“Out at the Monadnock Hotel, registered as Mrs. Charles Peabody of New Orleans.”
“Okay,” Mason said, “Sew her up tight. Try and get a dictograph planted in her room. Plant operatives in the adjoining rooms, and keep your eye peeled for Mister Charles Peabody.”
“That,” Drake said with a grin, “has already been done.”
Mason said, “You know, Paul, that’s a professional trick, taping a man’s eyes and mouth.”
“I’ll say it is,” Drake agreed.
“I also noticed that Chennery seemed to know the ropes. As soon as I told him you were a detective, he wanted to know whether you were from headquarters. When he found out you weren’t, he started getting tough.” Drake nodded. “And,” Mason went on, “according to the homicide squad, the light fuse in Austin Cullens’ residence blew out because someone unscrewed a lamp globe, slipped a copper penny into the socket, and then screwed the light back. As soon as the lights were turned on, it blew the fuse. That’s also a professional trick.”
Drake nodded thoughtfully. “You have something there, Perry. Mrs. Breel would never have done that.”
Mason said, “A person who would short-circuit a fuse that way would be inclined to use adhesive tape on a man’s eyes and lips. There’s a certain similarity in the technique, Paul, an efficiency in obtaining maximum results with minimum effort.”
Drake said, “Therefore, I take it, Perry, you want my operative to make a complaint to the police and...”
“No,” Mason said, “I don’t. I’m simply mentioning the point for your own information, Paul — in case you meet up with Mr. Charles Peabody of New Orleans.”