“The low-down,” Mason said.
Serle pushed back his plate. “I’ll have to call a party,” he said.
“Someone at the D.A.’s office?” Mason asked.
“No.”
“Who?”
“Just a party.”
“Go ahead and call,” Mason said.
Serle was closeted in the telephone booth for nearly ten minutes. “All right, Mason,” he said, returning to the table, “I have a free hand.”
Mason smiled. “So have I.”
Serle sat down. “Look here, Mason. Suppose I give you a break in this thing. What’s in it for me?”