The Case of the Crying Swallow

Chapter eleven

It was nearing midnight when Perry Mason and Paul Drake walked into metropolitan police headquarters with a description of Marcia Winnett and a series of photographs.

“Of course,” Mason explained to Sergeant Dorset, “the major doesn’t want any publicity. She had a spell of amnesia several years ago. He’s afraid it may have returned.”

Sergeant Dorset frowned down at a memo on his desk. “We’ve picked up a woman who answers that description — amnesia — a hospital telephoned in the report. How does it happen you’re mixed in the case, Mason?”

“I handle the Winnetts’ business.”

“The deuce you do!”

“That’s right.”

Dorset regarded the memo on his desk. “The county teletype says a man named Drummond was murdered. Mrs. Winnett’s nurse saw it all, phoned in a report. She had the license number of the murder car, Drummond’s wife’s.”

“Indeed,” Mason said, his voice showing courteous interest, but nothing else. “May we take a look at this amnesia case now? The major is very anxious.”

“And,” Dorset went on, “when the county officers picked up Drummond’s wife, she swore that not only was the killing in self-defense, but that the nurse had been blackmailing her. The nurse called her a liar. Mrs. Drummond’s confession puts her in a poor position to claim blackmail. I understand the county is so pleased with having cracked the murder case they’re washing their hands of all the rest of it.”

Mason glared at Sergeant Dorset. “Will you kindly tell me what all this has to do with Major Winnett’s wife?”

Dorset sighed. “I wish to hell I knew,” he said, and then added significantly, “but I’ll bet a hundred to one we never find out now.”

Mason said, “Come down to earth. That murder case is county. The sheriff’s office wouldn’t like a city dick sticking his nose in.”

Dorset nodded. “And by the same sign the way you’ve arranged it, the amnesia case is city and the county men won’t mess around with that.”

He regarded the lawyer with a certain scowling respect.

Mason said very positively, “I don’t see what the murder has to do with all this if the sheriff’s office has a solution and a confession, but one thing I do know is that if you have Major Winnett’s wife here she’s suffering from a nervous ailment and if you make it worse with a lot of fool notions, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Do I get her now, or do I get a habeas corpus?”

“Hell, you get her now,” Dorset said disgustedly. “I can’t help feeling that if I knew everything you’d been doing in the last twelve hours I’d get a promotion, and if I try to find out, I’ll be back pounding pavements. Damn it!”

He picked up the telephone and said into the transmitter, “Send that amnesia case number eighty-four on the night bulletin up to my office.”