“Yes,” Mason told him. “What is it?”
“I’m from the Drake agency. The old woman and her son got in on the plane this afternoon. They came directly here. Another operative is tailing them. They’re inside now, and there’s a hell of a row going on.”
Mason looked across at the huge house silhouetted against the night sky, its windows glowing in subdued brilliance through the drapes.
“Well,” he said, grinning, “I may as well go on in and join the fight.”
The operative said, “The boss telephoned for us to be on the lookout for a car with license number 1V-1302. I saw you drive up and thought maybe that was the bus I was looking for.”
Mason said, “No, that’s probably Helen Monteith’s car. She lives in San Molinas, and she may come to the house here. I want to see her just as soon as we can...”
He broke off as a car swung around the corner, and headlights cast moving shadows along the street.
“I’ll see who this is,” the detective said. “Probably some more relatives coming in to join the family row.”
He walked around the rear of Mason’s machine, then came running back and said, “That’s the license number the boss told us to be on the lookout for. Do you want it?”
Mason’s answer was to start running for the place where the car was being backed into a vacant space at the curb. By the time the young woman who was driving it had switched off her headlights and stepped from the car, Mason was abreast of her.