“Simply this, Paul; those telephone lines were tapped. You don’t think the gamblers did it. It doesn’t look as though the police did it. You think a private detective agency did it. It’s my guess a detective agency would think twice before it went in for wire-tapping.”
“Some of ’em would,” Drake said, “some of ’em wouldn’t. There are some chaps in this game who would do anything for money. However, I get your point, Perry, and you may be right. Remember this, that most of the wire-tapping these days is done by the police.”
“Why the police?” Mason asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Of course, they figure that laws don’t apply to them. You’d be surprised to know how extensively they do tap telephone lines and listen in on conversations. It’s almost a matter of investigative routine.”
“Well, it’s an interesting subject for speculation,” Mason agreed. “If the telephone lines were tapped by the police, Sergeant Holcomb must have known about it. And if that’s the case, the police must have records of the conversations which took place over that telephone... You check up on those divorce records first thing in the morning, Paul.”
“I’m going to,” Drake said. “I have two men waiting in Reno. They’re going through the records just as soon as they become available.”
They drove for several miles in thoughtful silence, until a sign announced the city limits of San Molinas.
“Want to go directly to Helen Monteith’s house?” Drake asked.
“Make certain we’re not being followed,” Mason said, sliding around in the seat so he could look through the back window.
“I’ve been checking pretty carefully on that,” Drake told him.