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The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 14 из 149Just don’t tell the driver where to go. Let him drive around and you can pick any hotel that he drives by.”
Locke laughed. “Getting cautious, ain’t we?”
Perry Mason nodded.
Locke tapped on the glass. “We’ll get out here,” he said, “at the hotel.”
The cab driver looked at him with mild surprise but braked the car to a stop. Mason flipped him a fifty cent piece, and the two men walked into the lobby of the cheap hotel.
“How about the parlor?” asked Locke.
“Suits me,” said Mason.
They walked across the lobby, took the elevator to the mezzanine floor, walked past the manicurist’s room, and sat down in chairs that faced each other, with a smoking stand in between.
“All right,” said Locke, “you’re Perry Mason, an attorney. You’re representing somebody, and you want something. Shoot!”
Mason said: “I want something kept out of your paper.”
“Lots of people do,” said Locke. “What do you want out?”
Mason said: “Well, let’s discuss procedure first. Are you willing to talk a straight money proposition?”
Locke shook his head emphatically.
“We’re not a blackmailing sheet,” he said. “We sometimes extend favors to our advertisers.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Mason.
“That’s it,” said Locke.
“What would I advertise?” asked Mason.
Locke shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t care,” he said, “you don’t need to advertise anything, if you don’t want to. We sell you the space. That’s all.”
“I see,” said Mason.
“Okay. What is it you want?”
“There was a murder at the Beechwood Inn last night. That is, there was a shooting. I don’t know whether it was a murder or not. I understand that the man who was shot was trying to hold up the joint.”
Frank Locke turned his dispassionate milkchocolate eyes upon the attorney.
“Well?” he asked.
Mason continued: “I understand there’s some mystery about the thing. That is, the District Attorney is going to make quite an investigation.”
Locke said: “You still haven’t told me anything.”
“I’m telling you,” said Mason.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“Somebody told me,” continued Mason, “that the list of witnesses that was handed to the District Attorney might not be complete.”
Locke stared at him.
“Who do you represent?” he asked.
“A possible advertiser in your paper,” said Mason.
Locke laughed. “Getting cautious, ain’t we?”
Perry Mason nodded.
Locke tapped on the glass. “We’ll get out here,” he said, “at the hotel.”
The cab driver looked at him with mild surprise but braked the car to a stop. Mason flipped him a fifty cent piece, and the two men walked into the lobby of the cheap hotel.
“How about the parlor?” asked Locke.
“Suits me,” said Mason.
They walked across the lobby, took the elevator to the mezzanine floor, walked past the manicurist’s room, and sat down in chairs that faced each other, with a smoking stand in between.
“All right,” said Locke, “you’re Perry Mason, an attorney. You’re representing somebody, and you want something. Shoot!”
Mason said: “I want something kept out of your paper.”
“Lots of people do,” said Locke. “What do you want out?”
Mason said: “Well, let’s discuss procedure first. Are you willing to talk a straight money proposition?”
Locke shook his head emphatically.
“We’re not a blackmailing sheet,” he said. “We sometimes extend favors to our advertisers.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Mason.
“That’s it,” said Locke.
“What would I advertise?” asked Mason.
Locke shrugged his shoulders. “We don’t care,” he said, “you don’t need to advertise anything, if you don’t want to. We sell you the space. That’s all.”
“I see,” said Mason.
“Okay. What is it you want?”
“There was a murder at the Beechwood Inn last night. That is, there was a shooting. I don’t know whether it was a murder or not. I understand that the man who was shot was trying to hold up the joint.”
Frank Locke turned his dispassionate milkchocolate eyes upon the attorney.
“Well?” he asked.
Mason continued: “I understand there’s some mystery about the thing. That is, the District Attorney is going to make quite an investigation.”
Locke said: “You still haven’t told me anything.”
“I’m telling you,” said Mason.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“Somebody told me,” continued Mason, “that the list of witnesses that was handed to the District Attorney might not be complete.”
Locke stared at him.
“Who do you represent?” he asked.
“A possible advertiser in your paper,” said Mason.