“Everything under control?” she asked.
“Clicking like clockwork.”
“I’m on my way.”
Mason hung up the receiver and sat waiting. Within a few minutes the telephone rang, and the clerk said, “Your niece is here, Mr. Perry.”
The detective in the lobby was still reading his newspaper when Mason stepped from the elevator into the lobby. He gave the lawyer only a cursory glance.
The clerk said, “The garage is around the comer to the right and down the incline, Mr. Perry.”
“Thank you,” Mason said. “I’ll find it.”
Della Street tucked her arm through Mason’s. She was jaunty and chic in a sports outfit with her hat tilted at a saucy angle. “Hello, Uncle,” she said.
“Hello, darling.”
Della’s car was parked at the curb. “Take off that wire?” Mason asked.