have you found out anything about Miss Street?"

"Yes, I have," Perry frowned. "She turned up in Los Angeles and was found by Hamilton Burger. I'm sure you remember Mr. Burger."

"Yes," Aaron sighed. "But what did she say? How did she explain the way she behaved?"

"She couldn't. She doesn't remember." Perry gripped the wheel. "We're going back to Los Angeles now to see her."

"I hope she's alright," Aaron worried.

"Don't you have any idea what could have caused her to behave so strangely?" Marian asked in concern.

Perry hesitated, not wanting to introduce the Stuarts to ideas of the supernatural at this point. "There's only some vague possibilities," he said. "Della must have been working too hard lately. So many odd things have been happening for months now—mysterious and deadly cases with people we know and love being hurt. Eventually that would strain even the most resilient person's nerves."

"Yes, I suppose so," Aaron agreed. "But I just can't figure out why her nerves would strain to the point of believing something so outlandish about me."

"That's what we'd like to know too," Paul said.

"That name, Ellena Fanchon, still doesn't sound familiar?" Perry asked.

"No, it doesn't," Aaron said. "I never knew Tobin went down to New Orleans, but he could have."

"Or the New Orleans girl could have come up here," Marian added. "He was popular with the ladies. I think even Janet Gwynne kind of liked him."

Perry blinked in surprise. "That's right," he remembered. "She'd left some of her books at his cabin. That's how you found out he was still alive after the incident at the cliff—she went to get them and happened to see him through the window."

Aaron turned to look at Marian with a start. "I didn't even think about that," he said in chagrin. "I wonder if there's any chance Janet could be behind the hauntings. But no, I can't really believe she would think anything along the same lines that Miss Street was talking about."

"I can't think she would either," Marian said kindly.

"And then there was what Miss Street said about Tobin being behind the hauntings." Aaron shook his head. "Ghosts might or might not be real, but I still don't want to have to believe that Tobin might be doing this to us." He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought we were finally free of him and his betrayals."

"I hope you are," Perry said. "I'm sure you are. But perhaps not free from someone who blames you for his death."

"You know," Paul mused, "isn't it strange that none of these haunting incidents happened while we were here all day? Or when Perry was here last night?"

"Not necessarily," Aaron said. "These things don't happen every day. We can go for several days without anything happening."

Marian nodded in agreement. "We can almost believe it's stopped and then suddenly something happens again." She looked worried. "And maybe whoever is doing this knows about all of you coming and deliberately didn't do anything because of that!"

Pete cringed. "Which would mean that my cover might be blown before I even start."

Aaron looked to him. "If you want to back out, Mr. Kelton, I won't object."

"No; I'll still be here tomorrow to start work," Pete assured him.

"Thank you," Aaron said, the relief noticeable in his eyes and voice.

"We'll let you know as soon as we know anything concrete about any angle of this case," Perry promised.

"Good." Aaron tried to smile and relax. "Maybe we'll be able to get something solved around here." He stepped back from the car. "Well, good luck, Perry, everyone. I hope you'll find Miss Street back to her normal self."

"So do we," Paul said.

He looked to Perry once they were past the school. "So you didn't want to tell them that Della might be possessed by Ellena's ghost?"

"Not really," Perry said. "What purpose would that serve?" He sighed, staring off into the distance. "I'm actually not sure which sounds worse, for that to be the case or for Della to be so ill that she's delusional."

"Neither thing really makes sense," Paul said.

"Well, we did witness at least one case of possession when Helen Garden's restless spirit possessed Bonnie Craig," Perry remarked.

Paul cringed, recalling The Case of the Spiteful Spirit all too well. "Yeah, and that was weird and disturbing enough. It's different when it's someone you really know well and love. I really don't want to believe that it's happening to Della."

"Neither do I, Paul," Perry answered. "But I also don't want to believe that Della would say those things or act the way she did of her own volition."

"You know," Pete spoke up from the back, "I was just thinking how strange it is that Tobin Wade is so central to everything that's going on here and yet none of us or Della ever met him."

"Oh, I met him at least once," Perry said. "But you're right that Della never did. That only makes this all the stranger."

Paul sighed as he looked out at the dissipating twilight. "You said it, brother," he muttered.

xxxx

Hamilton perked up as Della came back to the waiting room, her purse slung over her arm. The color was back in her face and she looked much more alert and like her usual self. "Well? What did the doctor say?" he asked.

"He thinks I'm just fine," Della said. "He couldn't find anything wrong with me, other than the gap in my memory." She smiled at him. "I think the message you sent back, that Perry and Paul were alright, helped more than anything else could have."

Hamilton relaxed. "I'm glad. But are you being released then?"

"They don't have any reason to keep me," Della said. "I just want to get home. Is Perry here yet?"

"He and Paul are coming back from Manzana Valley," Hamilton said. "We can call them from the car and let them know I'm taking you home."

Della smiled more. "Why, thank you, Mr. Burger."

"Well, there's no sense of calling a cab," Hamilton half-muttered with an awkward gesture.

"What did Perry say when you called him?" Della asked. "I know he must have been worried sick."

"He was," Hamilton agreed. He had to wonder how much to say. He really didn't want to be the one to tell her that Perry suspected she had been possessed by a necklace!

