Phoenix
Chapter 2
When Perry Mason walked into his hotel suite and found the doll with the broken neck and the pinned message, his heart raced rapidly at the mere thought that something bad could happen to his young client. That sweet, helpless little girl! He reached for the telephone, demanded a long-distance connection, and, when he heard Paul's jovial voice, forced himself to be outwardly calm. But despite that, his brow was moist with sweat, and his palms were cold. Fear gripped his insides until Paul indicated that Peggy Smith and Della had just entered the office.
After giving his private detective instructions, Perry spoke to his girl to make sure everything was going well with her. He knew what kind of upheaval the appearance of Peggy Smith would cause, both physically and emotionally, and felt (as usual) helpless and ineffective to help Della with it. She reassured him she was fine, that they were all fine, but there was a note in her voice, an unspoken frisson of tension, that allowed doubt a foothold in his mind. After hanging up, he took out a cigarette, lit it with an unsteady hand, and glared at the broken doll. To him, the threat was nothing to laugh off. Absently he poured himself a drink and then sat on the sofa in his room. Taking a strong drag on cigarette, he supported his head on the back of the furniture, closing his eyes and letting the emotions flood over him. Then the memories began their invasion.
Might as well admit it, he told himself, Peggy not only affected Della, she's affected you!
Nine years. Nine years had passed since the fateful day Perry and Della's life took a 180-degree turn. Although he would never admit it to anyone, much less his wife, Perry agreed with her that it would not have been a good idea to have another child. He opened his eyes and looked across the room at the broken doll once more. Seeing it on his nightstand, the threat loomed larger than life and closer to home. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could read the words printed on the paper: "This can happen to little girls too."
He set his glass aside. His stomach turned at the thought that an investigation—any investigation—of his could endanger young Peggy. His eyes moistened suspiciously. If he felt this way for a child who was not linked to him by any kind of familial tie, how much more would he be a mess as a parent? How would he feel if this threat were to his own daughter? Until that moment he had not realized, or rather, did not want to realize, that his profession was dangerous, or that the life of his child or Della would always hang by a thread if any rascal or criminal thought to hurt him by hurting them. So far, Della had kept herself safe because outside of her family circle she was just his faithful secretary.
Snorting in frustration, he stared at his glass of bourbon, while his thoughts wandering. Perry allowed himself a moment to imagine what she would be like if his daughter hadn't died, hadn't been taken away from them.
She would be exactly the same age as Peggy.
He needed no reminders of Della's barely visible, yet pained face when the child's date of birth was mentioned. Like her, Perry had had to conceal his surprise and pain, but unlike his wife, he covered it under a face of indifference. Yet he felt anything but. The dull ache in his chest he submerged each morning under a litany of tasks to do and cases to work had ratcheted up. Like a constant refrain stuck in his head, the thought went round and round and round.
Della never had a chance to hold her baby. Della never had a chance to hold our baby. Della never had a chance to hold my baby. Della never had a chance . . . Della never had a chance . . . The grief! Oh, the unbearable grief that he hadn't been able to do one damned thing to keep his princess safe, to make his wife whole again. At least he had the consolation of having seen his little princess for a few seconds. That's why he knew all too well that when Della hugged Peggy, she was vicariously hugging her own daughter.
I shouldn't allow myself to lower my defenses, but. . . Peggy needs someone in her corner. She needs a safe refuge from a world too cynical to care. And yet, if all our efforts to find her family pay off, it will be like Della and I have lost our girl all over again!
That was what he had feared when Paul told him that Della had brought the little girl to the office. He had entertained the terrible fear, the horrible idea that perhaps their love would not survive such a loss a second time. Reaching for the glass, he gulped the amber liquid and felt his throat burning. It was raw, visceral; something upon which to focus when nothing else was concrete. After taking a deep breath and wiping away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks, Perry prayed to heaven that at the end of this case, the deep love he and Della had for each other would remain unharmed. Unharmed, but stronger. Stronger, and above all, restored.
XXXX XXXX XXXX
Chicago, Office of Michael Domenico.
Michael Domenico was anxiously awaiting the call from his right-hand man. He had already consumed several glasses of whiskey and used up a pack of cigarettes.
