Mason heard Drake’s footsteps in the corridor, saw that some light was filtering in through the half-open doorway. A moment later, Drake came back and said, “Okay, Perry, I notified Homicide.”
“Did you tell them I was here?” Mason asked.
“No, just told them about the body, and...”
He broke off as a voice from the corner of the room said, with startling clarity, “Calling car twenty-two. Proceed at once to ninety-one fifty-eight St. Rupert Boulevard. A private detective named Drake has just telephoned that the body of a murdered man is in the house. Probably the body is that of Austin Cullens. Proceed at once to the house. Hold for questioning anyone found on the premises. The homicide squad is on its way.”
The message was repeated. Drake asked, “Did you turn that radio on to police calls, Perry?”
Mason shook his head and said, “You didn’t need to tell them the name of the dead man, Paul.”
“They asked me about it,” Drake said, “asked me how I came to be here, and I told them I’d come to call on an Austin Cullens, accompanied by his lawyer.”
“Give them my name?” Mason asked.
“No. I just said, ‘his lawyer.’ ”
“That helps,” Mason observed sarcastically. “You didn’t need to tell them your life’s history, you know. Why didn’t you just say there was a corpse out here, and let it go at that?”