“At seven-forty-one, Serle comes in again. At eight-ten, a restaurant a couple of doors down the street sent up two dinners. The operative checked back and found that the order had been telephoned in to the restaurant right around five minutes to eight. Evidently, Serle and Conway had a little more stuff to talk over, and grabbed a quick dinner while they were doing it.”
“Why quick?” Mason asked.
“Because Serle was out again at eight-twenty-three. A waiter called for the dishes at ten-forty. Well, now, here’s where we pulled our boner. At ten-five a man went in who was a stranger to all the operatives. He was an oldish man, thin, white haired, and straight as a ramrod. He was dressed in blue serge, didn’t wear an overcoat, had black patent leather shoes, and was smoking a cigar.”
“How long did he stay?” Mason asked.
“Eleven minutes. He was out at ten-sixteen.”
“How did you pull a boner, Paul?”
Drake said, “Because I figure this guy was Alden Leeds.”
“You didn’t tell Phyllis Leeds that, did you?” Mason asked apprehensively.
“Hell, no,” Drake said. “It’s bad enough to pull a boner, without telling a client about it.”
Mason nodded thoughtfully.