Abruptly, Mason said, “Okay, Della. We stick in our stack of chips. If we hold the low hand, we’re wiped out.”
“Chief, why mix yourself into it?” she asked. “After all, Leeds is just a client, just the same as any other client. If they can prove him guilty, it’s not your fault. He undoubtedly lied when he said he left Milicant alive. Apparently, Milicant really is Hogarty, and the sister’s given you a double cross. You’re certainly not called on to do any great amount of worrying. Let them come clean with you. Sit back and simply act as a lawyer, presenting a case.”
Mason grinned. “I can’t,” he confessed.
“Why not, Chief?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s the way I’m built. Come on, Della. We’re going to put in a call.”
He took her elbow, piloted her into a drugstore, crossed to the public telephone, and dialed police headquarters. “Homicide Squad,” he said, and, after a moment, “Sergeant Holcomb, please... Hello, Sergeant? Okay, here’s a hot tip for you. Harold Leeds, a nephew of Alden Leeds, was in Milicant’s apartment the night of the murder. He saw his uncle leave the apartment, and go down the hall to the elevator. He entered the apartment right after his uncle, and found Milicant dead. Inez Colton, his girl friend, knows all about it. She skipped out after the murder because she didn’t want to be involved. She’s living under the name of Helen Reid at the Ellery Arms Apartments. Harold Leeds is there now.”
Sergeant Holcomb’s voice was excited. “You’re certain?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Perry Mason said. “I know the whole business.”
“Fine,” Sergeant Holcomb exclaimed. “If this tip proves on the up and up, you’ll get the thanks of the department. Who is this talking?”
Mason said, “You know me well, Sergeant. I’m a short, fat guy with whiskers. I usually wear a long, red coat with a big black belt.”