“Yes.”
Mason said, “It may be important, Della. Don’t go home until we find out.” He pushed his way into his private office, picked up the receiver of his desk telephone and said in a low voice, “Okay, Paul, what is it?”
The slightly distorted sound of the detective’s voice showed the lawyer that Drake was holding his lips directly against the transmitter.
“Perry,” he said, “was this a run-around?”
“Was what a run-around?”
“About the divorce case.”
“No. What are you talking about?”
“I think,” Drake told him, “you’d better get out here right away.”
“Where’s ‘here’?”
“Out in front of Mrs. Stella Anderson’s place on Alsace Avenue. I’m talking from a drug store a couple of blocks away, but I’ll meet you where my car’s parked.”