“In the same hotel, but not living together.”
“How come?” Mason asked.
“Well, when you told me that she’d taken a powder on you and wasn’t in Yuma, we started checking airplanes. She’d been in Yuma all right, and probably mailed you the letter telling you she was going to the Border City Hotel, but after she did that, she went to the telegraph office and asked for messages for Mrs. J. B. Beems. She got a message. We don’t know what it was. Anyway, she took a plane for San Francisco as soon as she read the telegram. Barkler was waiting for her there.”
“They’re still there?” Mason asked.
“No,” Drake said. “That’s the bad part of it. The police located her about the same time my men did.”
“The same time,” Mason echoed.
“Uh-huh,” Drake said. “To me, Perry, it stinks. I think my telephone line has been tapped. It looks as though they’ve moved in on us. Every move we make is being watched.”
Mason’s face darkened. “By God,” he said, “I’ll bust those guys wide open!”
“I didn’t know my line was tapped. I’ve got the lowdown on yours,” Drake went on. “There was a stakeout where your telephone conversations were being recorded on dictaphone cylinders. We located the room. One of the men left there, and my operatives shadowed him. He’s a detective working under Homicide out of headquarters. You know what that means, Perry. They’re closing in on us.”
Mason said, “By God, they can’t pull that with me. I’ll find out who’s responsible for this and start turning on the heat. They...”