The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret

Chapter Twenty-Three

It was a little after five o’clock when Drake called Mason.

“Okay, Perry,” he said, “we’ve got action down here.”

“You’re at the wharf?”

“Yes.”

“How’s the weather?”

“It’s clear.”

“Cold?”

“Not as bad as it was when the fog was in.”

“What’s the action?”

“The sheriff, the district attorney, a couple of deputies and a diver.”

“What are they doing?”

“Just standing around, waiting for the diver... Oh, oh, here comes the diver now. He has something in his hand.”

“Can you see what it is?” Mason asked.

“No, the diver has motioned to the sheriff and the district attorney and he’s going ashore with it. He isn’t coming out here to the wharf.”

“Keep an eye on things,” Mason said. “Just hang onto the phone and let me know what’s happening.”

“All right. They’re in a huddle now,” Drake said, “and it’s quite a huddle... Here’s the diver going back. He’s swimming under water. You can get an idea of where he is by the air bubbles.”

“You don’t have any idea what it was he found?”

“No.”

“Couldn’t get any glimpse of it?”

“No.”

“Think it’s the purse?”

“Probably. It was right out there where the purse was — right where... Hey, wait a minute, Perry. He’s back again. There are two things. They’re positively jubilant. The district attorney is patting the diver on the back.”

Mason said, “Take off your coveralls and go to dinner, Paul. Your shift is over.”