“That should be a cinch,” Drake told him, “after the way I’m going to cooperate with the homicide squad.”
“On your way,” Mason told him. “Start cooperating.”
When Drake had left, Mason turned to face Della Street, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “You know, if you were a little boy and I were your mother, I’d make a rush for the jam closet... and find I’d got there too late. You, Mr. Perry Mason, have been up to mischief. Now, come over here and tell Mamma what it is.”
He pushed his hands down-deep in his trousers pockets. His eyes twinkled with enjoyment. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.
“How much of a surprise?”
“A humdinger of a surprise.”
“Tell me.”
“Our wallflower,” he said, “is a hibiscus in disguise.”
“A hibiscus!”
“Well, perhaps an orchid.”