Sid Nye picked Mason up in front of the Mission Inn.
"What do you make of it, Sid?"
"It's a jam of some sort. Moose isn't one to lose his head in a situation of that kind. Evidently something's happened and he didn't dare say anything over the phone because the call probably went through the switchboard at the motel. He evidently wanted to use something that I'd understand and other people wouldn't. Moose is quite a character. He had a circus background and he knew I'd understand Hey Rube."
"That means a free-for-all fight?" Mason asked.
"Not exactly. It means that all the carnival people gather together against the outsiders. It may or may not mean a clem, but it means you start knocking anything or anybody out of your way and-well, it's just a good old rallying battle cry."
Nye was piloting the car with deft skill through the traffic.
"Then Dillard needs help?"
"He sure as hell does," Nye said. "It could be almost anything. It means he's in a hell of a jam and wants us to get there."
"Well," Mason said, "it suits me all right. I'm due to have a little talk with Harrison T. Boring as of now."
"It's a talk he'll like?" Nye asked, grinning.
Mason said, "It's a talk which will, I hope, give Mr. Boring an entirely new series of ideas and perhaps a complete change of environment."
Nye swung the car down a side street, suddenly slowed, said, "That's a police car in front of the place, Perry."
"What number is Dillard in?" Mason asked.
"Number 5."
"All right," Mason said, "drive right up to Number 5. if Dillard is in trouble, we'll be right there. If the police car is there for someone else, we'll pay no attention but go into Dillard's place."
Nye swung into the entrance of the motel, found a parking place, switched off headlights and ignition, looked to Mason for instructions.
"Right into Number 5," Mason said.
The lawyer and Nye converged on the door of Number5.
"Try the knob," Mason said in an undertone.
Nye was reaching for the knob when the door opened.
There were no lights on inside the unit. The big lumbering individual who hulked in the doorway said in a husky voice, "Come on in."
"No lights?" Nye asked.
"No lights," Dillard said, and closed the door behind them. "Don't stumble over anything. Your eyes'll get accustomed to the darkness in a minute. I'm sitting here at the window with the curtains parted so I can get a line on what's happening."
"What is happening?"
"I don't know. The police are there now, and the ambulance left just a few minutes ago."
"The ambulance?" Nye said.
"That's right. They took him away."
"Who? Boring?"
"Right."
Nye said, "You know Perry Mason, Moose."
"Sure," Moose said, his hand groping for Mason's in the dark. "How are you, Mr. Mason? Haven't seen you for a while."
Then he said, by way of explanation to Nye, "Mason got me out of a jam a while back."
"I know," Nye said. "Just wanted to be sure you recognized him in the dark. Now, what's been happening out here?"
"Plenty has been happening," Dillard said, "but what it's all about is more than I know. Boring was having a convention. All sorts of people coming and going. Then the girl showed up and left in a hurry and about ten minutes after she left the cops came. I wanted to keep casing the joint and didn't want to give a tip-off to the manager. I had a hell of a time getting anyone on the phone. Whatever was happening, it took their attention off the switchboard. Finally I managed to get them to answer.- You can't get an outside line on these phones unless they connect you.- I guess I was all of five minutes jiggling that hook up and down, putting the light on and off, waiting for someone to answer."
"All right," Nye said, "they answered. "Was there anything unusual? Did they apologize or make any explanation?"
"Not a word. Someone said, "Manager's office," and I said, "I want to get an outside line," and the manger said, "You can't dial a number from this phone. You have to give me the number and I connect you." So I gave them the number of the Tri-Counties and asked for you. I was pretty certain they were listening on the line. I could hear breathing. So I just told you, "Hey Rube," and hung up. I figured that would get you here as quick as anything and I didn't want to ask you to come rushing out because I knew you'd ask questions and if I started answering questions we'd have this unit. under surveillance and that might not be the thing you wanted."
"That's good thinking," Mason said. "What happened after that?"
"An ambulance came right after I hung up. They took him out on a stretcher."
"He isn't dead then," Mason said.
"It was an ambulance, not a meat wagon. I don't know what sort of a system they use here but I have an idea the ambulance means the guy's hurt."
"All right," Mason said, "let's find out what happened. Who came here?"
"I can't give you names," Dillard said. "I can give you one license number and some descriptions. That's all I have to go on at the present time."
"You were watching through the window?"
"Had the lights out and the curtains parted and a pair of eye-glass binoculars. Those have about a two and a half power magnification; and then I've got an eightpower binocular here that is a night glass. I use it on surveillance jobs of this sort."
"All right, what can you give us?" Mason asked.
"I can't give you too much without turning the light on so I can read my notes. I made the notes in the dark."
"Tell us what you can remember."
"First rattle out of the box," Dillard said, "there was this fellow who's been prowling around Bolero Beach; a slim, fast-moving guy with a mosquito beak for a nose."
"His name's Montrose Foster," Mason said. "He's the president, whatever that means, of Missing Heirs and Lost Estates, Inc. Boring was working for him until he suddenly quit his job, and Foster thinks Boring hit some pay dirt that he didn't want to share with anyone."
