Guilty

Chapter 1

Monday morning - Three weeks earlier

"Perry, it's Tragg." The identification was unnecessary. The moment the lawyer heard the gruff voice on the other end of the call he knew who it was.

"Well, good morning, Lieutenant. I assume you're not calling just to say hello."

There was no answering levity. Instead, Tragg's voice took on a very serious tone. "Listen, Perry. I wanted to… that is to say…"

Perry snagged a cigarette from the wooden humidor on his desk, flicked his lighter, and drew in a deep drag. "Spit it out, Tragg!"

There was an awkward sigh before he stated simply, "Jason Ainsworth escaped."

Choking on the cigarette, Perry reached for the coffee cup at his elbow. Even though it was lukewarm, he took a big gulp. Unfortunately, that triggered a wracking cough.

Della Street, always at his side, jumped to her feet and began patting his back. Now she was beginning to worry, knowing something serious must have happened. She leaned her head down close to Perry's ear, hoping to listen in.

"Are you okay, Mason?"

Perry managed to gasp a reply. "Fine."

"What the hell happened?"

"If you must know, your news went down the wrong way." Tears filled his eyes as he took a few more deep breaths. Dropping the cigarette into the ashtray, he cleared his throat. "I'm alright now. Give me the details."

"It was the transport. He was being moved from the jail to the prison, and the van was in an accident. I've already had the preliminary reports. It wasn't anything coordinated. Just— It was just one of those things. The takeaway is the same: long story short, Ainsworth is in the wind…"

Della was now holding tightly to Perry's shoulder, her body rigid with fear. She knew that Ainsworth had sworn to kill Judge Canfield, Hamilton Burger and others. But his primary threat had been against Perry, whose testimony on the stand had sealed his fate. When he was being led from the courtroom in handcuffs he had railed so vehemently against Perry that Della had thought the man must be truly insane. And now he was on the loose.

"I get the picture," Perry grunted. "Any idea where he is now?"

Tragg's heavy sigh on the line told Perry volumes. "It's been easy enough to gauge his direction. He killed an elderly couple who were on vacation and stole their car. It was found down near the docks, so we're assuming he's back in the city. He may have wanted us to think he boarded a freighter to leave the country."

"How do you know that was him?"

"His signature was all over the scene, Counselor. He made sure of that." The silence that followed the statement implied the crime scene had not been a pleasant one to process.

Della's grip on his shoulder became painful and Perry reached up to grasp her fingers, trying to not only reassure her but save his shoulder from bruising. He met her eyes, read the fear in them, and sought to reassure her. His smile woefully missed the mark.

"Okay, Tragg, forewarned is forearmed. I'll be careful."

"Mason, listen. We've hired a private security service. I'll have a man there at your office in…"

"Forget it! Paul Drake can be with me and won't get in my way."

"Damn it, Mason!" Tragg swore, "Think of Della for a change. If he comes after you, she could be in more danger than you are."

"What do you mean by that?" It was a throwaway question, and he knew it. His grip on Della's hand tightened.

"You know exactly what I mean, Perry. Neither you nor I want Della in the crosshairs of this. Your attraction to her hasn't gone unnoticed. If someone wants to target you for revenge, the way to harm you is through her. And you know it."

Tragg was right. Perry didn't want her to become collateral damage. He sighed heavily, knowing what had to be done. He also knew the argument ahead of him wasn't going to be pleasant.

"You're right, Tragg. I give you my word, I will make sure Della is safe. Thanks for calling. And Arthur…"

"What?"

"Take care of yourself, too."

Before the cop could answer, Perry dropped the receiver back in its cradle. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling the stubble of his late-night beard.

He felt Della move from behind him, hearing her speak into the phone, telling Paul to get to the office immediately. Then her hands returned to his shoulders, gently kneading the knots that had formed.

Moments later, the private office door banged against the wall as Paul rushed in, revolver in his hand. Quickly assessing the room, seeing his two friends were obviously alright, he shoved the gun back in its holster.

"Perry?" Paul said his name like a question, but the inflection also carried his grave concern. He looked from his friend to Della and back again, just to reassure himself.

Perry waved a hand in the general direction of the chair. Della gave him a weak smile and headed to the conference table to pour Paul a cup of coffee. The silence in the office swelled, and a portent of danger hung in the air like the retreating fragrance from an over-doused debutante.

Paul noticed how her hands shook, spilling the liquid into the saucer. She put her hands to her face and when she started to crumble, he bolted to her side before she hit the floor. Scooping her up, he carried her to the couch, gently lying her down. Without bothering to think, he grabbed Perry's overcoat from where he had tossed it on the back of the couch, carefully covering her. Only then did he look back at Perry, who seemed rooted to his spot.

The poor guy's in shock, he realized. He straightened and moved to stand in front of the expansive desk.

"Alright, Perry! Out with it! What on earth is going on here?"

"Jason Ainsworth escaped." It came out as a flat statement.

Definitely shock. Paul gripped the edge of the desk, unsure how to respond to the lawyer's news. "And?"

Perry rubbed his hands over his face and up into his hair. He tried to light another cigarette but his hands shook so badly he couldn't keep the lighter steady long enough to connect the flame to the tip.

Paul finally took pity on him and lit the cigarette. "Are you ready to tell me—"

A low moan from the couch derailed his reminder. Faster than he could turn around, Perry was on the move, kneeling beside the couch, reaching for Della's hand. She managed to sit up, catching the overcoat as it slipped toward the floor. Taking her hand, he caressed the soft skin, all while searching her face with those dark, penetrating blue eyes that could freeze a killer in their gaze, or melt an iceberg of resistance in a hostile witness.

