"The facts, I take it," Perry Mason said, "relating to the locked door."
"Correct."
"Well, you're plain enough," Mason told him.
He grinned reassuringly at Della Street.
"Don't worry, Della," he said, "I've been in worse jams than this before."
"But," she said hotly, "how can he —?"
Mason frowned and shook his head.
"Della," he said, "the weather is delightful."
"Yes?" she asked.
"And," said Perry Mason, "whenever you discuss any subject with Mr. Bradbury, I want it to be the subject of the weather. The weather is always a very engrossing subject of conversation. It is virtually inexhaustible. Please see that Bradbury confines himself to it."
"Don't worry," Bradbury said, with a sudden frank smile twisting his lips, "I fight a fighter, Mason. I don't pick on women. I couldn't help observing that your secretary was fully familiar with the point I was making as I made it. That would seem to indicate that —"
Perry Mason interrupted with firmly insistent tones.
"The weather, Mr Bradbury," he said, "is delightful for this time of year. It is unusually warm."
Bradbury nodded.
"And, as I was about to remark," he said, "I shall attempt to take no advantage of you because of anything Miss Street might say or do."
Perry Mason pulled open the door of the taxicab, climbed to the sidewalk, and cocked an appraising eye at the cloudless sky. Then he raised his hat.
"There is a chance," he said, "that it may cloud over this afternoon."
Bradbury started to say something, but the banging of the taxicab door cut off his sentence, and Perry Mason was striding down the side street back toward the avenue.
Chapter 13
Perry Mason took a taxicab to the airport. Within ten minutes, the young woman at the information desk in the office had placed him in touch with an aviator who was willing to charter a fast cabin plane by the hour. The lawyer sized up the aviator with eyes that showed approval. He pulled a wallet from his pocket, took out crisp, new bills, and handed them to the aviator.
"You're ready to go?"
"It'll take a very few minutes to get it warmed up," the aviator told him. "She's all ready—that is, all filled with gas and inspected."
"Let's go," Perry Mason said.
The aviator smiled.
"You haven't told me yet where you want to go to," he said.
"I'll tell you that while you're getting the plane warmed up," Mason told him.
They walked down the wide cement walk. A small, snubnosed cabin plane glistened in the sun.
"That's the job," said the aviator.
Perry Mason looked it over while two mechanics swung it into position, put blocks under the wheels, and started the motor warming up.
"There's a mail plane leaves here around midnight," Mason said. "I want to follow that mail plane."
The pilot stared at him.
"You'll never catch it. Why it's as far as —"
"I don't want to catch it, I want to follow it. Where's the first stop?"
"Summerville."
"How long will it take us to get there?"
"About an hour."
Perry Mason said, "That's our first stop. We may not go any farther. Again we may."
The pilot opened the door of the small cabin.
"Get in and sit down," he said. "You've been up before?"
Mason nodded.
"Don't get worried over air bumps," the pilot told him. "They don't amount to anything. The novice gets worried over them."
He made a circle about the plane, as Mason adjusted himself in the seat, then climbed in at the controls, pulled shut the door of the cabin, locked it into position, waved a hand to the mechanics. They pulled away the blocks of wood. The pilot opened the throttle, and the plane roared into motion.
During the ensuing hour, Perry Mason sat almost without motion, his eyes staring at the scenery with the same abstract speculative interest with which he sometimes regarded the smoke which curled upward from his cigarette.
Once or twice the aviator stole a puzzled glance at his preoccupied passenger, but it was not until the plane was over Summerville that he spoke.
"That's Summerville below," he said.
Perry Mason regarded the airport without interest, and only nodded his head slightly.
The pilot nosed the plane forward. It lost altitude rapidly. When the wheels were jolting on the ground, Perry Mason shouted to the pilot:
"Don't stop too close to the hangar."
The pilot cut the throttle down, and the plane droned into a stop. Two men came walking down the hard surface of the packed ground which served as a runway.
Perry Mason got out of the plane, strode to meet the men, looked them over with a swift glance, and said abruptly, "Was either of you men on duty when the mail plane got in—the one that arrives around one o'clock in the morning?"
"I was," said the taller of the two.
Mason motioned him to one side, and lowered his voice.
"I'm looking for a young woman," Perry Mason said, "who was a passenger on that plane. She's in the early twenties. Has very blue eyes, a slender, wellformed figure, and —"
"There wasn't any girl on the plane at all," the man said positively. "There were just two men. One of them got off, and one of them went straight through."
Perry Mason stared at the man with a frown creasing his forehead. His eyes contained a hard glitter which caused the mechanic to shift his own eyes momentarily.
"Describe those men, can you?" he asked.
"One of them was a fat fellow with a bald head. He was about fifty, I guess, and he was pretty well crocked. He had fishy eyes, and I don't remember much about him. He went on through. The fellow that got off was a young chap, wearing a blue serge suit. He had dark hair and black eyes. He asked if there was another plane that was due to arrive before morning. I told him there wasn't. He seemed a little undecided, and then he asked me how he could get to the Riverview Hotel."
Perry Mason's eyes shifted past the mechanic, focused themselves upon distance. He stood for a few seconds absorbed in thought. Then he pulled a five dollar bill from his pocket.
"I wonder," he said, "if you can get me a taxicab."
"There's one right this way," the man said.
Mason turned to the aviator.
"Check your plane over," he said, "get ready to go on from here."
"In which direction?" asked the aviator.
"I don't know," Mason told him. "Wait until I get back and I'll tell you."
He followed the mechanic to the taxicab.
"Riverview Hotel," Mason told the driver.
During the ride the lawyer sat back against the cushions, his eyes patient, steady and unseeing, paying no attention whatever to the buildings which flowed past on either side of the cab windows. When the cab drew up in front of the Riverview Hotel, Perry Mason paid the driver, entered the lobby and approached the clerk.
"I'm in rather a peculiar position," he told the clerk. "I was to meet a man here for a business conference. The man came in from the city on the plane that gets in at one twenty in the morning. I never was very much of a hand at remembering names, and I forgot to bring the correspondence concerning the deal. The sales manager will can me if he finds out about it. I wonder if you could help me out."
The clerk turned to the register.
"I think so," he said. "We rented a room about one thirty to a Mr. Charles B. Duncan."