Mason handed her the newspaper. “Brush up on current events while we learn about parrots; and quit eating that peanut brittle. It’ll spoil your appetite for dinner.”
She chuckled. “I was getting along fine until you made me think of that candy; but you’re going to have to buy Paul and me dinner on the expense account, Chief, so my loss of appetite may be a blessing in disguise.”
They were grinning as they entered the pet store.
Arthur Gibbs was a thin, bald-headed individual with eyes the color of a faded blue shirt which had been left too long on the clothesline. “Hello,” he said in a calm, well-modulated voice. “I was just getting ready to close up. I’d about given you up.”
“This is Perry Mason,” Paul Drake introduced.
Mason extended his hand. Gibbs gave him a bony, long-fingered hand which seemed completely lacking in initiative. As Mason released it, he said, “I suppose you want to know about that parrot.”
Mason nodded.
“Well, it’s just like I told you,” Gibbs said to Paul Drake.
“Never mind what you told me,” Paul Drake said. “I want Mr. Mason to get it firsthand. Just go ahead and tell him about it.”
“Well, we sold this parrot on the...”