“Just a second or two. She jumped out from the curb, ran right in front of my headlights, and then seemed incapable of doing anything. She just stood there. A lot of people stopped, and I made them inventory the contents of the bag. You see the fact that there was a gun lying on the...”
“A gun!” Mason exclaimed.
Sergeant Tremont took Diggers by the arm. “Come with me, Diggers,” he said. “I don’t think there’s any necessity for holding you any longer. And I’d just as soon you didn’t answer any more questions.”
Mason made for the door. “I’m going to see Mrs. Breel, Sergeant.”
The sergeant shook his head. “Oh, no, you’re not,” he announced.
“The devil I’m not!”
Sergeant Tremont grinned affably. “In the first place, Mason,” he said, “she’s in the care of a doctor who has prohibited visitors. In the second place, she’s under a police guard. In the third place, you’ve been very emphatic about stating that she wasn’t a client of yours, but merely a casual friend. Under the circumstances, you don’t see her.”
Mason thought for a moment, then reached for his hat. “Under the circumstances, Sergeant,” he admitted with a wry grin, “you win.”
Chapter 4
Paul Drake, head of the Drake Detective Agency, was tall, thin in stature, and perpetually pessimistic in outlook. His face was florid, his eyes regarded the world from behind a glassy film. But, by some quirk of the facial muscles, the corners of his lips turned up, giving him the appearance of continually smiling at life, whereas his actual outlook was exactly the opposite. Slumped down in the seat of Perry Mason’s automobile, his head drooping, a pendulous cigarette hanging from his lips, he straightened slightly as he saw the lawyer. walk around the car and open the door on the driver’s side. “What is it this time, Perry?” he asked. “Have they finally pinched you as an accessory?”