“Any idea what he’s after?”
“Apparently just trying to get a line on who comes to unit thirteen.”
“They think that’s the one he’s watching?”
“They can’t be certain but they think so. The other units are all occupied.”
“Have the men keep on the job,” Mason said. “Also send out another operative to tail Beckemeyer. When he quits he’ll probably go to a telephone to report. I’d like very much to find out what number he calls. It’ll be from a pay station and your man may be able to do something.”
“It’s pretty difficult to get those telephone numbers, but we’ll try.”
“Give it a try,” Mason said. “Now here’s something else. I’m working on a case involving a man by the name of Ed Davenport. He was supposed to have died in Crampton yesterday. The only trouble with that theory is that the corpse climbed out of a window and drove away.
“It becomes important to know where he was and what he did the night before his ‘death.’ Probably he was in Fresno. The police will be nosing around in a halfhearted sort of way. They’ll be looking for a registration of Edward Davenport. In all probability they won’t find a thing because he would have been using an assumed name.
“That motel at San Bernardino gives us a clue to his assumed name. It was probably Frank L. Stanton.
“That may give us a head start on the police. Have your correspondent in Fresno start tracing Frank L. Stanton. Put a dozen men on it if you have to. I want results and I want the thing kept completely confidential. Can do?”
“Can do,” she said. “We work with a good outfit at Fresno.”
“Okay,” Mason told her. “I’ll be in my office sometime around ten o’clock, but call me at my apartment if anything important develops.”
Mason shaved, had a drink of warm milk, stretched out on a davenport with the morning paper, covered himself with a blanket, read for ten or fifteen minutes, then dozed off into slumber, from which he was awakened by the sharp, insistent ringing of the telephone bell.
Since only Paul Drake and Della Street had the number of his unlisted private phone in the apartment, Mason grabbed for the receiver, said, “Hello.”
Paul Drake’s voice was sharply incisive.
“You’re usually waking me up out of a sound sleep, Perry. Now it’s your turn.”
“Shoot,” Mason said, “but I hope it’s important.”
“It is if you’re representing Myrna Davenport. My night operator said you were working on the Ed Davenport case.”
“What about it?”
“Myrna Davenport’s arrested and is being questioned about a murder.”
“Whose murder?”
“Two murders. Ed Davenport, her husband, and Hortense Paxton, her cousin.”
“How come?”
“A secret order of exhumation was made day before yesterday. The body of Hortense Paxton was disinterred. She was the niece of William C. Delano. She died a short time before he did, and—”
“Yes, yes,” Mason said. “I know all about that. Go on, what about it?”
“They found enough arsenic in the body to kill a horse. There seems to be no question that she died of arsenic poisoning, although a physician signed it out as a natural death.”
“And what about Mrs. Davenport?”
“Picked up for questioning on that murder and also on orders from Fresno for the murder of her husband.”
“Have they found his body?”
“The husband’s?”
“Yes.”
“Not yet, but they seem to have uncovered some new evidence up there. At first they thought a doctor had made a mistake. They gave him hell but he stuck by his guns and now he seems to have them pretty well convinced the man was murdered.”
“Then the body climbed out through a window and drove away,” Mason said. “That’s a pretty active corpse if you ask me.”
“Well, I don’t know all the details. I’m just telling you what I know.”
“Where is Mrs. Davenport?”
“Picked up by the local police, but she may have been flown to Fresno for questioning there.”
“Have you found out anything about Davenport’s last night in Fresno, where he stayed—probably under the name of Stanton?”
“Not yet. Perry, but we’re working on it. Now here’s the problem, Perry. Here’s where all this begins to get pretty close to you. You may lose a little hide over this one.”
“Shoot,” Mason said.
“Davenport, you know, had the business office of his mining company up in Paradise. So the police telephoned the sheriff of Butte County at Oroville and the sheriff went up to Paradise to make an investigation.”
“Then he found out that you had been up there last night, that you’d been in the place, apparently taking charge of things for the widow. There was an envelope that Davenport had left to be opened in the event of his death.
“The sheriff’s office opened the envelope. In it they found six sheets of blank paper. They submitted the envelope to an expert who states that the envelope had been steamed open within the last twenty-four hours and resealed with mucilage.
“You can figure out where that leaves you. I thought I’d wake you up and let you know because you may be in a position where you have to answer some embarrassing questions.”
“When?”
“As soon as they can locate you. This angle is hot as a stove lid. They think you found accusations that named your client as a poisoner and destroyed the original letter, substituting those blank sheets of paper.”
“Mrs. Davenport has been formally arrested?” Mason asked.
“That’s right.”
“What about Sara Ansel?”
“No charge against her. Della Street wanted me to tell you that she’s been haunting the office but Della has been holding her off—”
“Della?” Mason said. “Is she at the office?”
“Bright and early,” Drake said. “She opened up at nine o’clock.”
“The devil!” Mason exclaimed. “I told her to get some sleep. What time is it now?”
“Ten o’clock. Della thought you’d be wanting to sleep so she went up to open the office and filter things through so that you wouldn’t be disturbed except on a matter of urgency.”
“Does she know about this?”
“Not all of it,” Drake said. “I called you first. I’m going down the hall and tell her about it as soon as I hang up.”
Mason said, “Tell her I’ll be at the office within twenty or twenty-five minutes.”
“Provided the authorities don’t pick you up for questioning,” Drake reminded him.
“Tell her I’ll be up within twenty or twenty-five minutes,” Mason repeated and hung up.
Mason hurriedly dressed, left his apartment house by a back exit, and hurried to his office. He hesitated for a moment at the door of the Drake Detective Agency, then decided to see Della Street first and walked rapidly down the corridor. He fitted his latchkey to the door of his private office and went in.
Della Street saw him and placed a warning finger on her lips. She hurriedly closed the doors to the law library and the connecting office, then lowered her voice and said, “Chief, we have a bear by the tail.”
“How come?”
“Wait until you hear Sara Ansel’s story.”
“What about her?”
“She’s fit to be tied.”
“Why?”
“She’s suddenly found out that Myrna Davenport wasn’t the sweet, passive little thing she thought.”
“How did she find out?”