Before the man could answer, Mason said, “I don’t think that angle is particularly important, Paul. After all, it’s just a matter of someone asking a casual question. Good Lord, if we’re going to try to run down everyone who orders parrot food, we’ll be working on this thing for a year.” He turned to Gibbs with a smile and said, “It looked as though we were on the track of something, but the way it’s turning out now, I guess it doesn’t amount to much.”
He took Paul Drake’s arm and led him to the door. When they were out on the sidewalk, Drake said, “What was the idea, Perry? He might have given us a little more information.”
“Not much more,” Mason said, “and I don’t want to let him think we consider this as being too important. Later on he’s going to read his afternoon newspaper. Then, if he thinks we struck a hot trail, he’ll tell the police, and...”
“That’s right,” Drake interrupted. “I’d overlooked that.”
“What luck?” Della Street asked.
“Plenty,” Mason said, “but whether it’s good, bad, or indifferent is more than we know yet. Swing over to Main Street and run out until after you’ve passed Washington, then turn to the right on the next block. We’ll tell you where to stop.”
She touched two fingers of her right hand to the abbreviated rim of her tilted hat. “Aye, aye, sir,” she said, and started the car.
“We don’t want to try the library first?” Drake asked. “It’s probably nearer.”
“No,” Mason said. “A woman wouldn’t keep a parrot in a library. She’d keep it in her home.”
“Do you think she’s keeping a parrot?”