The Case of the Reluctant Model

Chapter Six

Mason and Della Street left the elevator just as the door of the entrance office to the Drake Detective Agency opened and Paul Drake emerged.

“Well, hello, you two,” Drake said. “Headed for your office for a spot of night work? I didn’t think you were going to be up.”

“We’re headed for your office,” Mason said, “and we’ve got a lot of night work for you.”

“Oh, no!” Drake moaned. “This was the night I was going to catch that show I’ve been trying to see for so long. I’ve got a line out on your girl friend, Maxine. I’ve got a choice ticket and—”

“And you’re turning it in,” Mason said. “Come on back, Paul.”

“What’s the trouble?” Drake said. “Another murder?”

“Hell, no,” Mason told him. “I wish it were another murder. Those things are simple. This is something I’m involved in.”

Drake glanced inquiringly at Della Street.

“He’s taken a button and sewn a vest on it,” Della Street said, “but I guess you’re going to have to go to work.”

“All right,” Drake said, “come on in. Incidentally, I left a note for you. As I told Della on the phone, your Maxine has been calling. She left a number. I said I didn’t think you’d be in at all tonight. Here’s the number. Want to call her? I gave her Della’s number. Calling her now would save having Della disturbed later.”

Mason shook his head. “Later, not now. I want to think things over for a few minutes — want to talk them over.”

Drake held the door open for them, said to the girl at the switchboard, “Here’s a theater ticket. Give it to one of the operatives to surrender for cash, to peddle, or he can see the show.”

Drake opened the wicket gate which led to the long runway with little offices opening on each side, and Della Street led the way down the familiar alleyway to Drake’s office.

Drake seated Della Street, indicated a chair for Mason, then seated himself behind the desk on which there were several telephones.

Mason said, “Damn it, Paul, I wish you’d get a bigger office! There isn’t room for me to pace and I can’t think without pacing.”

Drake grinned. “You just tell me your troubles, Perry, and then go down to your office and start pacing while you plan how you’re going to get enough money out of your client to pay my bill, because I’m adding the price of a scalper’s theater ticket to my services tonight, as general overhead.”

Mason said, “The hell of it is, Paul, Della Street is right. I’ve taken a button and sewn a vest on it — but the vest matches the button.”

“Well?” Drake asked.

“The button is real,” Mason said, “and for the life of me I can’t see how it fits into the picture unless it goes on a vest.”

“All right, tell me about the vest,” Drake said.

Mason said, “It’s like the old phoney jewelry store bad-check racket, Paul, where the con man traps the jeweler into ordering his arrest over the weekend.”

“Who’s the victim?”

“Otto Olney.”

“Not on that painting deal,” Drake said. “I read about that in the evening papers.”

“It’s that painting deal,” Mason said.

“What’s the matter, Perry, is the painting phoney?”

“No, the painting is absolutely genuine.”

“Well, then what does anyone have to worry about?”

“I’m not certain Olney can prove that Durant said it wasn’t genuine.”

“For heaven sakes, didn’t Olney tie that up before he started suit?” Drake asked. “He has a good firm of attorneys. I happen to know them, Warton, Warton, Cosgrove and Hollister.”

“Sure, they’re good,” Mason said, “and I’m the one that sewed up that angle for them. I had Della take an affidavit from this girl, Maxine Lindsay, to whom Durant made the statement.”

“You have the affidavit?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, what’s wrong?” Drake asked.

“I have an idea Maxine is planning to run out on us.”

“Well, how about getting in touch with her right now?” Drake asked. “We can call her at the number she left.”

“Not right now,” Mason said. “I’m going to see her, and I’d like to find out something about her before we see her.”

“Tell me the rest of it,” Drake said.

“Now here’s what happened. Durant got in touch with me tonight and put on an act. It was an act. I’m absolutely positive of that.”

“How do you know?” Drake asked.

There was a moment’s silence.

Drake turned to Della Street. “Did he trap him in some contradictory statement, Della?”

She shook her head and said, “Instinct.”

Drake grinned.

“Don’t grin,” Mason said. “I’ve cross-examined enough witnesses so I can tell when a man’s putting on an act. Durant got in touch with me and put on an act. It was something he’d carefully rehearsed. It was something that was an essential step in the particular type of bunco game the guy is pulling.

