Mason said, “You have men up there, Paul?”
“Have I got men up there!” Drake said wearily. “I’ll say I’ve got men up there. They’re spotted around at every telephone, phoning in such information as they’re able to pick up, and standing by for instructions.”
Mason said, “I want to try side roads, Paul. I want the places where a man could wander off the main highway. Do you know if Fleetwood knows the country at all?”
“He should,” Drake said. “It was up there that Allred and Fleetwood put through that mining deal there was trouble about, the one where they sold a controlling interest in the mine, then got the stockholders to believe there had been some skulduggery and...”
“I know all about that,” Mason said. “So that was up in this country, was it? And Fleetwood was Allred’s right-hand man at the time?”
“Yes.”
“Then he must be familiar with the country. All right. Cover every side road,” Mason ordered.
“The police theory,” Drake said, “is that Fleetwood started hitchhiking and is probably five hundred miles away by this time — unless he’s dead. There’s an idea on the part of some of the detectives that Fleetwood’s body will be found not over three or four hundred yards from the Snug-Rest Auto Court.”
“No chance that this thing was an accident?” Mason asked.
“You mean Allred?”
“Yes.”
“Hell, no. The thing was typical. The killer made the same mistake such people always make. In place of leaving the car in high gear the way it would have been if the thing had been accidental, the killer left the car in low gear. Whoever it was, stood on the running board, pointed the car for the precipice, pulled the hand throttle all the way out, and stepped off the running board. The car roared down the slope, hurtled off into space and undoubtedly made a beautiful crash seconds later.”
“Any bullet holes in the body?”
“No. Apparently he was killed by having been beaten over the head.”
“Or hitting his head when the car went over the grade?”
“Probably he was dead before that. The autopsy surgeon seems to think he was.”
“How long before?”
“The autopsy surgeon isn’t sticking his neck out, but I gather he wouldn’t be too much surprised if Allred had been dead for an hour or so before the car went over the grade.”
“When did they discover it?”
“Around three o’clock in the morning. The traffic officers went to the Snug-Rest Auto Court as soon as they found the door key to a cabin there in the car. With those telephone calls it didn’t take long to get the lead on that apartment at Las Olitas.”
“If Mrs. Allred had been planning murder,” Mason said, “she’d hardly have left as broad a clue as that!”
“You can’t tell,” Drake said. “My hunch is, Perry, that the police are right. Either Fleetwood is dead, or else he’s making tracks. My best guess is he’s on an airplane right this minute, or else dead as a herring.”
“That amnesia business may be a big thing,” Mason said. “He’s already laid the foundation for it. It’s what I’d do under those circumstances. Go ahead and cover the Springfield territory, every ranch, every house, Paul.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“And in case they should find him,” Mason said, “tell them not to tip their hand at all. Just beat it to a phone and let us know. That other detective agency still on the job, Paul?”
“I’ll say it is, but the boys evidently aren’t covering the local angles. They’re looking for Fleetwood the same places the police are.”
“That’s always a mistake,” Mason grinned. “Okay, Paul, get started.”
Drake left the office and Mason nodded to Della Street. “Let’s see what Dixon Keith wants, Della.”
Dixon Keith, an alert, square-shouldered chap in the late thirties, had dark, restless eyes, dark hair that was beginning to thin at the temples, and the quick springy steps of an athlete. His legs were short, but he had broad shoulders and a thick chest.
He wasted no time in coming to the point.
“Mason,” he said, “I guess you know about me.”
Mason nodded.
“I’m having a lawsuit with Bertrand Allred and George Jerome. They’re a couple of high-powered crooks who have been getting by with murder. I’ve found out a lot about them since I’ve engaged in a little business deal with them.”
“And you have a lawyer who is representing you?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you think it would be better for you to have your lawyer with you when you come here?”
Keith shook his head. “I can tell you what I want in a very few words, Mr. Mason. It’s purely a business proposition. It isn’t a legal matter at all. It’s straight business.”
“What is it?”
“You and I are both over twenty-one, Mr. Mason. We know that no one gets something for nothing. I want something. I’m prepared to give something.”
“What do you want, and what are you prepared to give,” Mason asked, “bearing in mind that my primary duty is to my client?”
“That’s right. You’re representing Mrs. Allred, and unless I miss my guess, she’s in a jam.”
“Indeed?” Mason said, raising his eyebrows.
Keith said, “Look, Mason, let’s not kid each other. You have your detective agency working on this case. I have my detective agency working on the case. You’ve got a damn good detective agency and I’ve got a damn good detective agency. I don’t know how much you know and you don’t know how much I know, but we wouldn’t be paying out good money for detectives unless we were getting something. Right?”
Mason smiled, “Right!”
“Bertrand Allred’s body was found in his wife’s car. The car was driven over a rocky precipice and was left in low gear — a dead giveaway. It’s a little difficult to do a job like that and leave the car in high gear, but it can be done.”
“You talk as though you’d tried it,” Mason said.
“I did a little experimenting,” Keith admitted, “in order to find out what a person would have to do to put a car over a slope like that. You can start it running in low gear, open the door, jump to the running board and get away pretty easy. But when you shift into high gear, then you have a problem on your hands. If there’s a steep enough slope for the car to run off the highway through the brush, the car gets to going pretty fast before you can bail out. The best way is to put the car into high gear, turn the ignition on, put on the emergency brake, then get out, take off the emergency brake and let the car start rolling. As the car gathers momentum, since it’s in gear it starts turning the motor, and that starts the engine running. Then if the hand throttle is on a little bit, the car really shoots ahead.”
“Too bad you couldn’t have told the murderer about that,” Mason said.
“It is, for a fact,” Keith admitted. “Leaving the car in low gear was a technical error. That means you’re going to have a little tougher job than you would have had otherwise.”
“Assuming that my client is a murderer.”
“Assuming that your client will be accused of murder,” Keith said. “You know it and I know it.”
Mason said, “You seem to have given this a good deal of thought.”
“This thing is going to concern me,” Keith admitted. “I have to find Robert Gregg Fleetwood.”
“I understand quite a few people are looking for him.”
“Let’s not beat around the bush, Mason. You want him because you think that if you find him and get a statement from him, you may get something that will help your client. I want him because if I find him and get a statement from him, I can win my lawsuit. Furthermore, I can straighten out a lot of things.