After a moment in which she sustained his scrutiny, he asked tenderly, "Are you okay?"

To his profound astonishment, her hazel eyes flashed in irritation—at him—and she scowled. "Let's see, Perry. You have an escaped, insane killer who threatened to kill not only you, but half the people in the courtroom. You refused police protection, and tried to play it off as no big deal. All told, I'd say that I'm fine, just fine!"

"Della—"

"Don't you dare 'Della' me! Paul," she flicked her eyes over to the very worried Mr. Drake, "see if you can talk some sense into him because he obviously is not going to listen to me or Lt. Tragg."

She snatched her hand away from Perry and stood swiftly, swaying a little until she found her balance. He stood too, ready to support her if she needed him. With another scathing look tossed over her shoulder, she returned to the table, picked up the coffee pot and hurried through the connecting door to the office kitchen, slamming it behind her for emphasis.

Paul whistled. "I think if this escapee doesn't kill you, Della might."

Perry grunted, but he looked thoughtful. Della only reacted that way when she was worried or deeply distressed. In this case, she was obviously both. He frowned, then met his friend's eyes.

"I might have blown that," he admitted.

Paul slouched into an armchair, then held up his right hand in the shape of a pinch. "Just a little." Waiting until Perry resumed his seat behind the desk, he prompted, "So, are you going to give me a little more information, or do I just start guessing."

With no further hesitation, Perry told him everything Tragg had imparted. When he finished, Paul let out another whistle.

"Okay, pal. So as of now I am your bodyguard. I will be attached to your hip until this maniac is caught or killed."

"I know that's what Della wants," he said thoughtfully, "But I'm more concerned about her. You and I both know I'm the most vulnerable when she's in danger. Ainsworth is no fool. She was with me when I witnessed . . . But I convinced Burger not to put her on the stand. There was no need for both of us to testify. But she was in that courtroom, too."

"What do you want, Perry? Do I salve her fears, or yours?"

"Hers. You stay with me. I'm going to do the only thing I can do. I'm sending her away until… Either to her parents in Chicago, or to Mae's."

Paul resisted the urge to snort. "I hate to point this out, but you and I both know she isn't going to Chicago. That's too far away, in case you need her. And you're nobody's fool, either, Perry. At some point, you'll need her."

I need her all the time, he thought morosely, guilt flashing in his eyes at his own helpless selfishness. Still, his jaw rippled in determination. This is one time she is going to be out of the line of danger, if I have to hurt her feelings to put it across.

"Paul, I want you to put a couple of your men around Mae's place to protect them."

"Faulkner and Davis. They are the best I have other than myself, and they both adore Della." Perry's head jerked up and Paul laughed. "Adore in a platonic, we-value-our-lives sort of way."

"Okay. Now all that remains is to convince her."

"Good luck with that." Despite how it sounded, the detective meant it sincerely.

Perry only nodded.

As though on cue, Della reentered the office, her hands carrying a tray with a pot of fresh coffee and a bottle of scotch with three glasses. She set it on the table, then waited for her boys to join her. After pouring each of them a healthy measure of the liquor, she looked at Perry.

"So where do we go from here?"

Perry exchanged a look with Paul, who, true to form, gave him the 'it's on you' look in return. He bought a little time by taking a deep sip of the Scotch. She was waiting, refusing to make the situation easy for him. He turned pleading eyes on her.

"We're closing the office. I'll send Gertie to that spa in Arizona for a vacation."

Della looked at him over the rim of her glass. She knew what was coming, and squared her shoulders for it. "And?"

"And I am asking you to go to Mae's. Paul will send two of his men with you to provide protection."

He waited for the blast he was sure would come, but it never materialized. Instead, she left the table and carried her glass out onto the terrace, leaning against the rail to look out over the bustling city.

He followed her, as she knew he would. "Della?"

She didn't turn, but her left hand gripped the railing so tightly, her knuckles turned white. He took the glass from her and set it aside. In the next moment he was behind her, his hands on either side of hers on the rail, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. She sensed his tightly wound energy, and she knew him well enough to know he didn't want to hurt her. He was far more scared than he could admit, either to himself or to her. So she did it for him.

"I'm scared."

He wisely didn't brush off her concern. Without moving, he gave her space to continue her thoughts.

"There's a madman out there, bent on killing people. We know what he did, and we heard what he promised to do. He's after our friends and—" she broke off, waving her hand out toward the city, then finished, "others we don't know. But more than that, he's after you. I know Paul will protect you as best he can. But what if…"

Perry turned her to face him. "If's don't count, Della. I know that threat is real. Just as I know I'm vulnerable, even though I know how to protect myself. But this is the best way. With Paul beside me, I will be okay."

She laid her palms on his chest and met his eyes, searching for reassurance. Her misgivings were still winning.

"You must go. Neither of us can concentrate on being safe if we're worried about you. Please do this for me."

"Perry, I…"

"Please."

She could see the concern. But it was the underlying fear in his eyes that scared her. Perry Mason was afraid of nothing. "Alright Perry. I guess the fresh air will do me good. And I've been meaning to visit Mae for a while."

He smiled down at her, relief at this battle won, and it transformed his face. His eyes lightened momentarily as he praised, "That's my girl!"

She laughed at that, then moved out of his embrace. "What's the play, Chief?"

"Paul is going to have Frank Faulkner take you to your apartment to pack, and then he and Jack Davis will drive you to Bolero Beach."

Unconsciously she reached for his hand. It was warm, firm and calloused, used to work, not just paper pushing. When he started back into the office, Della grabbed his hand.

"Perry?"

"I'll be fine."

Don't make promises you can't keep, she told him silently, but there was nothing else to say.