“Uh huh. Keep feeding stuff in to me as soon as you get it. If I’m not here, you can talk with Della. I’m going out and see a man.”
“About a dog?” Drake asked, grinning.
“About a canary.”
The detective frowned, “What’s the gag about the canary, Perry?”
“I don’t know. Tell me, Paul, why should a canary have a sore foot?”
“I’ll bite,” Drake countered. “Why should it?”
Mason motioned toward the door. “On your way,” he said. “You’re no help at all.”
The detective heaved an exaggerated sigh. “This,” he announced, “is a relief.”
“What is?” the lawyer asked.
“Because you didn’t want me to shadow the canary,” Drake said. “I was afraid you were going to turn him loose, ask me to get an airplane, a pair of binoculars, and submit a complete report on him from egg to cage.”