She said, “Paul Drake wants you to call. Shall I get him?”
“Uh huh.”
She got Drake on the line. As Mason picked up the receiver, he heard Drake’s voice over the wire, saying hurriedly, “Listen, Perry. A girl went into the Contractor’s Journal with an answer to that ad you placed. From there she went to a beauty parlor and is getting herself all slicked up: shampoo, wave, manicure, massage. I’ve got a man staked out in front of the beauty parlor… Now, if you’d like to get a look at this baby first hand, we’ve got time to run down there and give her the once-over when she comes out.”
“Got your car downstairs, Paul?”
“Sure.”
“Okay,” Mason said. “I’ll meet you down in the parking lot. You do the driving. I’ll do the looking.”
He hung up the telephone, said to Della Street, “We’ve got a customer on that Contractor’s Journal ad… Probably the same girl who turned in the last ad. I’m going to go take a look at her.”
“Think she’s got the other half of that ten-thousand-dollar bill?” Della Street asked.
Mason grinned. “I’m getting so I think everyone has it. I’m on my way. If this girl turns out to be Byrl Gailord, we’ll know a lot more in an hour.”
Mason walked rapidly down the corridor, took the elevator, and found Paul Drake seated in his automobile, waiting in front of the entrance. Mason climbed in.