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The Case of the Howling Dog :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 50 из 146Forbes."
"You mean the wife that was left behind in Santa Barbara?"
"Yes."
"I think I'm getting a line on her, Perry. I've had some reports that look hot. I think she's going to be turned up almost any minute. I've got men working on some live leads there."
"All right, put on more men. Do anything you can."
"I get you," drawled Drake. "Now tell me what's happened. What's the idea of all the commotion? You had your appointment with Foley at eight thirty. It's now eight thirtyeight, and you say you're telephoning from his house. Did you reach some understanding with him?"
"No."
"Well," said Drake, "what happened?"
"I think," Mason told him, "it will be better if you don't know anything about that until you've followed out my instructions."
"Okay," Drake said. "When will I see you?"
"I don't know. I've got some formalities to go through with. It may be some little time before you see me. But get the men who are watching the house, and keep them under cover. Lock them in your office, if you have to. Don't let any one interview them until I get there. Do you understand that?"
"Okay. I wish you'd tell me what it's all about."
"You'll find out later, but keep those men sewed up tight."
"I'll have 'em on ice," Drake promised.
Perry Mason hung up the 'phone, then dialed the number of police headquarters.
A bored masculine voice answered.
"Police headquarters?" asked Mason.
"Yes."
"All right, get this and get it straight.
"This is Perry Mason, attorney at law. I am talking from the house of Clinton Foley at 4889 Milpas Drive. I had an appointment with Mr. Foley at eight thirty this evening. I came to the house, and found the door ajar. I repeatedly rang the bell and no one answered. I walked into the corridor, came to the library and found Clinton Foley dead. He's been shot twice, or perhaps more than that, with an automatic, at close range."
The voice came over the wire with sudden crisp interest. "What's that number — 4889 Milpas Drive?"
"That's right."
"And what's your name?"
"Perry Mason."
"Perry Mason, the lawyer?"
"That's right."
"Who's with you, anybody?"
"No."
"Who else is in the house?"
"No one that I know of."
"Well, then, stay right there. Don't touch anything. Don't let any one in. If there's any one else in the house, make them stay there. We're sending the Homicide Squad right out.
"You mean the wife that was left behind in Santa Barbara?"
"Yes."
"I think I'm getting a line on her, Perry. I've had some reports that look hot. I think she's going to be turned up almost any minute. I've got men working on some live leads there."
"All right, put on more men. Do anything you can."
"I get you," drawled Drake. "Now tell me what's happened. What's the idea of all the commotion? You had your appointment with Foley at eight thirty. It's now eight thirtyeight, and you say you're telephoning from his house. Did you reach some understanding with him?"
"No."
"Well," said Drake, "what happened?"
"I think," Mason told him, "it will be better if you don't know anything about that until you've followed out my instructions."
"Okay," Drake said. "When will I see you?"
"I don't know. I've got some formalities to go through with. It may be some little time before you see me. But get the men who are watching the house, and keep them under cover. Lock them in your office, if you have to. Don't let any one interview them until I get there. Do you understand that?"
"Okay. I wish you'd tell me what it's all about."
"You'll find out later, but keep those men sewed up tight."
"I'll have 'em on ice," Drake promised.
Perry Mason hung up the 'phone, then dialed the number of police headquarters.
A bored masculine voice answered.
"Police headquarters?" asked Mason.
"Yes."
"All right, get this and get it straight.
"This is Perry Mason, attorney at law. I am talking from the house of Clinton Foley at 4889 Milpas Drive. I had an appointment with Mr. Foley at eight thirty this evening. I came to the house, and found the door ajar. I repeatedly rang the bell and no one answered. I walked into the corridor, came to the library and found Clinton Foley dead. He's been shot twice, or perhaps more than that, with an automatic, at close range."
The voice came over the wire with sudden crisp interest. "What's that number — 4889 Milpas Drive?"
"That's right."
"And what's your name?"
"Perry Mason."
"Perry Mason, the lawyer?"
"That's right."
"Who's with you, anybody?"
"No."
"Who else is in the house?"
"No one that I know of."
"Well, then, stay right there. Don't touch anything. Don't let any one in. If there's any one else in the house, make them stay there. We're sending the Homicide Squad right out.