“Now then, if my hunch is correct, Maxine is calling me to tell me that something has happened that she can’t explain over the telephone, that she is leaving; that it’s an emergency in her personal life; that she’ll get in touch with me so I can call on her to testify when the proper time comes. Then she’ll disappear.”

“And you won’t be able to find her?”

“And I won’t be able to find her,” Mason said. “No one will be able to find her. Durant will be screaming his head off that his reputation has been damaged, his integrity as an art dealer has been assailed, his judgment has been questioned and all the rest of it, and will demand an immediate trial. Olney will find his witness is missing.

“Olney can prove that the painting is genuine, all right. There won’t be any question of that. But he won’t be able to prove that Durant said it wasn’t genuine.”

“So then Durant’s lawyers will suggest Olney decorate the mahogany in order to avoid a suit of slander?” Drake asked.

Mason nodded.

“So what do we do?” Drake asked.

Mason said, “Maxine wants to get in touch with me. Now, I’m going to manipulate things so that she has to get in touch with me at a certain place. That place will be Della Street’s apartment house. That’s a good place to begin because she’ll have to come there in a cab or in a car. She’ll either come alone or she’ll come with someone. She’ll probably come in her own car and alone.

“You can have half a dozen men spotted around the neighborhood. You can pick up her trail, and once you pick it up I don’t want you to drop it.

“What’s more, I want you to keep digging into the past of Maxine Lindsay. I want to find out all you can find out about her, and at the same time you can dig into the background of Collin Durant. Durant won’t have anything very flagrant in his background because he wouldn’t be in a position to stick his reputation on the line unless anything that was detrimental was pretty well covered up. The weak link in the chain will be Maxine.”

Drake said, “That’s going to cost a lot of money.”

“I know it’s going to cost a lot of money,” Mason said. “It’s going to cost a lot of money no matter which way the cat jumps. I have a definite feeling there’s something phoney about this whole thing. You can imagine the position I’ll be in if the word gets around that Perry Mason was played for a sucker.”

“Where do you fit into the picture?”

“I fit into the picture because Lattimer Rankin, the dealer who sold Otto Olney the picture in the first place, was the one who was primarily damaged by Collin Durant’s sneering remark.”

“And how did he know about it?”

“Maxine Lindsay told him.”

“And why did she tell him?”

“Because he’s been befriending her. She’s been trying to get started as a photographic portrait painter and Rankin had been helping her. She was grateful to him and—”

“Oh-oh,” Drake said. “I begin to get the picture. It does look a little fishy.”

“Everything is there, every element,” Mason said. “Confidentially, Paul, Rankin came to me and wanted me to file suit against Durant, I told him that was the foolish way of doing it, that he should get Olney to file the suit, that this would put Durant behind the eight ball and force him out of business.”

“Rankin wanted him forced out of business?”

“I didn’t read his mind and wouldn’t tell you if I had. Durant is a fourflusher and isn’t doing the game any good. I told Rankin he couldn’t afford to mix his reputation up in it; that he should play it so the whole case hinged on the picture itself. So Rankin went to Olney, Olney got his attorneys, the attorneys called me and there you are.”

“And I take it you told Olney’s lawyers that they had to have everything sewed up?”

“Hell, I didn’t need to tell them,” Mason said. “They’re lawyers. They knew what had to be done. They got art experts to appraise the painting. They relied on me to get the affidavit that would show Durant had made the statement that it was phoney.”

“Well,” Drake said thoughtfully, “it’s a damned good vest button and it may fit on a vest. How do we start finding out?

“First,” Mason said, “you get your men lined up. Then I’ll put in a call for Maxine at the number she left... Take a look at that number, Della, then skip down to the office and consult your notes. You have her apartment number. See if it’s her apartment and—”

“No,” Della Street said, “it isn’t her apartment, I know that. The exchange is different.”

“Okay,” Mason said, “let’s call her.”

“Now?” Drake asked.

“Now,” Mason said. “I think having her meet me at a place where we can put shadows on her will solve the problem. I’m willing to bet that after she sees us she makes tracks to Durant... Paul, you get on one extension, Della gets on the other and I’ll talk with her while you’re listening and making notes.”

“We can do better than that,” Drake said. “I’ll switch in on a recording.”

Mason grinned and said, “You’d be too legitimate about it, Paul. You’d have a beep on it.”

Drake shook his head. “I’m ethical, Perry, but I’m not that ethical.”

