“How about his coupe?”
“The police figure he might have contacted some garage to come and move the car, and perhaps given an incorrect address. I understand they’ve covered every garage which has a tow car and still haven’t learned a thing.”
“Have they moved the wreck?”
“No. They’re leaving it there, hoping Packard may come back to it or send after it. If he shows up, they’ll grab him.”
Mason frowned thoughtfully at the telephone for several seconds, then said, “Come on in here, Paul. I have an idea I want to talk over with you.”
He hung up the receiver and indicated his desk with a sweeping gesture. “I’m sorry, Della, vacation’s over.”
“You aren’t going to stay in Shanghai?”
“No,” he told her. “We’ll have to let the boat sail without us, and come back on the clipper.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said, picking up the folders one at a time. “Listen, Chief, you aren’t going to back out on this vacation, are you?”
“No,” he told her with a grin, “we sail, as per schedule, if I can clean up this case of the lame canary. And that case begins to look more and more complicated, and our sailing that much more uncertain.”