Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Lucky Legs

"Yes," he said, "I got the signal as soon as I came in. That was particularly important. It was something I had to know, but I was afraid there might be some detectives in here and I didn't want you to tell me in front of them."

"Well," she said, "there's the signal that you told me to arrange. Marjorie Clune got a telephone call just about five minutes before she left Thelma Bell's apartment."

"Did Thelma Bell know who was on the other end of the wire?"

"No, she said that Marjorie stood and talked a few minutes and then said, 'I'll call you back within an hour, or words to that effect; that Marjorie didn't seem at all glad to have the telephone call. She was frowning when she hung up the receiver."

Perry Mason studied the curling smoke from the end of his cigarette with thoughtful eyes.

"How about Bradbury?" she asked. "Are you going to follow his instructions?"

"To hell with him," Perry Mason said. "I'm running this show."

The door of the law library swung noiselessly open. J.R. Bradbury strode into the office, his face white and drawn, his eyes cold and determined.

"You may think you're running this show," he said, "but I've got the whip hand. So, the little doublecrossing cheap tart had to twotime me, did she? She went to the bridal suite with Doray, did she? Damn them. I'll show them both!"

Mason regarded Bradbury with sober speculation.

"Were you listening at the keyhole," he asked, "or did you bring a chair up to the transom?"

"Just in case you're interested," Bradbury said in cold fury, "I was listening at the transom, which I'd previously opened so that I could hear."

Della Street turned from Bradbury to Perry Mason, her eyes indignant. She sucked in a rapid breath as though to speak; then, catching Mason's glance, remained silent.

Perry Mason lounged upon the corner of her desk easily, swinging his foot lazily back and forth.

"Looks as though we're going to have a showdown, Bradbury," he said.

Bradbury nodded. "Don't misunderstand me, Mason," he said. "You're a fighter; I've got a great deal of respect for you, but I'm a fighter, myself, and I don't think you have the proper respect for me." His voice was harsh, fiat and strained.

Perry Mason's eyes were steady, calm and patient.

"No, Bradbury," he said, "you're not a fighter; you're the type who takes advantage of another person's mistakes. You've got the banking type of mind. You sit on the sideline, watch, wait and pounce, when you think the time is ripe. I don't fight that way. I go barging out, making my own breaks and taking chances. You don't take any chances; you sit in a position of safety. You never risk your own skin."

There was a swift change of expression in Bradbury's eyes.

"Don't you ever think I don't risk my own skin," he said. "I take plenty of risks, but I'm smooth enough to always cover them."

Perry Mason's eyes were patient and contemplative.

"You're partially right at that, Bradbury," he said. "Perhaps I should amend my original statement."

"All this isn't getting us anywhere, Mason," Bradbury told him. "I thought you and I understood each other perfectly. I'm accustomed to my own way. I get it by hook or by crook, but I get it. A lot of people hate me; a lot of them think I use unfair tactics, but every one has to admit that when I say I'm going to do a thing I do it."

Della Street glanced from one man to the other.

Perry Mason smoked in silence.

"I told you," Bradbury said, "that I wanted Bob Doray to plead guilty."

"That isn't what you told me originally," Mason said.

"I've changed my mind, and, incidentally, my plans. It's what I'm telling you now," Bradbury said.

Mason pursed his lips thoughtfully, glanced at Della Street, then back to Bradbury.

"I would never have accepted the employment if I had known that was to have been one of the conditions, Bradbury," he said. "You remember that you forced me to represent Dr. Doray. I told you that if I represented him, I would represent him to the best of my ability; that I would put up a fight for him, and that his interests and the interests of Marjorie Clune would be the only things I would consider."

"I don't care what you told me," Bradbury said impatiently. "Time is getting short here. We've got to have some action, and…"

There was the sound of a man's weight lunging against the door of the outer office. The frosted glass showed the shadows of two men silhouetted against it. The knob rattled once more and then imperative knuckles pounded on the door.

Perry Mason nodded to Della Street.

"Open the door, Della," he told her.

Bradbury spoke swiftly.

"Let's not misunderstand each other Mason. I'm absolutely determined about this thing. You're working for me; you're going to follow my orders."

"I'm working," Perry Mason said, "for the best interests of my clients. I accepted the employment on the understanding that I was going to secure a complete vindication, and…"

He broke off as Della Street swung the door open.

Riker and Johnson pushed their way past her into the room.

"Well," said Riker, "we've got you at last."

"You boys looking for me?" asked Perry Mason.

Johnson laughed.

"Oh, no," he said with heavy sarcasm, "we weren't looking for you at all; we just wanted to see you about a little legal advice."

Riker motioned toward Bradbury.

"Who's this man?" he asked.

"A client," Perry Mason said.

"What's his business?"

"Why don't you ask him?" the lawyer replied. "It's confidential as far as I'm concerned."

Bradbury faced the two men and said nothing.

"They want you at headquarters for some questioning," Johnson remarked.

"It happens," Perry Mason observed, "that I've been out of the office for some little time and I've got quite a bit of business to attend to. I'm afraid I can't go to headquarters right now."

"We told you," Riker said, "that you were wanted at headquarters for questioning."

"Got a warrant?" Perry Mason asked.

"No," said Riker grimly, "but we can get one and it won't take very long."

"That's nice," Mason observed. "Go ahead and get one."

"Look here, Mason," Johnson said, "there's no use acting like a damn fool. You know we can take you down to headquarters. If you insist on a warrant, we'll get a warrant. If we get a warrant, there's going to be a prosecution. You're mixed up in this thing so that it looks as though you've laid yourself wide open on a felony rap. The chief is going to give you a break; he's going to let you explain before he presents the evidence to the Grand Jury. It's a break for you. If you can talk your way out of it, it suits us. We don't care one way or another. We were just sent here to bring you down."

"You boys said you wanted some legal advice," Perry Mason told them. "I guess, perhaps, you were right. Apparently you do. You can take me down to police headquarters when you've got a warrant for my arrest. You can't take me there before that."

"We can take you there right now as far as that's concerned," Johnson told him.

Perry Mason looked them over with a speculative and belligerent eye.

"Well," he said, "perhaps you can, and, again, perhaps you can't."

"Oh hell," Riker said, "go to the telephone and call police headquarters."

Perry Mason looked at the two detectives and laughed sarcastically.

"Come on, boys," he said, "let's cut the comedy. You're not talking with a dumb hick who doesn't know his rights; you're talking to a lawyer. If you folks had enough evidence to get out a warrant for my arrest, you'd have the warrant with you right now. You haven't got a warrant and you're not going to get one; not right away, anyhow. Perhaps the Grand Jury will mill the thing around and return an indictment, or you may find some one foolish enough to sign a complaint, but what you're trying to do is to get me on the defensive so you can inquire into a lot of my private affairs. I'm telling you you can't do it. There's the telephone. Go ahead and call police headquarters."