“All right,” Mason said, “go ahead and record the conversation. Della, you dial the number. Paul, get your recorder running. What phone do I take, Paul?”

Drake said, “Della dials on this phone, I listen on this one, and when she gets the party you pick up that phone, Perry. Now Della, remember that we don’t want her to have an idea it’s an extension phone so you say, ‘Just a minute, Miss Lindsay, I’ll put Mr. Mason on.’ Then you say something in a low voice into the receiver which makes it sound as if you’re talking to Perry, such as, ‘Here she is, Chief,’ or something of that sort.”

Della Street nodded, picked up the phone. “All ready?” she asked.

Drake threw a switch under the desk, said to Della Street, “Press that button for an outside line. I’m all ready.”

Drake gave one final word of caution. “Now remember,” he said, “don’t anybody cough, don’t breathe so she can hear you over the telephone. If she hears three persons breathing she’ll get wise. Everybody keep absolutely quiet except the one who’s doing the talking.

“Go ahead, Della.”

Della Street’s nimble, trained fingers whirled the dial of the telephone. When the whirling dial had come to rest there was a moment while the phone could be heard ringing, then a thin, frightened voice said, “Hello?”

“Miss Lindsay?” Della Street asked.

“Yes, yes,” the voice said. “Who is this? Is this Miss Street?”

“That’s right,” Della said. “You wanted to talk with Mr. Mason. He’s right here, I’ll put him on.”

“Oh yes, yes, please,” she said.

Della Street turned her head, spoke in a low voice and said, “Here she is. She’s on the line, Chief.”

Mason waited half a second, then said, “Yes? Hello. Hello, Miss Lindsay, this is Perry Mason.”

“Oh, Mr. Mason, I’m so glad you called. I just had to get in touch with you and I didn’t know what to do.”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Mason asked.

“I’m in terrible trouble, Mr. Mason. It’s something private. It’s something I can’t confide in anyone, but I’m going to have to... well, I’m going to have to leave and I didn’t want Mr. Rankin to suffer because of — well, you know — so I thought it was only fair to tell you.”

Mason said, “Now, wait a minute, Maxine. You can’t just walk out of the picture like this.”

“I’ll be back,” she said. “I’ll keep in touch with you but right now something terrible has happened and I — well, I just can’t be around, that’s all.”

Mason caught Paul Drake’s eye and winked.

“Where are you calling from, Maxine?” he asked.

“I’m not calling. You’re calling me.”

“I know,” Mason said, “but where are you? We’re calling you back. This is the number you left. Is it your apartment?”

“It’s— You can’t try to trace me, Mr. Mason. No one must know where I’m going.”

Mason said patiently, “I’m just asking where you are now, Maxine, because I’d like to see if there’s any possibility of seeing you personally.”

“I’m... I’m in a telephone booth at the bus terminal. I’ve been waiting here for what seems interminable hours.”

“You’re not at your apartment?”

“No, no, no.”

“Can I meet you at your apartment later on?”

“No, no. I’m not going back to my apartment, Mr. Mason. I can’t... I can’t explain. It’s— No, I won’t be back at my apartment.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Now look. I want you to do one thing for me. That is, it’s not for me, it’s for Mr. Rankin. You know Rankin has befriended you and I think you are human enough to feel at least a certain amount of gratitude toward him.”

“I do.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Now, I’ve been out with Miss Street. We’ve been working on a case and we went to dinner and did a little dancing and I’m taking her home now... Do you have a car?”

“Yes. I have my car near here.”

“All right,” Mason told her. “I want you to meet us at Miss Street’s apartment house. Now that will be private enough so no one will be looking for you there in case you want to keep out of sight, and you can leave your car parked with the dome light on. Miss Street and I will drive up and we can at least talk things over. You owe that much to Lattimer Rankin.”

She hesitated a moment, then said in a thin, threadlike voice, “Yes, I guess I do.”

“You’ll be there?” Mason asked.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the Crittmore Apartments on West Selig Avenue. We’ll be there in about... Well now, let’s see... It will take me about forty-five minutes to get there. Will you be there and wait for us?”

“Well... yes, I guess so.”

“Now look, Maxine,” Mason said. “It’s terribly important. You be there, will you?”

“Yes,” she said, I’ll be there.”

“You won’t take a powder and run out on us?”

“No, Mr. Mason. If I say I’ll do a thing, I’ll do it.”

