Again Mason made signals. Drake asked tentatively, “Just where will that leave your client, Mason?”
“I don’t know,” Mason admitted. “It might be better for her to plead guilty, or put in a plea of self-defense. I don’t know. All in all, it’s a hell of a responsibility, representing a client who can’t tell you anything about what happened and whether she’s guilty or innocent. Good Lord, for all I know, she may be guilty. I think I’ll go talk with her and sound her out about how she feels about pleading guilty. I may be able to get the charge reduced to second-degree murder under the circumstances.”
Della Street interposed quickly, “I take it you don’t want the officers to have any idea of what you are planning.”
“Good Lord, no!” Mason said. “I’d let them think I was getting ready to fight the case, then I’d start trading with them at the last minute. I’d walk right up to trial just as though I intended to fight all the way through. I don’t dare to make any overtures now. They’d construe it as a sign of weakness and refuse to give me any sort of a break... The more I think of it, the more I think I’ll go down and see Mrs. Breel right now. You folks hold the fort, Della,” and Mason, clapping on his hat, shot out of the office, banging the door violently behind him.
When he had left, Della Street said to Paul Drake, “Well, I guess that’s all, Mr. Drake. I think if Mr. Mason had wanted you to do anything else, he’d have told you so.”
Drake said, “You take it then, Della, that we’re to do nothing?”
“Nothing except what the Chief has specifically instructed.”
“O.K.,” Drake said, “we’ll let it go at that.” And, with a last apprehensive glance at the dictaphone, he eased himself out into the corridor.
Chapter 13
Perry Mason entered the hospital room to find Sarah Breel propped up in bed. “Hello,” Mason said cheerfully. “How’s everything coming?”