Scudder swung to Drake. “You,” he said, “are on a spot. In some ways, I don’t blame you — Mason’s a client of yours. He gives you all of his business. You naturally want to protect him. But you have a living to make. They revoke the licenses of detectives who...”
“You can save it, Scudder,” Mason said grimly. “Drake isn’t going to talk. If you’d gone at this thing in a decent manner, we’d have been glad to answer questions. As it is, you can go jump in the lake.”
Scudder regarded Mason with sullen hostility. “Mason,” he said, “you’re all finished. You have a reputation for pulling fast stuff and getting away with it. This time you can’t do it. Other times, district attorneys have been willing to let things drop when you blew their cases up. This time I’m going through to a finish. I have all the evidence I need, and I’m going to get more.”
Mason lit a cigarette, and said tauntingly, “I thought you were a better lawyer than that, Scudder. You can’t make a case against me.”
“What do you mean?” Scudder demanded.
Mason said, “I’m a practicing lawyer. District attorneys don’t like me, but I have a good reputation with the public. How the hell are you going to get a jury to convict me on the testimony of an ex-convict?”
Scudder’s face was a mask. “You’re kidding yourself,” he said.
Mason went on, “Furthermore, a man can’t be convicted on the uncorroborated testimony of an accomplice. Turn that over in your mind and see where it leaves you-if you want to get technical.”
Scudder’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Mason in thoughtful appraisal. “So your accomplice was an ex-convict,” he charged.
Mason, instantly wary, said, “Now, wait a minute. Let’s not have any misunderstandings about this. I haven’t admitted having an accomplice, I’ve merely quoted some law.”