Dorcas spoke to Perry Mason.
"This isn't getting you anywhere, Perry," he said. "Foley's absolutely within his rights. You know that you brought Cartright here because you wanted to forestall any action for malicious prosecution. If Cartright made a full and complete disclosure of the facts to us, and was authorized to proceed, he acted within his rights. If he distorted or misstated the facts, he did not."
Mason laughed grimly.
"Trying to lay the foundation for a lawsuit, are you?" he asked Foley.
"I am not," Foley said.
"Well, I'm just telling you both something that you've forgotten," Mason remarked, "and that is that no warrant was issued and no complaint was filed. The deputy district attorney decided to write you a letter. That's about the size of it, isn't it, Dorcas?"
"Legally, yes," said Dorcas slowly. "But if it appears the man is insane, something should be done about it."
"All right," Mason said, "all of your ideas about the man's insanity are founded on the statement Foley has made, that the dog didn't howl, isn't that right?"
"Naturally, but Mr. Foley says he has witnesses to substantiate his statement."
"So he says," Mason went on doggedly, "and until you interview those witnesses, you don't know which one of them is crazy. Maybe it's Foley that's crazy."
Foley laughed, but the laugh was mechanical, and his eyes glinted.
"Well, then," Dorcas said, "as I understand it, you want us to investigate further before we do anything, is that right?"
"Naturally," said Mason. "You didn't go any farther on the word of my client, than to write a letter. If you want to write Mr. Cartright a letter, telling him that Mr. Foley says he's crazy, that's all right with me. But if you go ahead on the unsupported word of Mr. Foley, I'm going to stick up for the rights of my client."
Dorcas reached for his desk phone, took down the receiver, and said:
"Sheriff's office."
After a moment, he said: "Let me talk with Bill Pemberton… hello… Bill?… this is Pete Dorcas. Listen, we've got a dispute down here in the office, involving a couple of millionaires out on Milpas Drive. There's a question of a howling dog. One of them says the dog howls; the other one says he doesn't. One of them says the other man's crazy. Perry Mason is retained to represent one of them and demands an investigation. Can you go out there and settle the thing?"
There was a moment of silence, then Dorcas said: "All right, come down to the office right away."
He hung up the telephone and turned to look at Perry Mason with cold eyes.
"Now, then, Perry," he said, "you've started this thing. We're going to make an investigation. If it turns out your man is making false statements, and is mentally deranged we're going to go right through with a commitment, unless you want to find some relative and have the man committed privately."
"Now," said Mason, "you're commencing to talk sense. Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?"
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me that I could find a relative and get the man committed?"
"Well," said Dorcas, "he started the machinery of this office on a criminal matter which seems to have been entirely without foundation. Then Mr. Foley came in and impressed upon us the fact that his safety was being jeopardized…"
"Exactly," said Perry Mason, "that's what I was combating.
"There's no hard feelings, Pete, but I'm representing my client, and when I represent a client, I fight for him — to the last ditch if necessary."
Dorcas sighed and made a gesture with his hands, spreading them out, palm upward on the desk.
"That's one thing about you, Mason," he said, "nobody can ever say you don't represent a client. You're hard to get along with."
"Not when my clients get a square deal," Mason said.
"Your client will get a square deal here," Dorcas told him, "as long as I'm running things. Bill Pemberton is fair, and he's going out and make an investigation."
"I want to go with him," Mason stated.
"Can you go, Mr. Foley?" Dorcas asked.
"When?" asked Mr. Foley.
"Right away," said Mason. "The sooner, the better."
"Yes," said Foley slowly, "I can go."
A figure silhouetted against the frosted glass of the outer door, then the door pushed open, and a rawboned man, of fortyfive years of age, grinned goodnaturedly as he walked into the office.
"Hello, everybody," he said.
"Hello, Pemberton," Mason replied.
"Bill," said Dorcas, "shake hands with Mr. Foley. Mr. Foley is one of the parties to the controversy."
The deputy sheriff and Foley shook hands, and then Pemberton extended his hand to Mason.
"Great fight you made on that murder case, Mason," he said. "A nice piece of detective work. I want to compliment you on it."
"Thanks," Mason told him, shaking hands.
"What's this about?" Pemberton inquired of Dorcas.
"A howling dog," said the deputy district attorney, wearily.
"Making a lot of fuss over a howling dog, ain't you?" Pemberton asked. "Why not give him a piece of beefsteak and shut him up?"
"He's shut up already," Foley laughed. "That's the trouble."
"Foley will tell you the story on the way out," Dorcas said. "Foley represents one side of the controversy, and Perry represents the folks on the other side. It started out with a complaint over a howling dog, and now it's gone into a question of espionage, homicidal mania, and whatnot. Go on out and find out what it's all about. Talk with witnesses and then make a report to me. I'll take action, depending on what's disclosed by your report."
"Who are the witnesses?" Pemberton asked.
Foley held up his fingers and checked them off.
"To begin with," he said, "there's Cartright, who claims the dog howls, and Cartright's housekeeper. She may claim that she heard the dog howl, but if you'll talk with her, you'll find she's deaf as a post, and couldn't hear it thunder. Then there's my wife, who's been quite ill with influenza, but is getting better now. She's in bed, but she can talk with you. She knows the dog didn't howl. There's Ah Wong, my Chinese manservant, and Thelma Benton, my housekeeper. They can all tell you that the dog didn't howl. Then there's the dog himself."
"The dog going to tell me he didn't howl?" asked Pemberton, grinning.
"The dog can show you that he's quite contented, and that there isn't a howl in his system," smiled Foley, reaching in his pocket and taking out a leather cigar case. "How about a cigar?"
"Thanks," said Pemberton, taking a cigar.
"You?" asked Foley, extending the case to Mason.
"Thanks," said Mason, "I'll stick with my cigarettes."
"I've given this case a lot of time," said Dorcas, suggestively, "and…"
"Okay, Pete," Bill Pemberton boomed goodnaturedly, "we're on our way right now. Come on, fellows."
Chapter 4
As the sheriff's car swung into the curb, Bill Pemberton said: "Is that the house?"
"That's it," Foley answered, "but don't park here. Go on in the driveway. I'm putting an addition onto my garage, and the contractors have got things littered up here. They're finishing up this afternoon, and then I won't be troubled with them. It's been a nuisance."
"Whom do we talk with first?" asked Pemberton.
"You can suit yourself," Foley said with dignity, "but I think that after you have talked with my wife, you won't need to bother with any more witnesses."