She nodded.
“All right,” Mason said, moving away from the telephone, “go ahead. But remember, no funny stuff or I’ll have the burglary detail on the job within ten seconds after you make the first phoney move.”
She dialed a number, said, “Let me speak to Mr. Rooney, please,” and then, after a moment, “Hello, Custer, this is Margie. Listen, Big Boy, I want you to come over here right away... It’s something I have to see you about... I can’t tell you what it is over the phone... No... no, it’s not that... I can’t tell you, but it’s important. Please come... How soon?... All right, just as fast as you can... Of course I do, sweetheart, you know that... All right, precious.”
She hung up the telephone and said, “It’ll be just a few minutes.”
Mason dropped into a chair, crossed his long legs in front of him. Drake, perched on the edge of a table. Marjory Trenton crossed to a chair, pulled her negligee together above her crossed knees, and said, “Well, it looks as though we have to wait.”
“Do you want to dress?” Mason asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not going to leave you men alone in this room, and I’m not going to have you standing in the bedroom while I dress. So we’ll wait just the way we are.”
Drake said, “How about a drink?”
“I think you men are detectives,” the girl charged.
“That’s no reason why you shouldn’t buy a drink, is it?” Mason asked.