Holcomb turned toward Stella Anderson and raised inquiring eyes.
Her glittering eyes were fastened in beady indignation on the cigar which Sergeant Holcomb returned to his lips.
“That right?” Sergeant Holcomb mumbled past the moist end of the soggy cigar.
“Yes,” she said, sniffing audibly.
“Okay,” Holcomb said to Perry Mason. “You’ve found out about the automobile accident, and that’s all you’re concerned with. Don’t let me detain you. I have business with Mrs. Anderson.”
Mason, moving toward the door, smiled at Stella Anderson and said, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet a woman who sees and remembers things as clearly as you do. So many witnesses are putty in the hands of an officer who wants them to swear to facts which will support his theory of the case.”
Holcomb cleared his throat ominously, but Perry Mason, smiling at Stella Anderson, slipped out of the door and walked rapidly across to Paul Drake’s car.
The detective was seated behind the steering wheel.
“Find out anything at Weyman’s?” Mason asked, sliding into the seat beside him.
Drake grinned and said, “I got thrown out on my ear.”