“A Mr. and Mrs. Golding are in the outer office, and they’re mad.”
“Mr. William Golding, who runs the gambling joint known as The Golden Platter?” Mason asked.
“He didn’t say what his occupation was, but it seems you’ve served him with a subpoena to appear as a witness for the defense in the case of People vs. Sarah Breel, and he’s on the warpath.”
“And the woman?” Mason asked.
“She was served as Eva Tannis. And is she mad. She says her name is Eva Golding.”
“They didn’t show you a marriage certificate, did they?” Mason asked.
“No kidding, Chief,” she said. “They’re going to get tough.”
“Fine,” Mason said, pushing aside the pile of mail which he had been reading. “Bring them in, Della, and let them get tough.”
The woman came through the door first, head high, chin up, eyes flashing. Behind her, Bill Golding walked softly, his face an expressionless mask. Only his eyes, glinting with sullen fires, gave any indication of his feelings. “Sit down,” Mason invited. “Close the door, Della.”
Golding said, “What’s the idea of serving that damned subpoena on us?”