Mason unlocked his car, started to get in, then stopped to stare in frowning concentration at the sidewalk. Abruptly he slammed the car door shut, and walked into an all-night restaurant where he found a telephone. He thumbed through the telephone directory, called a number and said, “I want to talk with Dr. Charles Gifford — tell him Perry Mason’s calling on a matter of the greatest importance.”
He heard steps receding from the telephone. A moment later, Dr. Gifford’s voice said, “Okay, Mason, what is it?”
Mason said, “A woman by the name of Sarah Breel, down at the ambulance receiving station at headquarters, broken leg, possible fracture of the skull, and internal injuries. She’s unconscious. The cops are laying for her. You know how they are. They don’t give a damn about the patient. All they want is information. They’ll start hammering questions at her as soon as she flickers an eyelid. Officially, I don’t appear as attorney, so I can’t enter into the picture. No one’s hired a private physician for her. I’m hiring you. You don’t need to tell anyone who’s paying the bill. Move in with a couple of special nurses. Move her, if she can be moved, to a private room in the best hospital in town. If she can’t be moved, see that she has the best accommodations money can buy. Keep nurses with her every minute of the time. Keep in touch with the nurses. The minute she becomes conscious, I want you on the job.”
“Any particular instructions?” Dr. Gifford asked, in a crisply professional voice.
“I don’t think I need to give any, do I?” Mason asked.
Dr. Gifford said, still in that swiftly efficient voice, “Without having seen her, Mason, I would say that she’s suffering from a nerve shock that as soon as she regains consciousness, it will be imperative to keep her quiet. That she can’t be questioned for several days without seriously jeopardizing her chances of recovery. I’d want her kept absolutely quiet, with no visitors.”
Mason said, “I think you’re a hell of a good doctor... If possible, get red-headed nurses.”
“Why the red-headed nurses?” Dr. Gifford asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Mason said, “only in case the dicks should start getting rough, it’s always nice to have a red-headed nurse on the job. You can’t bully a red-head.”
“I know a couple who’ll do fine,” Dr. Gifford told him. “One of them’s a red-head, the other’s a brunette. They’re competent professionally, and you can’t bully them. You know, Mason, people who are suffering from severe concussions have to be kept very quiet.”