"Could be," Dillard said. "Anyway, this fellow came in around eight and he was there about fifteen minutes. I've got the times marked down."
"Now, you could see all of these people all right?" Mason asked.
"Sure. There was some daylight when this man you call Foster was here. And later on there's enough light here in the parking place so I could see people well enough to identify them."
"Okay," Mason said. "Then what happened?"
"Well, for about five minutes after this man Foster left there was nothing doing. I kept thinking our man would go out to dinner hut he didn't. He seemed to be waiting for someone or something. And then, around twenty minutes past eight, this kid driving a sports car showed up and boy, was he making time. He slammed that sports car into the entrance and wham! right up to Unit Number io. He jumped out and was inside all in one motion. it was getting dark then."
"Did he knock on the door?" Mason asked.
"He knocked."
"How old was this man?"
"Around twenty-two to twenty-three; somewhere in there; driving a high-powered foreign sports model. He parked it at such an angle I couldn't get the license number."
"On a guess," Mason said, "that was Marvin Harvey Palmer.
"All right, how long did he stay?"
"Somewhere around fifteen minutes. Then he left and a woman came in, a woman about forty, and boy, was she worked up! She went in the minute the kid went out. She was just as stately as you please, and she was in there nearly ten minutes. Then she came out, and that's when the man went in. Now, this man had been waiting. He'd seen the woman's car and recognized it, or had seen the woman or something; anyway, he'd parked his car down at the far end of the parking place here, then he'd seen the woman's car and he'd driven out, parked his car in the street someplace and walked in and hung around in the shadows down at the far end waiting for the woman to leave. He was a dignified guy wearing dark glasses. The minute the woman left he hot-footed it across to Unit 10, banged on the door and went in and was there about five minutes. He came out and things simmered down for about ten minutes and then this blonde came in and boy, was she a knockout… I got the license number on her car."
"Did you get a good look at her?" Mason asked.
"I'll say I got a good look at her. She parked the car and opened the door on the left-hand side and slid out from behind the steering wheel. Believe me she was in a hurry and she didn't care how she looked when she got out-she was just getting out.
"Unit 10 was on the other side of the car from her and when she opened the door and slid out she was coming right toward me. Her skirt just rolled up under her and- Boy, oh, boy, talk about legs!"
"Let's go a little higher than the legs," Mason said. "What about her face?"
"Around twenty-four or so; blonde, tall, and my God, what a figure! She really filled out her clothes."
"All right," Mason said, "this is important. Now, what time did she go in and how long was she in there?"
"She went in about ten minutes after the man left and she was in there, I guess, ten or fifteen minutes. And when she came out she was all excited. Boy, was she running! She made a dive for her car. This time she went in the door that was on the right-hand side and slid across the seat. She threw the car into reverse and whipped out of here in such a hurry that she forgot to turn her headlights on. I've got the time written down in my notebook."
"And after that?" Mason asked.
"After that, everything was quiet for a couple of minutes. Then the manager came down and pounded on the door and after a while opened the door and went in. Then she came out on the run and a few minutes after that the police came."
"All right," Mason said. "Now, let's get this straight. You have been watching this place ever since-what time?"
"Ever since the guy got in here, or right after he got in."
"You know every person who went into that motel. You saw everyone."
"Sure, I saw them."
"There's no back entrance?"
"Just the one door. That is, we may have to check it, but I'm sure there's just the one door because that's the way the places are laid out… and Sid was going to send someone in with some eats for me. -.. Boy, I'm famished!"
"Never mind that," Mason said. "This blonde was in there for how long?"
"About fifteen minutes."
"And she was the last one in?"
"That's right. This guy was hurt. If it was a fist fight, it was the man. If it was a shot or a stab, it could have been the girl-probably was, because she was the last one in."
Mason took Nye to one side, said in a low voice, "We'll peg the first man definitely as Montrose Foster. We'll peg the next man tentatively as Marvin Harvey Palmer, and the third visitor could have been Mrs. Winlock. Then the man with the dark glasses we can be pretty certain was George Winlock… What time did we leave the Winlock residence, Sid?"
"Right around eight-twenty-five," Nye said.
"And it's how far from the Winlock residence here?"
"Not over five minutes if you're driving in a hurry. Both the motel here and the Winlock residence are on the same side of town."
"All right," Mason said. "As soon as we left the place, George Winlock jumped in his automobile and drove here. He found his wife's car parked out in front.
"Now, if that second visitor was Marvin Harvey Palmer, he must have left the house to come out here a short time before we left the house. You told me a sports car left the place."
Nye said, "Would it be in order to ask if your interview with George Winlock exploded a bombshell?"
"It exploded a bombshell," Mason said.
"All right," Nye said, "the answer is simple. The room was bugged. The kid found out what was going on and wanted to beat everybody to the punch, so he came tearing out here."
"Then what happened?" Mason asked.
"Then the wife followed. She was ready to start at about the same time but she wanted to put on her face and take the shine off her nose.
"Her husband left immediately after we did. He drove out here and-well, that's it."