“All right,” Mason told her, “that’s a good girl. Remember, Lattimer Rankin has done a lot for you and you can’t go away and leave him holding the sack.”

“Oh, I... I do wish I–I’ll be there, Mr. Mason. I’ll try to tell you about it.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “Forty-five minutes.”

“Forty-five minutes,” she said, and hung up.

The three receivers in Drake’s office clicked simultaneously.

“Well,” Mason said, “what do you think of the button and the vest now, Paul?”

“Damn it, I don’t know how you do it,” Drake said. “I guess it’s some kind of extrasensory perception, but you certainly called the turn.”

Della Street said, “I’ve seen you pull these things often enough, Chief, so I should have known, but this time I’ll admit even I was a little skeptical.”

“You were plenty skeptical,” Mason said. “Damn it, I want to pace the floor... Get on the phone, Paul, get your men going and have them down there.”

“Will my operatives need any more of a description than the one I have?” Drake asked.

Della Street said, “She’s blonde with blue eyes, plenty of curves and—”

“Hell’s bells,” Mason interrupted, “you don’t need to know what she looks like, Paul. If she’s there, she’ll be in a car with a dome light on, and Della Street and I will drive up and stop and talk with her. Your men can have us spotted and when she drives away they can follow her. If she isn’t there, that’s all there is to it.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Drake said. “Okay, get the hell out of here so I can start getting men on the job. I’ll have the neighborhood of the Crittmore Apartments crawling with operatives.”

“Get them fast,” Mason said. “Come on, Della, it will only take us twenty-five minutes to drive out there. Well have to give Paul time enough to get his men on the job. That’ll give me a few minutes to think.”

Mason held the door of Drake’s office open, and Della Street hurried ahead of him, opened the wicket gate, smiled at the night exchange operator and then held the outer door open as Perry Mason, taking a latchkey from his pocket, hurried down the corridor to his own office.

Once inside, the lawyer switched the light on and began pacing the floor.

Della Street, her eyes on her wrist watch, said, “Are you going to let her skip out, Chief?”

“Of course I am,” Mason said. “That’s why I want Drake’s men to tail her. I want to know where she goes and what she does.”

“If she’s in on the fraud, could you have her arrested and—”

“And get in the same spot the jeweler gets in?” Mason said smiling. “No, Della. I’m just going to ride along for a while and see what it’s all about.”

“It looks to me as though you know pretty well what it’s all about right now.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Mason said. “All I know is that Durant was putting on an act, and now that Maxine has picked up her cards and is playing them according to the old formula, I feel my suspicions were justified. I’m not going any farther than that right at the moment.”

The lawyer resumed a rhythmic pacing of the floor, his thumbs hooked in his belt, his head thrust slightly forward.

Della Street, knowing that at such times he concentrated to the best advantage, sat watching him, keeping silent and from time to time glancing at her wrist watch.

“The thing all fits into a perfect formula,” Mason said at length, “so darned perfect that it’s almost a classic example.”

Since he had addressed the remark to no one in particular and obviously did not expect a reply, Della Street said nothing.

The lawyer kept on pacing.

“You can see the position I’d have been in,” he said. “I can just see the headlines now. MILLIONAIRE SUED BY ART DEALER FOR HALF MILLION DOLLARS... Olney’s attorneys wouldn’t want to take the blame. Hollister would say that I had put them up to filing the suit... Word would get around in legal circles, and everyone would be chortling at the idea of Perry Mason, the smart criminal lawyer, being played for a sucker by a couple of bunco artists.”

“Just what do you intend to do now?” Della Street asked. “Surely you’ve got to take some steps to protect yourself.”

Mason paused and said, “The best protection is a counter-offensive, Della. I want to wait until they’re ready to start their punch and then beat them to it... What time is it?”

“You have another five minutes,” she said.

“I don’t need it,” Mason told her, grinning. “I think I’ve got it doped out now, Della. Come on, let’s go.”

“Well,” Della Street said, turning out the lights, “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Mason chuckled. “In fact, Della, I think I’ve got it licked.”

Della Street squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Leave it to you to come out on top,” she said.

Mason put his arm around her, patted her shoulder, and together they walked down the corridor.

“Shall I look in on Paul Drake and tell him we’re on our way?” Della Street asked.

Mason hesitated a moment, then said, “No. Probably Paul won’t need the information. He’s working, getting his men spotted. That’s going to keep him tied up and his telephone tied up. He’s expecting us to be out there.”