I don't understand how that damned lawyer has found a way back into that insipid little girl's life! Everything was settled nine years ago, damn it! Everything went perfectly!
Nine years ago, everything had gone perfectly, since Perry Mason and Della Street had believed their daughter had died. That had pleased him no end. Although he had carefully covered up his involvement with the scheme, there had been no blowback on him. No one in his sphere even remembered he had had a fiancée, much less knew what had become of her. No one in Chicago much cared about a teenager who fled to California.
And so he had taken his revenge on Della by stealth. But he wasn't so inhuman to actually order the hit on a child. That was, as the saying went, a bridge too far. But the pain of being planted at the altar while his beautiful flower was on the wind? That needed redress.
Getting up from his desk, Michael walked over to where his safe was, opened it and took out a white envelope. Returning to his place, he sat down again and took out its contents. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of paper, still lightly scented, and a beautiful diamond solitaire ring which could blind a person with its glare when the light struck it. He began to twist it absently, watching the colors reflect and refract on the wall opposite him. Then he tossed it onto his desk. Turning his attention from it to the paper, he unfolded it and began to read.
Dear Michael,
I know I've been the worst woman in the world to you, and right now I can't imagine how much you must be hating me. Forgive me for being a complete coward and not having courage enough to look you in the face, to admit to you that I did not want to marry you.
Although I love you, my love is not strong enough of an inducement to become your wife. If I accepted our commitment, it was due to pressure from our parents.
I thought I could go through with it, but as the date of our marriage approached, I realized that if I married you, we would both make the biggest mistake of our lives. Because what you wanted was a woman who was by your side, as the mother of your children and mistress of your home. But that woman is not me. I can't become her. And I think I would die inside a little each day if I tried. My dream is to study and then work. Like you, I want to be someone useful for society, not just what my parents have arranged for me. I wish I could be Mrs. Michael Domenico, one more accessory for your house, but you don't need that any more than I want it.
That is why I sincerely hope that in time you will be able to forgive me and that you find the woman who will love you as you deserve. Perhaps, in time, we will be able to go back to being the good friends we were before things changed. Before you kissed me. Before you became too serious. I loved that boy who defended me from the neighborhood bullies and taught me to defend myself against them.
Michael, I can only ask your forgiveness again and I hope that one day in the not too distant future you will truly find happiness.
Della.
He crumpled the letter. Then, thinking better of it, he laid it on the surface of his desk and smoothed it out again. Refolding it, he returned it to the envelope. Then in a pique of rage, he gripped his glass of whiskey and hurled it against the wall with fury. Suddenly, the sound of the intercom interrupted the tense moment.
"Mr. Domenico, Mr. Wilson, on line one."
"Thank you, Lisa," he gritted out, careful to modulate his voice. Then he picked up the receiver. "Robert, it's about time! I have been waiting for your call for hours."
"Sorry for the delay, Boss. I just finished touching base with the man in charge of following Mason in Switzerland. He informed me the lawyer has visited the shop already. So, our man purchased a doll, and left the message. If that doesn't stop Mason from meddling in what does not concern him, nothing will."
Michael shot his hands through his neatly combed hair. "Fine! Tell your man to keep watching him until he gets back to Los Angeles. Also, I want you to keep me posted on every move Mason makes. Understand?"
"Perfectly."
"Uh, Robert, what happened to the man assigned to watch Miss Street?"
"He's got tabs on her. Just a while ago I was informed that she has been visiting the boarding school frequently. Since Mr. Mason went on the trip, she has made it a point to see her at least once a day. She even took the little girl for a walk this afternoon."
Michael rattled his fingers on top of the white envelope. "All right, keep monitoring them both and report any news to me immediately."
Robert terminated his end of the call.
After hanging up the phone, Michael let out a loud snort. "Della… Della, you know I haven't forgiven you yet! I know you've heard the expression 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.' Who would have thought you would willingly come back to the table for seconds!"
It couldn't be working out any better if I had planned it this way! Of course Della is going to fall in love with the girl—it's only natural a mother would love her own flesh and blood. And her husband! Ha! Here he is, the best thing this side of Paradise, and he is going to make it his mission to find that little girl's family. The irony! Perry Mason is going to be the one to rip her from Della's heart all over again!
He clapped his hands in glee as his diabolical laughter filled the office.