As Perry Mason entered his office, Della Street motioned toward the door which led to the outer offices and said, “Abner Dimmick, of Dimmick, Gray & Peabody, and a young assistant by the name of Rodney Cuff are waiting for you.”
Mason whistled.
“Why the whistle?” she inquired.
“Dimmick, Gray & Peabody are about the last word in legal aristocracy,” he told her. “They’re attorneys for some of the big banks. Their practice is mostly corporate and probate work. Now, what the devil do you suppose they want with me?”
“Perhaps it’s nothing important,” she said.
“Don’t fool yourself,” he told her. “Anytime Abner Dimmick makes a trip to my office, you can bet it’s important.”
“Do we show them in?”
“Right away,” Mason said, “and with all the little flourishes and fanfare of trumpets royalty is supposed to command.”
Halfway to the door, Della Street said, “You don’t suppose they represent the bank do you, Chief?”
“You mean the Second Fidelity Savings & Loan?”