"Well, did he say what happened when I left?" Della pressed.

They stepped outside and over to Hamilton's car. "He was sort of vague on that point," Hamilton said as he unlocked it.

Della frowned. "Mr. Burger, you've never made a good liar. There's something you're not telling me."

Hamilton let out a frustrated breath. "Alright," he said, opening the passenger door for Della before going around to the driver's side. "The fact is, Perry doesn't know why you left. He said you said some very strange things about Tobin Wade and then ran out."

Della froze. "What?" Quickly she slid into the car, pulling the door after her. "Mr. Burger, why would I be talking about Tobin Wade?"

"We don't know," Hamilton answered. "Perry said you said that Aaron Stuart must have betrayed Wade first or Wade wouldn't have started doing the things he did."

Della slumped back in the seat, stunned. "I wouldn't say something like that!" she gasped. "Poor Dr. Stuart! He and Mrs. Stuart never did anything to Tobin Wade and yet he turned against them both!"

"Yes, I know." Hamilton started the engine and began to pull out of the hospital parking space. "But according to Perry, you still said that. And you spoke with a Southern accent."

"What?" Della stared at him. Once again, just as in Aaron Stuart's office, that seemed significant. She knew that she knew the meaning of it deep down, but for the life of her she could not call it forth now. "Mr. Burger, did Perry say anything else?"

Hamilton cringed. ". . . He mentioned a woman named Ellena Fanchon," he said slowly.

"Ellena . . . of course. She stole the necklace and was murdered in New Orleans." Della frowned. "I wanted to solve her murder."

"The necklace?" Hamilton glanced at her.

"Yes, the necklace that Gene Torg and Pearl Chute were talking about," Della said.

"Oh," said Hamilton.

"It's back in the safe in Perry's office," Della said, not remembering she had mentioned that before. "Why was he talking about Ellena?"

"He . . ." Hamilton wondered how to put it delicately. "He wondered if you were exposed to the necklace for an unhealthy period of time."

"Mr. Burger, I don't know what you're talking about," Della said helplessly. Even so, her insides were beginning to twist. Something about his words made her very, very anxious.

"He . . . oh, for Heaven's sake. He thinks maybe you were possessed by the necklace, the same way Pearl Chute claims she was." Hamilton braced himself for Della's reaction.

"That's impossible!" Della shot back. "I never even put the necklace on."

"We know you didn't. But Perry still felt it was something that should be considered. He just can't believe you would say the things you did if you were aware of what you were saying."

"Of course I wouldn't! But I wasn't possessed either!" Still, Della slumped back in the seat. Could she have been? It could explain the gaps in her memory and the bizarre things she had said. A shiver ran down her spine.

"You know it's the last thing I want to believe," Hamilton said. "Perry feels it should be considered along with everything else. Maybe he has a point, especially after some of the cases we've had lately, but I'd still rather not consider it."

"And what's left aside from that?" Della countered. "I don't like thinking that I could have said those things on my own, either."

"But that's possible," Hamilton said. "Maybe you just need a long rest. If there's something actually wrong with you, Della, that shouldn't be ignored because we're all thinking that some mysterious spirit is trying to control you."

"That's true," Della conceded. "But the opposite could also be said, Mr. Burger. What if we don't consider the spirit and she's able to wreck more havoc because we're focused on thinking I might be losing my mind?"

Hamilton sighed in exasperation. "Oh, I don't know what to do!" he exclaimed.

Della sighed too. "Let's wait and see how I feel in the morning," she encouraged. "I'm planning to have a nice, long rest tonight."

"Alright," Hamilton conceded. "Fair enough."

"And maybe we could talk to Mignon, too," Della suggested. "She might have an idea of what to do."

"I'm sure she'd have something," Hamilton agreed. "After I take you home, I can call and talk to her and see what she'd say."

Della smiled. "Thank you."

"Of course, she'll probably lean more towards the possession angle," Hamilton grimaced.

"I know," Della said. "I think we should hear what someone well-versed in the occult might say."

Hamilton sighed.

In the necklace, overhearing the conversation, Ellena frowned to herself. Her allies were right; she had been much too bold and brash. She could not let her presence be revealed ever again. Now she was relieved that in the morning she had placed that order for an identical, paste copy of the necklace to be made. When it was ready, she would take and place it in the safe with the earrings. No one would discover that Della still had possession of the genuine article. They couldn't, not until the plan was fully realized and Aaron Stuart paid for what he had done.

xxxx

Steve was sitting at his desk, looking over a file, when Sergeant Brice hurried into the office. "Lieutenant?"

Steve looked up. "What is it?" He lowered his reading glasses, studying his partner.

"We finally got an I.D. on the body in Topanga Canyon," Brice said, handing Steve a piece of paper. "And get this: he and Gene Torg used to work at the same place. It's a small establishment; they must have known each other."

"Oh really?" Steve glanced over the information and then looked up. "I guess it's time to get Mr. Torg back in here."

Brice nodded. "I've already ordered him brought in for more questioning."

Steve was pleased. "Good." He set the paper down on his desk. "It sounds like our two-bit con artist hasn't been telling us the whole story. It will be interesting to find out what else he's held back."