As soon as the sheet covering Della Street was removed, Hamilton Burger wished that he had thought of a way to bar Perry from seeing her.
Instantly, both the denial and the man had crumbled.
"Della!" the defense attorney gasped out, an enormous amount of pain infused into the two syllables of her name. He stumbled forward, caught her limp form in his arms, and lifting her partially off the hard metal table, pressed her to his heart. She was still dressed in the same elegant lavender skirt suit which she had worn in his office on Friday. "No, no, NO!"
A deep, body-shaking sob tore from him, followed by another, and another, and another. With uncharacteristic, complete abandon, forgetting that he had an audience, Perry began to wildly kiss her hair, her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, and even her lips.
"My darling!" he whispered brokenly between sobs. "And I…never even told you…how much…I loved…oh, why…why you?"
Clutching her close, Perry continued to weep profoundly, tears running down his face like riverlets. At a loss for what to do, his friends stood behind him and exchanged desperate glances. Having been involved in homicide investigations for years, they had all seen grown men cry on occasion, but this was, without question, the most heartrending scene they had ever witnessed. Perry Mason, the prestigious lawyer who had never quailed under any challenge, had, in one moment, been reduced to a trembling, broken man.
Suddenly, Perry Mason paused, put his ear to Della's nose, exclaimed:
"I think she's breathing!"
Horror filled the face of the District Attorney, the private investigator, and the Lieutenant. Undoubtedly, common sense had deserted Perry; he was on the verge of a psychiatric breakdown, if not already in its grasp.
It was Paul who came forward, put a comforting hand on the attorney's back, and attempted to bring him back to reality.
"No, pal. She is cold, and motionless, and has no pulse. Your imagination is playing tricks on you."
As much as Perry wanted to contradict him, even he could not deny that Della was cool to the touch, and that there was nothing but a horrific stillness under his fingertips as he felt the carotid artery in her neck. Paul was right; the slight gust of air he thought that he had felt emanating from Della's nose had to have been an illusion. He burrowed his face in her brown, soft hair and started to sob again. How could he have been such a fool? If only he had told her that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her – she could have been his wife, living under his roof, far out of reach of any criminal in the Rosewood Apartments. How could he have let work get in the way of telling the precious girl something so important? Why had he not said 'thank you' more when she stayed late at the office with him or went out of her way to make his life easier? Because of his delays, the only kiss they would ever share was the one he had just pressed upon her lifeless lips.
The three men watched him for a few more minutes, but when his grief showed no sign of abating, they realized that something had to be done. Holding a dead woman for hours in his arms could scarcely be good for Perry's sanity.
Lieutenant Tragg approached him and said in his official voice,
"I'm sorry, but we have to leave now, Counselor." Perry did not seem to hear him. The Lieutenant gently began to pry Della out of his arms. Paul Drake stood beside Perry and, taking his hands, simultaneously tried to unwrap them from around the body. "Please, Counselor, you have to let her go."
For a moment, Perry resisted them with all his might, but suddenly his own arms went limp, and Arthur Tragg found himself supporting most of Della's weight. For the first time since they had entered the room, Perry lifted his eyes from Della. A chill went down the Lieutenant's spine. The lawyer's ocean-blue eyes, which had always been extremely alert and introspective, were completely empty.
Paul gently steered Perry away from the table and escorted him out of the room, leaving Lieutenant Tragg and Hamilton Burger to tenderly lie Della back down on the metal table and cross her arms over her chest. Once they had completed their task, they hurried after the defense attorney and the private investigator.
Oh Perry. You poor, poor man.
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