“I don’t know,” Mason asked. “Why?”
“I should know what I’m up against.”
“Just how did you know about the witnesses?” Mason inquired—
Drake said, “I have a radio on my car which I keep tuned in to police calls. I’m not supposed to do it, but you know, in this racket you have to cut a corner once in a while.”
“Well,” Mason said impatiently, “what about it?”
“Five or six minutes ago,” Drake said, “a hurry-up police call came in for Car 19 to beat it to this office building and pick up two witnesses who were in the office of Perry Mason, the lawyer. The witnesses were to be brought to headquarters for questioning. They weren’t to be picked up until after they’d left the office.
“So I figured you had a couple of witnesses who could dynamite the case, that you’d telephoned Holcomb, and...”
“You figured wrong,” Mason interrupted. “Did they pick up the witnesses?”
“I guess so. I was on my way to the office when the call came in. When I was a couple of blocks down the street, a police radio car passed me coming away from the office building, and there were two people in the back seat. I couldn’t get a good look at them — couldn’t see them clearly enough to get their faces, but I gathered one of them was a man and the other was a woman.”
Della Street said, “Good Lord, Chief. Do you suppose Golding and...”