Mason smiled at him and said, “I don’t have the slightest idea, Paul, where Helen Monteith is.”
“My man reported that you picked her up out at Sabin’s residence, and that she and Della Street drove off in her car.”
Mason said, “I trust the man who made that report to you won’t do any talking to outsiders, Paul.”
“He won’t,” Drake said. “What are you going to do about having her before the Grand Jury in San Molinas, Perry?”
“I can’t get her there,” Mason said. “I don’t know where she is.”
“Della does.”
“I don’t know were Della is.”
“Well,” Drake told him, “it’s your funeral.”
“How about that wire tapping?” Mason asked. “What have you found out about it?”
“Not a darned thing,” Drake confessed. “And the more I dig into it, the less I know.”