Mason got up. “I warned you not to make that guess, Paul. I try to keep you out in the clear and you jump right into the middle of the fire.”
Drake grinned. “I was in the frying pan, anyway,” he said.
Chapter 10
Della Street, humming a little tune as she opened the door to Mason’s private office, carrying the morning mail under her arm, stopped short with surprise, said, “Well, well, is this getting to be a habit?”
Mason grinned at her. “Come on over and sit down.”
She went back to close the door to the outer office. “What’s the idea?” she asked. “Been up all night?”
“No,” Mason said. “I got a few hours’ sleep. I guess that’s more than Drake did.”
“What happened?”
“A woman telephoned me about one o’clock in the morning, said she was Sarah Perlin, and she wanted to confess to the murder of R. E. Hocksley, wanted me to come at once to six-o-four East Hillgrade Avenue, said if she wasn’t there to wait until I saw a light, then open the back door and walk in. I took the precaution of telling Paul Drake to follow up in an hour if I didn’t telephone him everything was okay.”
“How did she get in touch with you?” Della Street asked.