“And what do I do if they charge me with first-degree murder?” Conway asked.
“You put the matter in my hands,” Mason said.
Conway abruptly slid his car into the curb. “I can’t go any farther, Perry. I’m shaking like a leaf. I know now what’s happened. I know what it means. Even if they don’t convict me of murder, it will mean the end of Texas Global as far as I’m concerned. Proxies will be pouring in on Farrell like falling snowflakes.”
“Get yourself together,” Mason said. “Pull out and drive up as far as my car. I haven’t time to walk. Now, just remember one thing. If they bring you up and confront you with the murder weapon, and if they say they’re going to charge you with first-degree murder, demand that they bring the case to trial before this stockholders’ meeting. Insist that it’s a frame-up on account of the proxy fight and demand vindication.
“Okay, now, get yourself together and start driving!”
Chapter Eleven
It was nearly noon when Perry Mason parked his car near the Redfern Hotel.
He bought a paper, opened it and then walked rapidly to the door leading to the lobby.
As he pulled back the door, Mason held the paper in front of him as though engrossed in some article on the sporting page.
He walked at a leisurely, steady pace to the elevator.
“Seven,” Mason said, holding the paper so that he could see only the legs of the girl elevator operator, his face completely concealed from her by the paper.
The cage started upward.
Abruptly she asked, “Where’s your friend?”
“How’s that?” Mason asked.
“The one who was interested in my book.”
Mason lowered the newspaper, looked at the girl with interest. “Oh,” he said, “it’s you. What are you doing here?”
“Running the elevator.”
“So I see. Do you work twenty-four-hour shifts?”
“Eight-hour shifts. We switch shifts every two weeks. This is shift day. I started work at 5:00 a.m. and go off duty at one o’clock.”
“How did you recognize me?” Mason asked curiously.
“From your feet.”
Mason regarded his shoes thoughtfully. The elevator came to a stop at the seventh floor.
“What about my shoes?” Mason asked.
“Not your shoes. Your feet.”
“I thought you were interested in that book you were reading.”
“I was, but I notice people’s feet and... well, I noticed your friend. Where is he now?”
“He’s in his office — or he was the last. I saw of him.”
“Is he married?”
“Not him.”
She said, “I like him.”
“I’ll tell him,” Mason said.
“No, no, don’t do that! I didn’t mean it that way. I meant...”
Mason laughed as her voice trailed off into silence.
“All right,” Mason said, “what about my feet?”
“It’s the way you stand,” she said. “You keep your feet flat on the floor and evenly spaced like a man getting ready to slug somebody. Most people lounge around with their weight on first one foot and then the other or lean against the rail along the edge of the elevator. You stand balanced.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Mason said. “I’ll try to be more average after this.”
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Why not?”
She smiled at him. “You’re too distinctive the way you are.”
Mason regarded her thoughtfully. “But you fell for my friend,” he said.
“Who said I fell for him?”
“Didn’t you?”
She pouted a moment, then said, “Well, perhaps a little. You’re different. You’re inaccessible. But your friend is more... well, more available. Now, if you tell him any of this, I’m going to put scratch marks all over your face.”
“Can I tell him you’re interested?” Mason asked.
“No,” she said shortly.
“When did you quit last night?” Mason asked.
“Gosh, not only did I have to switch shifts this morning, but I had to work later last night because of the trouble. They wanted to question the other girls.”
“When you say the trouble, you’re referring to the murder?” Mason asked.
“Hush! We’re not supposed to even mention that word.”
The buzzer on the elevator sounded.
“Well, thank you,” Mason said, “I’ll tell my friend.”
She looked up at him impudently. “Where are you going?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here on the seventh floor?”
The buzzer rang again.
“You’d better get the elevator back down,” Mason said.
She laughed. “That’s what I mean by being inaccessible. You’ve been talking to me, not because you were interested in me, but because you don’t want me to know what room you’re going to. You were stalling around waiting for me to start down. All right, smartie, I said you were inaccessible. Go ahead.”
She slid the elevator door closed, and took the cage down.
Mason walked down to Room 728 and turned the knob.
The door swung open. A man who was seated in a straight-backed chair which had been tilted against the wall, his stocking feet on the bed, a cigarette in his mouth, looked up at Mason and nodded.
Mason kicked the door shut.
“You’re Drake’s man?” Mason asked.
The man said, “Hello,” tonelessly, cautiously.
Mason walked over to stand by the individual who got to his feet. “You know me. I don’t know you,” Mason said.
The operative opened his wallet and showed his identification papers. “How thoroughly have you gone over this place?” Mason asked.
“I’ve taken a look,” Inskip said. “It’s clean.”
“Let’s take another look,” Mason told him. “Got a flashlight?”
“In my bag there.”
Mason took the flashlight, bent over and carefully followed the edges of the worn carpet around the room. He gave careful inspection to the washstand in the bathroom.
“You sleep here?”
“I’m not supposed to sleep until I get an okay from Drake. He told me you were going to be in this morning. I was looking for you earlier. I didn’t want to go to sleep until after you’d been here. When you leave, I’ll put a ‘Don’t Disturb’ sign on the door and get eight hours’ shut-eye. However, I’ll be available in case anyone wants anything.”
Mason said, “On a check-out they’d make up the bed before they rented the room.”
“Sure!” the man said.
“Okay,” Mason told him. “Let’s take a look at the bed. You take that side, I’ll take this. Just take hold of the bottom sheet and lift the whole thing right off onto the floor. I want to look at the mattress.”
“Okay,” Inskip said, “you’re the boss.”
They lifted the sheets and blankets entirely off the bed.
Mason studied the mattress carefully.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” Inskip said, “but I heard that the bullet didn’t go clean through. Death was instantaneous and there wasn’t any bleeding except a little around the entrance wound. That was all absorbed by the sweater.”
“Well, there’s no harm in looking,” Mason said.
“You don’t think anything happened here in this room, do you?” Inskip asked.
“I don’t know,” Mason told him.
The lawyer moved the flashlight along the edge of the mattress.
“Give me a hand,” he said to Inskip. “Let’s turn this mattress over.”
They raised the mattress.
“Any stain on the mattress would have had to soak through the sheets, and bloodstained sheets would have been reported,” Inskip said.