Mason nodded, turned to Della Street and said, “Ring the Drake Detective Agency, Della. Ask Paul Drake to step in here.” Then to Rita Swaine, “I’ll get busy right away and see what can be done about that automobile accident. In the meantime, you tell your sister to come in and see me.”
“I don’t know just where Rossy is right now,” she said, “but as soon as I hear from her I’ll tell her to come in.”
“Where can I reach you?” Mason asked.
“I’ll be at my apartment.”
The lawyer glanced across at his secretary. “You have the address, Della?”
“Yes,” Della Street said. “What’s your telephone number, Miss Swaine?”
“Ordway six-naught-nine-two-two.”
Mason arose, crossed the office, and opened the corridor door.
“Isn’t there a retainer to be paid now?” Rita Swaine asked, opening her purse and pulling out a sheaf of currency.
“Now now,” Mason told her. “After all, you know, I asked for this... And you’d better put that money in the bank, young lady. Good Lord! You don’t carry sums like that around in your purse, do you?”