Part 7.2 – Biological Development
Paul Drake eyed Perry Mason closely. Although the attorney had reported four days ago that all was well with Della and she was recovering nicely, the detective could see tension and worry on his friend's face, and he was more subdued than he had ever known him to be. When Perry had first called to inform him of Della's illness and hospitalization, Paul could tell he was living his worst nightmare, his normally smooth voice raw and exhausted, his sanity so brittle a stiff breeze would shatter it. But he had refused all offers of help, insisting that he was fine handling everything himself. It was obvious the past couple of weeks had affected Perry deeply, and Paul now regretted not ignoring those protests and heading straight to Carmel. He knew Perry would go through ten lifetimes and do anything and everything to ensure Della's wellbeing and happiness, but his current demeanor told a story of fear and stress only just abating.
That's why he felt guilty for calling Perry in Carmel, why he felt even worse now that the lawyer who was his best friend on this earth had come to him immediately, interrupting his time with the most important person in his life. Time he needed himself to rest and recharge from the horrific ordeal of her illness, time he should be spending making sure Della recovered as quickly as possible.
Paul leaned against the table in one of the small interview rooms reserved for attorneys and their clients and smiled ruefully at Perry, trying to maintain his composure. "I'm really glad you're here, Perry," he said humbly. "You must have broken every speed law to get here so quickly. I called you at what time – just before five a.m.? It's not even ten o'clock now. Don't take this the wrong way because I say it with sincere concern, but you look like hell."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Perry found himself smiling. "I'm glad to see you, too. As for looking like hell, you're the third person to tell me that in the past couple of weeks."
"Only three, huh?"
"Yes, only three. First Mae, then Della, and now you. By the way, let me return the compliment. Now, just what in hell is this all about? You said you didn't want to go into details over the phone."
"I'll tell you, but first, how is your favorite secretary? And tell me the truth."
"She's as gorgeous and stubborn as ever and has everyone catering to her every need. For a while there it was worse than I let on, but she's fine now, thank God. Her doctor couldn't be happier with her progress and says she'll make a complete recovery. She has to take it easy for a while, which frustrates her to no end, so we'll probably stay in Carmel another two weeks. I want her completely recovered before even considering letting her back in the office."
"That's good to hear. I'm sorry I dragged you away from her."
Perry waved the comment aside. "Della was the one who insisted that I come back to L.A. I think maybe she needed a break from me. What gives?"
The P.I. sighed heavily and looked at his friend soberly. "Tragg had me arrested and is threatening to revoke my license effective immediately."
"That's nothing new. He's been threatening to revoke your license for years. What did you do now?"
Paul hesitated. "I didn't do anything...in the present." He paused to take a deep breath. "It's the Beckers."
Perry's already pale complexion went ashen and he passed a hand over his face. "What? The Beckers? How did they – what's going on?"
"Damned if I know. Linda and I were sitting down to a nice, intimate dinner and suddenly cops were pounding on my door. Scared Linda to death. I barely had time to say something reassuring to her before they hauled me out of my apartment and down here."
"Paul, maybe it's time we –"
"No Perry, I promised. I promised the Beckers, I promised Julie and her parents…and I remember a brash young attorney whose commitment to his clients was paramount, who skirted the law and took crazy chances to make sure his clients were on the receiving end of justice, and he promised too. You went to the mat for me back then and we can't let everything go down the tubes after all these years."
Perry stared at the P.I. for several long seconds. The Beckers. Of all the things he had thought of since Paul's call, the Becker case had never occurred to him. It had been such a long time ago, his practice was brand-new, his friendship with Paul almost as brand-new.
"All right. I'll get you out of here and back to Linda. Then I'll go see Lieutenant Tragg and invite him to lunch. Maybe if I feed him he'll be agreeable and explain what the hell is going on."
"What if he starts asking questions? What will you tell him?"
"I don't know, but I'll have about thirty seconds to think of something." He slapped Paul on the back and motioned for the attending officer. "Don't worry. That's twice as much time as I usually have."
As he walked down the hall to Arthur Tragg's office, Perry wondered what it was about the Becker case that would interest a homicide specialist for something so far out of his bailiwick as to be ludicrous. Tragg was an enigma, calm and shrewd, and Perry respected the Lieutenant's tenacity, hell, he even liked the man at times. But he could be infuriating, always on his and Paul's heels as they attempted to extricate clients from their difficulties. Perry had to admit that his job wouldn't be half as challenging without such a worthy opponent as Tragg, after having dealt with the bombastic inabilities of Sergeant Holcomb for so many years. He knew Hamilton Burger certainly appreciated Tragg's thoroughness and astute deductions and the quality of the People's cases had certainly improved under the officer's tenure. But now they weren't investigating a murder and weren't in court. It was Paul who was in trouble, all because of what he had done to help his pretty, sweet teenage cousin.