“And when we get there you’re going to try to stall things along as much as possible?” Della Street asked.

“When I get there,” Mason said, “we’ll just play it by ear. Come on, let’s go.”

Mason drove cautiously along the city streets to West Selig Avenue, then turned and slowed his speed.

“Keep an eye open, Della. Look for a car with the dome light on.”

“You don’t know what kind of a car she drives?” Della Street asked.

“No. Probably one of the lighter makes and one of the older models.”

“There’s a car with someone sitting in it,” Della Street said.

“A man,” Mason said. “Don’t look. That’ll be one of Drake’s operatives. Keep your eye peeled for a car with the dome light on.”

“Here we are,” Della Street said. “Up ahead, on the left.”

“Okay,” Mason said. “We’ll try double parking for a minute. That will give Drake’s men an opportunity they can’t miss.”

Mason slid his car alongside the car occupied by Maxine Lindsay.

“Hello, Maxine,” the lawyer said.

She gave them a wan smile. “Hello.”

Mason said, “Move over to the steering wheel so you can listen from this side, Della. Put down your window. I’ll leave the door open on her car.”

Mason got out from behind the steering wheel, and Della Street promptly slid over into the position the lawyer had vacated.

The lawyer opened the door of Maxine’s car, said, “Thanks a lot for coming down here, Maxine. I was afraid you were nervous and upset and might not show up.”

She became conscious of her skirt well up above her knees as the lawyer opened the door. She made a token gesture of pulling it down an inch or two, said, “I’ve been waiting here for more than ten minutes. Some man drove past and seemed... well, he’s driven past twice.”

“Someone looking for a parking place probably,” Mason said, “or looking for a date to come out of the apartment house. Now tell me, Maxine, what’s the trouble?”

She said, “I— Mr. Mason, I can’t give you the details. Something terrible has happened and I have to go away.”

“All right,” Mason said, “you’re going away. Where are you going?”

“I... I don’t know — I can’t tell — not even you.”

“But,” Mason said, “you must remember you’re a witness in a lawsuit.”

“I know. I understand. I gave you an affidavit. You can use that if you have to.”

“I can’t use an affidavit,” Mason said. “The law provides that a person has a right to cross-examine the witnesses called against him, and if you’re going to testify against Durant, his attorneys have a right to cross-examine you.”

“That’s... that’s—”

“That’s what?” Mason asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“So,” Mason told her, “you have to be here.”

“I... I can’t... not for a while anyway.”

“All right,” Mason said, “why can’t you be here?”

“I can’t tell you... It’s— No, Mr. Mason, it’s just too... too terrible.

“Now please, Mr. Mason, I just can’t wait any longer. I’m in trouble and—

“Miss Street, would you do something for me?”

Della Street called across from the car, “What is it, Maxine?”

“My apartment,” Maxine said. “I had to leave my canary. I’m not going to be back for — well, quite a while and I didn’t have anyone I could leave the canary with. I put out feed and water to last it through tomorrow. Would you take the key to my apartment, go up tomorrow, get the bird and take it to some good pet shop that will take care of it?”

“Perhaps I could take care of it,” Della Street said, glancing significantly at Perry Mason.

“Oh, would you? Would you? That would be wonderful! If I knew that my little bird had a home with someone who appreciated him, someone—”

“How long do you expect to be gone?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll be back but I can’t tell you when. I wish I knew myself. I... Mr. Mason, I simply have to go. Can’t you understand? I wouldn’t have called you at all if I had wanted to just run out on you. I’d have gone quietly and you wouldn’t have known anything about it until you started to look for me to be a witness.”

“That,” Mason admitted, “is what puzzles me.”

“Why does it puzzle you?”

“It isn’t in keeping with the rest of the picture.”

“The rest of what picture?”

“Oh, never mind,” Mason said. “We’ll work it out some way. Now, how are you going to know when I need you?”

“You just put a want ad in the paper, Mr. Mason. Just say ‘Case coming up for trial. I need my witnesses,’ and sign it with just the initial M. Then I’ll get in touch with you. But you’ll have to arrange things so that I can be brought into court and testify and then slip right out again and— Now, let’s not have any misunderstandings, Mr. Mason. I’ll testify to the things that are in that affidavit I signed, and that’s all. I don’t want to be questioned about anything else.”

“What do you mean, anything else?” Mason asked.

