After Hours Special
The trial had been long and exhausting. The District Attorney, Hamilton Burger, had been so sure he had his man, so to speak. With the clean evidence the police had brought him, plus the testimony of the witnesses, he had been practically assured a victory! After all, he had the defendant dead-bang to rights with those witnesses testifying he had been the man at the scene of the murder.
Only . . . Defense Attorney Perry Mason was before the bar on this case and had pulled the proverbial rabbit out of the hat, proving one of Hamilton's prime witnesses was the real killer. How his adversary had revealed the truth had stunned the courtroom—and him—yet again. When the truth was out and the case was lost, Hamilton was thankful for the outcome. He, like Perry, sought only justice.
Now Hamilton, Lieutenant Tragg, Paul Drake, Perry and Della Street were gathered at Clay's Diner for a quiet, private dinner. What started out as a quiet evening quickly turned to loud laughter and boisterous fun. Although Perry and Della usually took their client out for a celebratory meal, this time their client had declined. Thus, overhearing that, Hamilton had offered to treat instead.
Their steaks having been consumed and the champagne poured, Paul launched into an amusing story of how he had unearthed a key piece of evidence in a different case. Tragg teased him mercilessly about his methods, and with a twinkle in his eyes, offered to revoke the private detective's license until he could find a way to "get a clue" without picking up a girl. Everyone had a good laugh at that.
Perry looked over at Della, who seemed a little distracted, but before he could say anything, Hamilton asked a question. He glanced at his host for the evening but was aware when Della excused herself from the table.
"Perry, how did you know it was Daniels? With everything Tragg brought me, I could have sworn . . ."
"The timing of his visit was off. There were two other witnesses who swore they saw Harry, but Daniels said he was there at the same time. Therefore, it follows that since Harry didn't lie to me, Daniels had to be guilty…"
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft strains of Frank Sinatra's "All the Things You Are." Abruptly tossing his napkin on the table, he rose without excusing himself and crossed the floor. Waiting only the space of a heartbeat, he took Della in his arms, and held her closely, then started to move to the rhythm of the music.
The four men still seated at the table stared at the couple, for that was definitely what they were. Paul smiled, knowing his friends were finally happy with their new-found love. It had taken them long enough to admit to each other what he had known all along. Hamilton frowned, wistful he hadn't acted sooner, hadn't snapped her up himself. Then he shook his head, knowing Perry hadn't taken advantage of Della; after all, she had to be responsible for his rival's mellow demeanor as of late. It was Tragg who sat almost expressionless. He didn't like that Mason was so obviously involved with Della. But then seeing the look of love on Della's face, he had to admit she seemed very happy. And that was what mattered.
Clay was watching the two people he had come to appreciate as friends. The heart wants what the heart wants. Making sure everyone had a full glass of champagne, he raised his own.
"A toast. To the best of friends, may we always be friends."
As the others clinked glasses, the couple on the dance floor were oblivious to the goings-on at the table. They were too lost in the other's eyes. When the song ended, Perry drew Della in for a long, passionate kiss.
"All the things you are to me, Della. Everything I say or think or do is for you. You know that, don't you?" His voice was low, meant only for her ears.
"The music stopped," she murmured, but her eyes confirmed she had received and reciprocated his statement.
"I think we should join the others," he suggested, but his arms never lost their firm hold on her.
"Others?" she asked, her expression dreamy. "I only see you. I love you, Perry."
His smile was everything. "And now I think we should head for home."
"You're the boss . . ."