Chapter Ten

Lieutenant Tragg of Homicide leaned against the door on the driver’s side of Mason’s automobile.

“How did it happen you discovered the body?” Tragg asked.

“We went to call on Agnes Burlington. We rang the doorbell; we got no answer. The lights were on. I looked through the window; I saw a woman’s foot. We went around the back of the duplex house and I saw the back door on the west unit was open a small crack.”

“So you pushed the door open and went in?”

“Right.”

“Why didn’t you telephone for the police the minute you saw the woman’s foot?”

Mason laughed. “I didn’t want to take an ordinary drunk case where a woman had had too many cocktails and had passed out and magnify it into something that would make the newspapers... and involve me in a damage suit.”

Tragg said, “For your private information. Mason, we don’t like lawyers who go around discovering bodies. You’ve done it before — too often.”

Mason said, “I’m a lawyer who gets out on the firing line. I can’t sit in an office and wait for a case to develop.”

“All right, all right,” Tragg said; “we’ve been over this before. You’re a lawyer who gets out on the firing line; you can’t sit in an office and wait for a case to develop. Now, then, what was it you couldn’t wait to have develop in this case?”

Mason said, “I have reason to believe Agnes Burlington was a witness in a case which is of some importance to a client of mine.”

“What kind of a case?”

“That,” Mason said, “I can’t discuss.”

“And what did you think Agnes Burlington was going to testify to?”

“Again, that’s something I can’t discuss.”

“Playing cozy and secretive all the time, aren’t you, Mason?”

Mason said, “I try to protect the interests of my clients.”

“All right,” Tragg said, “you went in. You found the body. You touched it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To see if she was merely unconscious.”

“The evidence indicates she had been dead for some time. You didn’t notice that the blood was all dried?”

“I noticed it,” Mason said. “But if the woman was alive, I was going to do everything I could to give her help.”

“As soon as you touched her you knew that she was dead?”

“Yes — and had been dead for some time.”

“You ever talked with this Agnes Burlington before?”

“No, I hadn’t.”

“What do you know about her?”

“She was a nurse.”

Tragg looked across the steering wheel into Ellen Adair’s eyes. “This woman is your client?” he asked.

“Right,” Mason said. “This is my client.”

“And you say she’s a responsible businesswoman?”

“She’s head buyer for the big department store of French, Coleman and Swazey.”

Tragg looked past Ellen Adair to Della Street and smiled. “And we know all about the incomparable Della Street, your secretary.

“All right,” Tragg said; “let’s hear from this young woman. What’s your name?”

“Ellen Adair.”

“Ellen Adair is hardly in a position to make a statement,” Mason said. “She’s my client.”

“Stop her any time you want her to stop talking,” Tragg said, smiling. “Go ahead; let’s hear what you have to say.”

Ellen Adair said, “I came here with Mr. Mason and Miss Street. We found the woman dead and promptly called the police.”

“Did you touch anything?”

“We left things just as we found them.”

“Why did you come here?”

Mason shook his head and smiled. “We’re getting into the matters I prefer not to discuss at this time.”

Tragg said, “You just came in here, found the dead woman, and called the police?” His eyes were studying Ellen Adair’s face.

“Yes,” she said.

“All right,” Tragg announced; “you folks can leave now. We know where to reach you if we want you.”

“Thanks,” Mason said.

“Not at all,” Tragg said with exaggerated courtesy. “It’s a real pleasure to cooperate with people who are so anxious to cooperate with us.”