“We don’t need one.”
“All right,” Mason said to Della Street, “you go up to the room and wait, Della. Paul can keep you company. I won’t be...”
“They’re coming right along,” Inspector Bodfish said.
“What grounds?”
“The same grounds.”
“All three of us?”
“All three of you.”
Mason yawned, “Let’s get it over with.”
Borge called a taxi. They drove silently, Mason, Della Street and Paul Drake in the back seat, Inspector Bodfish and Borge seated on the folded backs of the jump seats, facing the trio. The cab turned into Stockton Boulevard, ran several blocks, and stopped.
“The D.A. live here?” Mason inquired.