JК
The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
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“But they’ll use it against me in my campaign.”
“Use what?” Mason inquired.
“My friendship with this woman.”
“I can’t help that,” Mason told him, “but I’m working on an out for you. The District Attorney isn’t going to let your name get mixed into the case unless he has to show a motive at the trial.”
Burke’s voice became more orotund.
“That,” he said, “was what I wanted to discuss with you. The District Attorney is very fair. Unless there’s a trial my name won’t be dragged into it. Now you might fix things so there wouldn’t be a trial.”
“How?” Mason asked.
“You could persuade her to plead guilty to second degree murder. You’re still acting as her attorney. The District Attorney would let you see her—on that understanding. I’ve talked with him.”
Mason snapped a swift reply. “Nothing doing!” he said. “I’m going to try to protect your interests, but I’ll do it my way. You keep under cover for a while.”
“There’d be a nice fee,” said Harrison Burke in a suave, oily voice, “five thousand in cash. Perhaps we could even make it a little more…”
Perry Mason slammed the receiver back on its hook.
The lawyer resumed his pacing of the floor. Fifteen or twenty minutes later the telephone rang.
Mason took down the receiver and heard Paul Drake’s voice. “I think we’ve got your man located. There’s a man named Harry Loring who is at the Belvedere Apartments. His wife left him about a week ago and is said to have gone to live with her mother. Do we want him?”
“You bet we want him,” Mason said, “and we want him quick! Can you go out there with me? I’ll probably want a witness.”
“Okay,” Drake said. “I’ve got a car here if you haven’t.”
“We’ll take two cars. We may need them.”
Chapter 18
Harry Loring was a thin, nervous individual, with a habit of blinking his eyes rapidly, and moistening his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue. He sat on a trunk which was strapped and shook his head at Paul Drake.
“No,” he said, “you’ve got the wrong party. I’m not married.”
Drake looked at Perry Mason. Mason gave a faint shrug to his shoulders, which Drake interpreted as a signal to him to do the talking.
“Did you ever know a Norma Veitch?” he asked.
“Never,” said Loring, darting his tongue to his lips.
“You’re moving out?” asked Drake.
“Yes,” Loring said.
“But they’ll use it against me in my campaign.”
“Use what?” Mason inquired.
“My friendship with this woman.”
“I can’t help that,” Mason told him, “but I’m working on an out for you. The District Attorney isn’t going to let your name get mixed into the case unless he has to show a motive at the trial.”
Burke’s voice became more orotund.
“That,” he said, “was what I wanted to discuss with you. The District Attorney is very fair. Unless there’s a trial my name won’t be dragged into it. Now you might fix things so there wouldn’t be a trial.”
“How?” Mason asked.
“You could persuade her to plead guilty to second degree murder. You’re still acting as her attorney. The District Attorney would let you see her—on that understanding. I’ve talked with him.”
Mason snapped a swift reply. “Nothing doing!” he said. “I’m going to try to protect your interests, but I’ll do it my way. You keep under cover for a while.”
“There’d be a nice fee,” said Harrison Burke in a suave, oily voice, “five thousand in cash. Perhaps we could even make it a little more…”
Perry Mason slammed the receiver back on its hook.
The lawyer resumed his pacing of the floor. Fifteen or twenty minutes later the telephone rang.
Mason took down the receiver and heard Paul Drake’s voice. “I think we’ve got your man located. There’s a man named Harry Loring who is at the Belvedere Apartments. His wife left him about a week ago and is said to have gone to live with her mother. Do we want him?”
“You bet we want him,” Mason said, “and we want him quick! Can you go out there with me? I’ll probably want a witness.”
“Okay,” Drake said. “I’ve got a car here if you haven’t.”
“We’ll take two cars. We may need them.”
Chapter 18
Harry Loring was a thin, nervous individual, with a habit of blinking his eyes rapidly, and moistening his lips nervously with the tip of his tongue. He sat on a trunk which was strapped and shook his head at Paul Drake.
“No,” he said, “you’ve got the wrong party. I’m not married.”
Drake looked at Perry Mason. Mason gave a faint shrug to his shoulders, which Drake interpreted as a signal to him to do the talking.
“Did you ever know a Norma Veitch?” he asked.
“Never,” said Loring, darting his tongue to his lips.
“You’re moving out?” asked Drake.
“Yes,” Loring said.