They moved over to join Dillard.
"Whatever happened," Dillard repeated, "is the result of what the blonde did."
"Now, wait a minute," Mason told him. "You're getting out of orbit, Dillard. The blonde in all probability is my client."
"Oh-oh," Dillard said.
"It's one thing for you to say what time she came and what time she left," Mason went on, "but it's quite another thing to have you making any big fat surmises as to what happened while she was in that cabin."
"I'm sorry," Dillard apologized, "I guess I spoke out of turn, but-well, the way I looked at it, there was no other way of figuring it."
"There may be another way of looking at it," Mason said. "Let's suppose that this young man tried to get something from Boring and got a little rough. He left Boring lying unconscious on the floor. The woman could have been the boy's mother. She went in and found the man lying on the floor, dying. She also found some weapon that tied the crime in with her son. She paused long enough to straighten certain things up, remove certain bits of evidence, including the weapon; then she took off.
"The man could have been her husband. He was waiting for her to come out so he could go in. He'd spotted her car as soon as he drove up."
"And the minute he spotted the car," Nye said, "he knew that the room in his house had been bugged and that his wife had been listening in on whatever conversation it was that you had with him."
"Well," Mason said, "let's suppose that the boy had hit Boring with the butt of a revolver, and that his mother found Boring unconscious and got out; then the husband, coming in as soon as his wife had left, found the man in a dying condition. He looked around just long enough to make certain his wife hadn't left any clues that would indicate she had been there-that meant he could have been the one who picked up the revolver-and then he got out."
Dillard asked, "Have you fellows got names to put on these tags of son, mother and husband?"
"We think we have," Mason said. "I'm talking in terms of tags instead of names because you're going to be a witness. If you haven't heard any names, it'll be that much better for you."
Dillard said, "You fellows figure it up any way you want to. All I know is that the blonde was the last one in the room. If she's your client, I'm not going to start guessing what she was doing in there for fifteen minutes, but you know what the police are going to think. You may sell your idea to a jury, but the police won't buy it. They'll feel that if she found the man lying on the floor badly injured or dying, she wouldn't have stuck around for fifteen minutes."
Nye said, "Let me ask you a straight question, Dillard. Do you ever lose pages out of your notebook?"
"Not in a murder case," Dillard said. "I've been in enough trouble."
"You have, for a fact," Mason told him.
"But," Dillard went on, "I don't have to tell all I know if I haven't anyone to tell it to."
"What do you mean?"
"I could be hard to find."
Mason thought things over and said, "I don't think that's the answer, Dillard."
"Well, what is the answer?" Dillard asked.
"I'll be darned if I know," Mason said, "but I've got to talk with my client before the police talk with her and before the police get wise to you."
"Well, you've got to move plenty fast," Dillard said, "because the police are going to get wise to me."
"How do you figure that out?"
"I checked in here right after Boring. I got the place across the parking lot where I could have a good view of his unit."
"You say you got it?" Mason asked.
"That's right."
"How did you get it?"
"I asked for it."
"Oh-oh," Nye said. "That is going to put the fat in the fire."
"Why did you ask for it?" Mason inquired.
"Because I didn't want to sit out there in my car. That's too damn conspicuous. I wanted a place where I could look across the parking place. I asked the manager what she had and she told me she had several vacancies and I asked for Number 5. I asked if it was vacant and she said it was and I said I wanted it."
"Did she ask you why?"
"She didn't ask anything but she looked me over a couple of times and once she begins to put two and two together, she's going to tell the police about me. They'll ask her if there was anything unusual and she'll say no, and then they'll ask her about other tenants and if anybody checked in about the same time that Boring did, or a little after he did, and then she'll remember me and then the police will start talking to me if I'm around. Or, if I'm not around, they'll check the registration card for the license number on the automobile, find it's in the name of Paul Drake, and then they'll want to see me."
Mason said to Nye, "I've got to go talk with my client right away. Dillard, you can sit here in the dark and I'll give you a ring if I need to."
"Remember one thing," Dillard told him. "If you should give me a ring after the police have asked questions of the manager, somebody will be listening in on the line."
Mason said, "I usually act on the assumption someone is listening in on the line."
"If I don't hear from you, then what?" Dillard asked.
"Get out as best you can," Mason said. "On second thought, it might be a good plan to get out of here right now. -.. You haven't had any supper?"
"That's right. They said a dame would bring me some sandwiches."
Nye snapped his fingers. "I've got to contact the agency and head her off. If she should come walking in here right now, it would cause trouble."
"Why not go get something to eat?" Mason asked Dillard. "There's no use keeping Unit io under surveillance now. The police will have it blocked off and probably will have a detective spending the night in there, just to see if any telephone calls come in."
"Okay," Dillard said, "I'll go to dinner."
"We'll go out together," Nye said. "I'll take Mason to the hotel and come back and get you."
"I have my car here, you know," Dillard said.
"Then we'll take both cars," Nye told him. "I'll take Mason to the hotel and I'll have to head off that woman operative with the sandwiches and coffee."
Mason nodded. "On our way, Sid."