Drake said, “My men have been busy, Perry. They’ve uncovered a drive-yours elf agency which rented a car to Della shortly before noon. She put up a fifty-dollar deposit and paid a week’s rent in advance. She used the name of D.M. Crenshaw.”
Mason said, “If your men have pulled a boner on this, Paul, I’ll—”
“They haven’t, Perry. They have a photograph of Della. The man who rented her the car identified it absolutely.”
“She was alone?” Mason asked.
“She was alone,” Drake said. “Come on, Perry, let’s go back to the hotel and get a night’s sleep. After all, you’ll have to be in court tomorrow, and by tomorrow you may know what it’s all about.”
Mason stared steadily at the detective for a moment, then turned on his heel. “All right, Paul,” he said, “let’s go.”
Chapter 14
Outside the courtroom windows, the sun was sparkling San Francisco’s buildings into clean brilliance. Within the courtroom, daylight waged a losing fight against the gloomy dignity of somber walls of dark mahogany. Electric lights flooded the room with subdued illumination. Not all of the chairs were filled. The thrill-hungry spectators who haunt courtrooms with eager ears, listening for salacious details, could hardly be bothered with a commonplace husband murder.
Perry Mason, lines etched deeply into his countenance, his slightly reddened eyes showing the effects of a sleepless night, said to Judge Sturtevant Romley, “We are ready on behalf of the defendant.”
“Very well,” Judge Romley announced. “Testimony in the preliminary hearing of The People of the State of California versus Anna Moar, also known as Ann Newberry, will be taken at this time pursuant to stipulation of Counsel. Call your first witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”