One of the officers moved forward. Mason motioned him back and said, “But there has to be someone for a fall-guy, Rooney.”
Rooney’s eyes, sullen and defiant, met Mason’s. “Moar could be the fall-guy.”
“And what do you suppose Moar would have to say to that?” Mason inquired.
“He won’t say anything,” Rooney said, “he’s dead. He was killed last night coming on the steamship to San Francisco from Honolulu.”
“Are you sure?” Mason asked.
Rooney said, “Of course I’m sure. Mr. Dail and his daughter were on the same ship. Celinda became suspicious of Carl Moar’s stepdaughter. She sent me a wireless asking me to find out all about a Belle Newberry who had graduated from the University of Southern California. I found out her mother was Ann Newberry, who had married Carl Moar.”
“And notified Celinda?” Mason asked.
“Yes,” Rooney said. “And then this morning Celinda telephoned me to tell me what had happened. Mrs. Moar murdered her husband last night. Now, we can fix this thing all up so there won’t be any publicity.”
Mason grinned. “No, we can’t, Rooney. And when you see Mr. Charles Whitmore Dail, you might tell him that Perry Mason asked you to remind him that chickens have a habit of coming home to roost. Come on, Paul, we have work to do.”