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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At three o'clock in the morning Mason was awakened by the persistent ringing of his telephone.
Sleepily, he groped for the instrument, said "Hello," and heard Sid Nye's voice.
"Unlock your door. I'm coming up and don't want anyone to see me."
The co
The lawyer rolled out of bed, went to the parlor of the suite and unlocked the door.
A few minutes later Sid Nye slipped into the room.
"You're not going to like this," he warned.
"Shoot," Mason said.
"They caught Moose Dillard, evidently nabbed him several hours ago."
"What do you mean they caught him?"
"He was trying to make a getaway and they nabbed him."
"How come?"
"Well, the police wanted to make a check on persons in adjoining units in the motel to see if any of them had seen or heard anything unusual. They made a door-todoor canvass and everything checked out until they came to the door of Unit 5. Then they found no one home, the door unlocked, the key on the dresser, the bed hadn't been slept in and Dillard had left the drapes slightly parted and the chair in place where he had been sitting looking across at Unit 10 with a whole ash tray full of cigarette stubs on the floor."
"Keep talking," Mason said, as Nye hesitated.
"Well, of course, we hadn't figured they'd search the other units, but they did. The story was there just as plain as if Dillard had left a written statement of what he'd been doing. There was the chair by the window, the drapes slightly parted, the tray full of cigarette stubs giving an indication of how long he'd been watching."
Mason nodded.
"The police checked on the license number of Dillard's automobile, found out it was registered to Paul" Drake, alerted the California Highway Patrol giving them the license number of Dillard's automobile and a description of the driver. They also alerted the city police with a radio bulletin. As it happened, one of the city police picked up Dillard at a service station on the outskirts of town where he was gassing up."
"Then what happened?"
"Well, they checked on Dillard's driving license, his occupation, found he was a private detective, started asking him why he was so anxious to get out of town, and intimated that he might have a little more license trouble if he didn't co-operate.
"That was all Dillard needed. He'd been through the mill once and he didn't want any more beefs."
"So he spilled everything he knew?"
"Everything. He even took them to the place where we'd "lost" the notebook. It was still there lying by the curb. They nailed it. Of course, that showed Dia
"The bad thing is that Dillard insists Dia
"And I don't like it," Mason said. "She swears she wasn't."
"Time could pass pretty fast if she was looking for something," Nye said.
"Not that fast," Mason said, frowning. "There's no chance Moose Dillard could have been mistaken?"
"Hell, no. Not on a deal like that. Moose is a little siow thinking sometimes. He's quick-tempered and he makes mistakes, but as an operative he's tops. He knows what he's doing, he keeps notes, he's a good observer and you can depend on his data."
Mason was thoughtfully silent.
"It's a hell of a mess," Sid Nye said.
"It's tough," Mason admitted, "but we're going to have to face conditions as they are and not the way we'd like to have them. You can't argue with a fact.
"Why haven't they arrested Dia
"I don't know. Perhaps they're waiting for-"
The telephone rang.
Mason answered it.
Della Street said, "There's a policewoman here in the room and she has a warrant for Dia
"Let Dia
"I'll tell her," Della Street said.
"Stall along as much as you can, Della. I'll be down as soon as I can get some clothes on."
"Will do," she promised.
Mason started dressing, talking to Sid Nye as he hurried into his clothes.
"Sid, I want you to get out of town while the getting's good. You're not a witness to anything and therefore it won't be concealing evidence to have you hard to find. However, right at the moment I don't want the police inquiring into my activities after I came to Riverside."
"You don't want anyone to know you called on Winlock?"
Mason buttoned his shirt. "That's right, and I don't care about having the police know Winlock called on Boring… Will Dillard be able to tell them it was Winlock, his wife and stepson who called on Boring?"
"No. He doesn't have their license numbers or names. He has the general descriptions of two of the automobiles and descriptions of the people. The only license number he has is that on Dia
Mason fastened his belt. "And remember, in case you're questioned, you don't know who Boring's callers were. You've only surmised-and the same is true of me.
Mason hurried down to Della Street's room and a policewoman answered his knock.
"Good morning," Mason said. "I'm Perry Mason. I'm Dia
"Yes."
"I want to talk with her."
"She isn't dressed. I'm taking her into custody. You'll have to talk with her at headquarters."
Mason raised his voice. "I'll talk to her through the door. Say absolutely nothing, Dia
The door slammed in the lawyer's face.
Mason waited some ten minutes in the corridor until the policewoman, accompanied by Della Street and Dia
"Can you take it, Dia
Dia
The policewoman turned on him. "I don't want lawyers addressing my prisoner," she said. "If you want to consult with your client, you can come to the jail and do it in a regular ma
"What's wrong with this?" Mason asked.
"It's against my orders. If you persist I'll have to charge you with interfering with an arrest."
"Is it a crime," Mason asked, "to advise a client in the presence of an arresting officer, that if she once starts answering any questions the point at which she stops will be considered significant, but if she doesn't answer any questions at all on the advice of her counsel, and demands an immediate hearing, she is-"
"That will do," the policewoman said angrily. "You're talking to her."
"I'm talking to you."
"Well, your words are aimed at her. I'm going to ask you and Miss Street to leave now. That's an order."
Mason smiled. "My, but you're hard to get along with."
"I can be," she said angrily.
Dia
Mason bowed to the officer. "I accede to your wishes, Madam. Come on, Della."