The day was one of those miserable rainy, cold California winter days, and his practice was a mere three months old. He entered his office through the private back entrance, threw his keys on the scarred second-hand desk, and cocked his head to listen for any sound of anyone else being in the office, then smiled. Miss Simmons was already there, the staccato tapping of the keys as she typed just audible through the connecting door to her office. She had very little experience as a secretary, and none at all as a legal secretary, but he had actually found that to be an advantage as they learned the ins and outs of the practice of criminal law together. She had proven to be a quick study, competent and detail-oriented. They made a good team, and he had on more than one occasion congratulated himself for seeing in her talents that she was unaware of but that he suspected she possessed.
His hand hit the buzzer to let Miss Simmons know he had arrived and was surprised when seconds later she knocked on the door and entered without waiting for him to speak.
"Good morning, Carol. How are you this rainy morning?"
"Just dandy, thank you. I have an important message for you from Mr. Drake of the Drake Detective Agency. He would like to see you in his office as soon as possible. He said it's urgent."
He had just begun to lower himself into his chair after lighting a cigarette, but stopped and stood at attention. "All right, I'll run on down there. Paul doesn't normally waste words like 'urgent'. I'll be back shortly."
Margo, Drake's va-va-voom secretary, wasn't at her desk in the reception area, so he simply walked down the corridor past a series of doors leading to cubbyholes used by an army of operatives to the slightly larger office at the end. He knocked, and received a grunt from within that might have been 'come in'.
Paul Drake sat slumped over his desk, face buried in his large hands. He looked up when he entered. He wore a haggard, worried expression, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.
"Morning Paul. My secretary said you wanted to see me."
"Yeah, Perry, I do. Thanks for coming down. I have a problem that requires legal advice."
He eased his big frame into the small chair positioned in front of Drake's desk, adopted his best lawyer-like persona and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "All right. Let's have it."
"It's a personal problem involving my youngest cousin Julie. I've probably mentioned her – she's sixteen, pretty as the day is long, smart and talented. She wants to be a professional musician, and she's got several symphonies already interested in her. But…she's going to have a baby. She's nearly three months pregnant."
He expelled his breath in sympathy. Paul had spoken of Julie before a few times as the bright star in his family. This certainly was something that could derail her very promising future.
"My aunt and uncle are beside themselves. They live in San Diego in a very nice neighborhood and everyone knows everyone else. Julie has two more years of high school and if this gets out it could ruin her future with the symphonies that are courting her. My aunt called last night on the verge of a nervous breakdown and asked me to help. I said I would try and do whatever I could. You're the first person I thought of, Perry, the only person I could think of that I trust enough with this. Julie made a mistake, a stupid, stupid mistake, but she's a good kid and deserves to fulfill her dream."
He studied Paul across the desk silently then placed his hands flat on Drakes' desk and pushed himself out of the spindly chair. "Of course I'll do whatever I can to help your cousin, Paul. Call your aunt and tell her we'll meet with them Saturday afternoon at their house. This isn't my specialty or even anything I know much about, but we'll figure something out for Julie. Tell your aunt and uncle to try and act as if everything is completely normal."
Relief flooded across Drake's weary features. "Thanks Perry. I really appreciate this. So do my aunt and uncle."
"No problem, Paul. Right now I'm going to go back to my office and start checking into a few things." He straightened and turned to leave, but stopped. "There is one thing you can do for me," he began.
"Sure, you name it and I'll do it. Do you need names, addresses, phone numbers?"
He gave the detective a deadpan look. "No. I need you to get a bigger, more comfortable chair."
How could what the two of them have done all those years ago cause Paul to be arrested? He also wondered if there was possibly a warrant out for his arrest as well, although he had walked into Headquarters big as life where he was quite well known and was still unaccosted. He worked his mind the last few steps toward Tragg's office to come up with something plausible to tell the Lieutenant without giving too much away.
Just as he reached out to knock, the door swung open and the tall figure of Lieutenant Arthur Tragg was framed in the doorway. "Well good morning, Counselor," he said genially, no surprise evident in his voice. "I see you made it back from wherever you were in record time. Miss Street isn't with you?"