“Anything,” she said. “Anything at all... Now, I have to go, Mr. Mason. I simply have to. I can’t tell you any more but I’ve waited too long already.”

She handed the apartment key to Perry Mason. “Will you please pass this across to Miss Street?” she asked. “Thank you both — thank you a lot. I’m sorry things had to happen this way but I... I just can’t wait any longer.”

She gave Mason her hand. “Good-by, Mr. Mason.”

The lawyer hesitated a moment, then accepting her hand, said, “Good-by,” and eased himself out of the car. He closed the car door and almost instantly Maxine started the motor.

As soon as the headlights started pulling out from the curb, a car half a block ahead swung out into the center of the street. Another car turned the corner, the driver apparently searching for a parking place, crawling along at such a snail’s pace that he blocked traffic.

Maxine impatiently blared on the horn.

Another car coming from behind with a single masculine driver fell in behind Maxine’s car and that driver, too, impatiently blasted away on the horn.

The car that was blocking traffic moved off to one side, and the cars that had been blocked went speeding on in a cluster of red tail lights, all in a compact unit.

“Drake’s men?” Della Street asked.

“Drake’s men,” Mason said.

“Well, what do you make of it?”

Mason said, “I don’t know, Della. The lawyer in me tells me that Durant is a phoney. On the other hand, the lawyer in me tells me this girl is on the up-and-up and is actually in some real trouble, that she has a horror of letting anybody down, and that right now she intends to be present when that case is brought up for trial.”

“In other words, your intuition is headed in two different directions,” Della Street said smiling.

“Reaching two opposite conclusions,” Mason said. “A great deal will depend on where she goes and what she does.”

“You think Drake’s men will be able to follow her?”

“With a group of operatives like that,” Mason said, “they’ll follow her. The only difficulty is that she may know she’s being followed.”

“What about us?” Della Street asked. “Do we explore the apartment tonight?”

Mason shook his head. “That key,” he said, “could be a trap of some sort — and yet I just can’t believe that girl isn’t genuine. Anyhow, Miss Street, this is your apartment house and since we are here I’ll take you across to your apartment and see you safely home.”

“How very nice of you,” she said, “and what about the problem of my car, which is in the parking lot at the office building?”

“Under the circumstances,” Mason said, “I’m quite sure the Bureau of Internal Revenue will consider that a taxicab will be a perfectly legitimate deductible expense tomorrow morning.”

“And by that time,” Della Street asked, “you’ll know where Maxine spent the night?”

“If Paul Drake’s men are half as clever as they should be, we’ll know from time to time exactly where she is. Moreover, by tomorrow morning we should know something about her past, and by tomorrow afternoon we should have a pretty good line on the terrified Maxine Lindsay.”

“Do you want the key to her apartment?” Della Street asked.

“Heavens, no. Why should I have the key to Maxine’s apartment? It was given to you, Della, and in your possession it is a perfectly innocent case of keeping a canary. In my possession the situation might be a little difficult.”

“I don’t get it,” Della Street said.

“Let us suppose that when Maxine gets on the witness stand, in the event she ever does, some attorney cross-examines her and asks her casually and in parting, ‘Now, you read in the papers about the suit being filed by Otto Olney against Collin Durant?’ And she will say, ‘Yes, I did,’ and the lawyer will say, ‘And on that night did you see Perry Mason, who was present at the time Olney had a press conference?’ and she will say, ‘Yes, I did.’ And the lawyer will smirk and say, ‘And did you know, Miss Lindsay, that from that day on Mr. Perry Mason had a key to your apartment?’ Then he will smirk at the jury, bow and smile and say, ‘Thank you, that’s all, Miss Lindsay. I have no further questions.’ ”

“I see,” Della Street said. “Under the circumstances, I hang onto the key to Maxine’s apartment.”

“Very definitely,” Mason said. “You take a taxi to work in the morning, and now if you have no objection I’ll move my car into the parking place vacated by Maxine Lindsay and I will escort you to your apartment.”

“That,” Della Street announced, “is service. I welcome the suggestion. I would, however, like to know whether this is business or social.”

“It has been business to this point,” Mason said. “The final act of escorting you to your door is social.”

“And as such?” she asked.

“I believe,” Mason observed, “there is an almost universal custom of collecting a good-night kiss from a date, isn’t there?”

“I wouldn’t know, Mr. Mason,” Della said demurely.