The detective glowered at Perry Mason.
"And we understand," he said, "that you received ten one thousand dollar bills that were stolen from the body of Edward Norton."
"Is that so?" said Mason.
"That's so," snapped the detective.
"Just where do you think those bills are?" asked the lawyer.
"We don't know, but we intend to find out," the detective told him.
"Well," said Mason, "it is a free country, or it used to be once. Go ahead and find out."
"When we do," said the detective, "you're likely to find yourself facing a charge of receiving stolen property."
"Well, you've only got three things to do," said Mason.
"What three things?" asked the detective.
"Prove that the money was stolen, prove that I received it, and prove that I knew it was stolen when I received it."
"You know it's stolen now."
"How do I know it's stolen?"
"Because I've told you it was. You're on notice."
"In the first place," said Mason, "I'm not admitting that I have any ten thousand dollars. In the second place, I wouldn't take your word for anything."
The detective turned to Mrs. Mayfield.
"Come along, ma'am," he said, "we'll handle this lawyer later."
"But I don't want to go," she said.
"It's orders, ma'am," he told her. "You won't be annoyed. We're simply going to keep you where you'll be safe until after we can get your testimony."
Perry Mason watched the pair depart from his private office. His rugged face was expressionless, but there was a glint of smouldering hostility in his patient eyes.
When the door of the outer office had closed, Perry Mason walked to his secretary's desk and said: "Della, I want you to ring up the STAR. Tell them who you are. They've got a reporter there named Harry Nevers. He knows who I am. Tell the city editor to have Nevers come and see me. I'll see that he gets some sensational news."
She reached for the telephone.
"You want me to tell that to the city editor?" she asked.
"Yes," he told her. "I want Nevers sent here right away."
"You don't want to talk with the editor?"
"No, he'd plug a rewrite man in on the line, listen to what I had to say, call it an interview, and let it go at that. I want you to tell them who you are, tell them to send Nevers over here for a hot yarn. They'll try to pump you about what it is. Tell them you don't know, and that I'm not available."
She nodded and lifted the receiver from the hook. Perry Mason walked back to his private office and closed the door.
Chapter 15
Harry Nevers was tall and thin, with eyes that looked at the world with a bored expression. His hair was in need of trimming, and his face had that oily appearance which comes to one who has gone long without sleep. He looked as though he had been up all night, and had, as a matter of fact, been up for two.
He walked into Perry Mason's office and perched himself on the arm of the big black leather chair.
"I'm going to give you a break," said Perry Mason, "and I want a favor."
Nevers spoke in a dull monotone of lowvoiced comment.
"Sure," he said. "I had that all figured out a long time ago. Where is she?"
"Where's who?" asked Mason.
"Frances Celane."
"Who wants to know?"
"I do."
"What's the big idea?"
Nevers yawned and slid back over the arm of the chair, so that he was seated crosswise in the chair.
"Hell," he said, "don't try to surprise me. That's been tried by experts. I doped out the play as soon as I got the call. There was nothing to it. Frances Celane had a nervous breakdown and was rushed to a sanitarium. Last night the District Attorney uncovered evidence which made him decide to put a first degree murder rap on her. She was secretly married to a chap named Gleason. They've picked up Gleason, and they're getting ready to go after Frances Celane.
"You're Frances Celane's attorney. You've got her under cover somewhere. It's a cover that's deep enough to keep her from walking into a trap until you're ready to have her surrender. But you can't keep her under cover when the newspapers broadcast that she's wanted for murder. You've got a doctor mixed up in it, and a hospital. They wouldn't stand for it, even if you wanted them to. So it's a cinch you've got to turn her up, and you just picked on me to get the news, because you wanted something. Now tell me what you want, and I'll tell you whether we'll make a trade."
Perry Mason frowned thoughtfully, and made little drumming noises with his fingertips on the edge of the desk.
"I don't know what I want, Harry," he said.
Harry Nevers shook his head lugubriously.
"With the hardboiled bunch I'm working for, brother, if you don't know what you want, you're never going to get it. If you're going to make a trade you've got to make a trade right now."
"Well," said Perry Mason slowly, "I can tell you generally what I want. Somewhere along the line I'm going to try to get two or three people back at the Norton residence, under conditions that were similar to those which existed at the time of the murder. I don't know just how I'm going to do it. Somewhere along the line I'm going to make a point about the fact that the Buick automobile, which was reported stolen, wasn't taken out of the garage. All I want you to do is to see that I get a reasonable amount of publicity on those two points."
"Wait a minute," said Nevers, speaking in that same dull monotone, "you said you were going to make a point that the Buick car hadn't been taken out of the garage. You mean that you're going to claim that it was taken out, but the speedometer was either disconnected or set back, ain't that right?"
"No," Mason told him. "I'm going to make a point that it wasn't taken out of the garage."
For the first time since he had entered the office, the voice of Harry Nevers showed a trace of interest; a touch of tone.
"That's going to be a funny angle for you to play," he said.
"All right," said Mason, "we'll talk about that when the time comes. I'm just telling you now what I want. The question is, do we make a trade?"
"I think so," said Nevers.
"Have you got a photographer lined up?"
"Sure. He's down in the car waiting, and I've got a space held on the front page for a picture."
Perry Mason reached for the telephone on his desk, took down the receiver, and said to Della Street, in a low voice:
"Get Doctor Prayton on the line. Find out what sanitarium he put Frances Celane in. Get him to make out a discharge from the sanitarium, and telephone it over. Tell him that Frances Celane is going to be charged with murder, and I don't want him to get mixed up in it. Get the telephone number of the sanitarium, and after he's telephoned in the discharge, get Frances Celane on the line for me."
He hung up the telephone.
"Now listen," said Nevers earnestly, "would you do me a favor?"
"What is it?" asked Mason cautiously. "I thought I was doing you one. You're getting exclusive photographs and all that."
"Don't be so cagey," Nevers told him. "I was just asking an ordinary favor."
"What is it?"
Nevers straightened up slightly in the chair, and said in his low monotone: "Get that jane to show a little leg. This is a picture that's going to make the front page, and I want to have a lot of snap about it. Maybe we'll take a closeup of her face for the front page, with a leg picture on the inside page. But I want to take back some photographs that have got a little leg in them."
"Well," said Perry Mason, "why not tell her so? You can be frank with her."
"I'm going to be frank with her all right," said Nevers. "but you're her lawyer, and she'll have confidence in you; Sometimes we have a little trouble getting these janes to pose right when they're excited. I want you to see that I get a break."