"Sorry to disappoint, but Della is sitting this one out," Perry replied with non-committal evenness, "since Paul's incarceration is going to be of such short duration."
Tragg smiled at the pointed statement. "Why don't you come in and we'll discuss Mr. Drake's troubles," he invited. "I'm still surprised you wouldn't want notes taken in regard to the charges."
Perry threw the officer an annoyed look. "I told you, Della isn't available at the moment. I'll just have to trust that whatever you have cooked up is legitimate and well-documented."
"Oh, it's well-documented," Tragg replied, leveling his gaze at the big attorney. "You should know."
"You're making assumptions, Tragg. Why don't you tell me what's going on and we'll see if I know anything or not."
"All right, Mason, I'll do that. I've recently become aware of information regarding a family member of Mr. Drake's."
"And that information would be…?" Perry prompted impatiently.
"It concerns a baby's true parentage and subsequent clandestinely arranged adoption. That baby's birth father has come forward and wants to know about his child. The man is from an influential family and has become quite successful in his own right and he wants to meet the daughter he claims he only just learned about. He may even want custody of her since he was never informed of her existence." Tragg sat down behind his desk and chewed on the end of his cigar while eyeing Perry Mason shrewdly for any reaction to his words. He wasn't expecting any – Mason could hold a poker face with the best of them – but it was worth a try. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about this illegal adoption would you?"
"You know that I do. What is it you want me to say?"
"I want all the details, Counselor. Tell me everything you know and do not leave anything out and maybe you'll escape charges against you I've been considering all morning."
As he suspected, Perry looked back at him with an unreadable expression. "You know perfectly well I can't do that, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, yeah, lawyer-client confidentiality and all that. I just thought you might come clean if it meant going to jail."
"You know better than that. And you know I'm not going to tell you anything until I've been given a full run-down of the evidence and charges against my client, as well as myself if it comes to that."
Tragg deliberately removed the cigar from between clenched teeth and set in on the edge of an ashtray, leaned back in his chair to regard Perry Mason appraisingly. "I assume you're here to demand Mr. Drake be released," he asked rhetorically.
"I'll have a writ worked up in under an hour. Without specified charges and the willful withholding of information, I don't think I'll have any trouble finding a judge to sign it," Perry responded a touch belligerently.
"Well, I'm not going to release Mr. Drake of my own accord. Go file your writ, Mason. Let's do this by the book."
Perry's patience was stretched to its limit, any and all thoughts of lunch with the Lieutenant abandoned. As much as he wanted to get Paul out of jail, it couldn't compare to how much he wanted to keep the circumstances leading up to his arrest out of the hands of reporters. He was fully aware of the father's identity, but the adoptive parents were equally well-heeled and respected. If the press got wind of any of this mess, they would have a veritable field day pitting one influential family against the other. This situation could consume him, could result in his own arrest, and he wouldn't be able to get back to Della, who needed him too.
"Now look here, Tragg. You know damn well I can't divulge anything. You dragged Paul in here hoping to get information, hoping he would tell you whatever it is you want to know, but you have absolutely no reason to hold him on some cockamamie charge I still have not been informed of. And why the hell is a homicide cop involved in something like this anyway?"
Tragg regarded him with brooding life-weary cop eyes before making a decision. "As you well know, the father's name is Theodore Balfour. His family is very wealthy, and he has also amassed his own personal fortune with several aeronautical inventions. He hasn't told us how he found out about the baby, but when he spoke to Drake's aunt and uncle they told him to contact their nephew or you. He tried to contact Paul Drake, but he couldn't be found, and neither could you. So Balfour busted into Headquarters demanding to see someone who knew the two of you, and unfortunately, I happened to be bringing in a suspect and the desk sergeant turned him over to me."
Perry smiled briefly. "Wrong place at the wrong time, huh."
"That happens a lot when you're involved, Mason. Let me warn you, this young man is very angry and very determined to get some answers. He believes his rights to this child were egregiously ignored and was quite clear in his intent to take legal action against you and Paul Drake. He wanted to speak directly to Mr. Burger but I headed him off at the pass and did the only thing I could think of: I arrested Paul Drake under suspicion of tampering with evidence and falsifying legal documents. I could revoke his license in a heartbeat, Counselor, or I could go to Mr. Burger and just as quickly have you disbarred due to the part you played in this adoption sham. This is a case I don't believe you want publicized. I've managed to keep Balfour away from reporters so far – don't thank me because I didn't do it for you – so you'd better think of something quick or it's going to hit the fan but good."
