“It’s too much risk.”
“It’ll bring me into contact with the murderer.”
“That’s just it. The murderer will choose the time and the place of making the contact. He may even shoot first, and look in your wallet afterwards.”
“There’s always the chance,” Mason admitted, “but he’d be more apt to make a stick-up of it. And I’ll be careful.”
She said, “Yes, I’ve got a picture of you being careful — and when the murderer finds your wallet without a fingerprint in it, what...”
Mason walked across the office to a bookcase. On the top of this bookcase was a choice example of Japanese pigeon-blood cloisonne. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, polished the vase, ran his right hand through his hair several times, then pressed three of his fingertips against the surface. He said to Della, “Take that down to Paul Drake’s office. Have him develop the latent fingerprints on it, and photograph them. Don’t tell him why we want them. I’ll carry a copy of that photograph in my wallet. Then in case anything slips, the murderer won’t get suspicious.”
“Chief, I wish you wouldn’t do it. There’s no need for you to take the risk personally. Why not say that you have them in your office safe?”
“No. We can’t guard the office without letting someone else in on it. I want to handle this myself.”
“Why?”
“Because it won’t look like a trap then. But if I try to decoy the murderer into some office and have that office guarded, it’s going to look very much like a trap. The person with whom we’re dealing is far too intelligent to walk into so obvious a trap.”