“All right,” Mason said. “Keep me posted. ‘By.”
He hung up and gave Paul Drake a digest of what Phyllis Leeds had told him.
Drake shook his head. “We’re supposed to be working for Alden Leeds,” he said. “I have a hunch we aren’t actually helping him any.”
“Perhaps not,” Mason said.
“I think Leeds is going to be sore when he finds out about it.”
“I think he knows about it,” Mason said. “He’s been in circulation for a while, and he seems to get around pretty fast, once he starts moving. He hasn’t given any stop orders. Go to it, Paul. We’ll get all the information we can. Tell your Seattle agency to show some speed.”
“I’ve already told them,” Drake said, “and I’ll pick Emily up as she leaves the office. So long.”
He ambled out through the outer door, moving as casually as though he had all the time in the world.
Mason said to Della Street, “Show Emily Milicant in. When the bank sends up the second check, Della, rush it over to our handwriting expert. Dig up some genuine samples of Leeds’ handwriting.”
Della Street nodded and quietly withdrew.