The Case of the Caretakers Cat   ::   Гарднер Эрл Стенли

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"These damn cat cases," he said, "are more bother than they're worth. Let's go hunt up the district attorney."

"Sound as though he had a guilty conscience?" Drake asked.

Mason shrugged his shoulders. "My clients never have guilty consciences, Paul. And, after all, don't forget my real client is the cat."

Drake chuckled and said, "Sure, I understand, but just as a side line I sure would like to know where Ashton got that money… Listen, Perry, it's starting to rain. I'd prefer to use my car if we're going places."

Mason, thumbing through the telephone directory for the residence number of the district attorney, said, "Sorry, Paul, we're going places, but you won't have a chance to get your car—we'll be moving too fast… I'll get out my convertible. We can use that."

Drake groaned. "I was afraid of that. You drive like hell on wet roads."



Chapter 6

There was something suggestive of a huge bear about Hamilton Burger, the district attorney. He was broad of shoulders, thick of neck, and, when he moved, his arms had that peculiar swinging rhythm which speaks for a network of perfectly coordinated muscles rippling under the skin.

"You know, Mason," he said, "I'm anxious to cooperate with you whenever cooperation is possible. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again, that I've a horror of prosecuting an innocent man; but I'll also tell you that I don't like to have anyone use me for a cat'spaw."

Mason sat silent. Paul Drake, sprawled in a chair, his long legs thrust out in front of him, kept his glassy eyes fixed on the toes of his shoes, and managed to look bored.

Burger started pacing the floor, his manner nervous. He flung his head around in a half turn as a bear might sniff the wind, and said, "You're a good lawyer, Mason."

Perry Mason sat quiet.

Burger pivoted on his heel, started walking in the other direction. He said, flinging the words over his shoulder, "But you're a better detective than you are a lawyer. When you turn your mind to the solution of a crime, you ferret out the truth. That doesn't keep you from defending guilty clients."

Mason said nothing.

Burger took one more turn; then stopped abruptly, swung to face Mason, leveled his forefinger and said, "If the people in my office thought that I was going to act on information you had given me, they'd think you were making a cat'spaw of me."

"That," Mason retorted, "is the reason I came to you personally instead of going to your assistants.

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