“You mean Dail’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, she’s dead. Rooney’s wife is very much alive. She rules Rooney with an iron hand. At home he’s nothing but a doormat. At the office he’s a dictator. You know the type.”
“Yes,” Mason said. “What have you got on him, anything?”
“He’s buying flowers for a blonde,” Drake said dejectedly. “That’s everything we can find out about him.”
“Who’s the blonde?”
“A Margie Trenton, who lives in apartment 14B, at 3618 Pinerow Drive. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not a thing,” Mason said. “She doesn’t fit into the picture anywhere, so far as I know.”
“Well, I put a man to work on her,” Drake said, “and got nowhere. Here’s a picture snapped with a candid camera.”
Mason looked at the enlargement printed on glossy paper. which the detective handed him, grinned and said, “I’ll say it’s candid! Where was this taken?”