Perry had been standing in the middle of Tragg's smallish office, hands shoved into his pockets, legs planted apart, chin thrust forward. "Lieutenant, I know who the baby's biological father is, and I will tell you that he was of legal age and informed of the impending birth. Every attempt was made to include the young man in the resolution to the situation he had gotten himself into, but it was a lost cause. His family refused to allow us access to him and went so far as to deny that the child was their son's. They were more concerned with their standing in society than their son's future with the mother or the child. The girl's parents offered to help support the baby while she finished high school and then went on to a music conservatory in preparation of accepting an offer from a symphony, but the boy's father couldn't have cared less. Our only option was to find a good home for the baby with a family that wouldn't talk about the baby's origins. I knew of a couple who couldn't have children of their own, and they were thrilled to take the baby. So we worked up the adoption papers and had the records sealed. You can believe whatever you want, but we did what we thought was best for everyone, especially that innocent baby, and we helped two families in the process. No money changed hands and even though we knew it was a touchy legal circumstance we were dealing with, we had no other choice. It was a good choice, and a choice I'd make again. The mother is a respected, successful musician and her baby is a happy, healthy and adored young lady."
"All you had to do was file proper adoption papers," Tragg reminded him, "and we wouldn't be here right now."
Perry snorted. "We filed proper papers. We also had legal documents whereby one Theodore Balfour relinquished any and all claim to the child of Julie Williams. For him to come forward now and claim no knowledge of her existence is utterly false."
"We've been trying to locate these 'properly filed' papers, Mason, and so far nothing has turned up. We have to take Balfour's claims at face value. And considering that his parents back up his story…"
"This is bullcrap, Tragg, even you must see it. You may not like my methods, but have you ever known me not to have a legal basis for what I've done? If you'll give me the number where Balfour can be reached I'll settle this to the satisfaction of everyone involved and keep the child involved safe from a custody battle she shouldn't have to endure. If you want to have Burger begin disbarment proceedings against me, go right ahead, but you'll both have egg on your faces." His voice never rose above normal conversational volume, but the tone was firm and no-nonsense. "I've had the most terrifying two weeks of my life, a nightmare I never want to experience again, which reinforced what's truly important in the world. You don't want to cross me right now Tragg, so I'd advise you to release Paul immediately and give me Ted Balfour's number."
Tragg had never seen the lawyer like this, rage controlled and internalized. Something other than the situation with Paul Drake and Julie Williams had affected him greatly, that was plain enough. Although curiosity almost ate away his professionalism, he merely stared at the furious man before him.
"All right, be an ass, Tragg. I just have one question for you and then I'm leaving. What would you have done if you were faced with the same situation? Especially if it involved someone you cared about, someone who was young and had an endlessly bright future ahead of them. And if by doing this you saved two young lives and at the same time facilitated a miracle for someone else…Tragg, if I didn't believe it before, as sure as the sun rises every morning and sets every night, after this past couple of weeks, I believe in miracles. Chew on that for a while. Good-bye, Lieutenant."
Perry pivoted on one planted foot and headed for the door, hands shaking in his pockets with barely contained rage and weariness. He needed Della to tell him everything would be fine and that he had done the right thing for Julie and the Beckers…and especially for Barbara Ann Becker. He needed to hold her and let her warm, low voice flow over him soothingly, but first he had to fix this mess.
"Mason," Tragg barked and Perry turned to face him. "I don't know what this nonsense about miracles and the past two weeks is all about, but I'm guessing it has something to do with Della since you've been so cagey in regard to her whereabouts. I want you to know I sincerely hope she's all right. And since you look like total hell, you get me that writ and I'll release Paul – but only with a writ. I'll need something concrete and substantial to drop the charges altogether, so get on your horse, Counselor. I can't keep Ted Balfour away from Burger or the press indefinitely."
Perry Mason's face softened around the edges slightly, but only someone who knew him well or had studied him at length would notice. "You'll have that writ in less than an hour. And thank you for your concern about Della. I'll be sure to tell her." He yanked open the door and strode through it with righteous confidence.
Damn that lawyer, Tragg thought. Just when he thought he had him against the ropes, he dragged the one vulnerability the men shared into the fray: Miss Della Street. He hoped for her sake that Mason could dance his way out of this fiasco. He sighed. He may as well have Paul Drake's release papers prepared for the eventuality of the writ. He had a feeling Perry Mason would be moving very quickly to resolve this mess and get back to wherever the hell it was he'd been holed up for the past two weeks with his 'miracle'.