The Case of the Howling Dog

"Suppose," she said, "that they tell me that would work against me? That is, isn't it supposed to be an admission of guilt for a person to make a statement like that? Not that I'm guilty of anything, but you seem to think that…"

"Please," he said, "don't argue with me. Have enough confidence in me to do as I tell you. Will you do that?"

She nodded.

"All right," he told her. "That's all, Drake. Come on." He turned, pulled open the door of the room, paused on the threshold to give her a parting instruction.

"When you check out of here," he said, "don't leave a back trail. Go to the depot and buy a ticket some place. Then switch redcap porters, pick up another taxicab and go to the place I told you and register under the name I told you. You got that straight?"

She nodded.

"All right," said Mason. "Come on, Paul."

The door banged behind them.

In the corridor Paul Drake looked at Perry Mason.

"You," he said, "may think that you're keeping on one side of the line, but it looks to me as though you've gone over.

"Think I've broken through the thin ice, Paul?" asked Perry Mason.

"Hell," said Paul Drake explosively, "you're in ice water up to your chin right now, and it's getting deeper."

"Stick around," Perry Mason told him, "you haven't seen anything yet. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to get me an actress, about twentyeight years old, about the same build as that woman, and have her at my office just as quick as you can get her there. She's going to make three hundred dollars for doing something, and I'm going to guarantee that it's going to be within the law. I don't want you to be there personally, and don't want you to know anything about it. I simply want you to get the actress and send her to me. I want you to get a girl who will do anything. You understand? Anything."

"How much time have I?" asked Paul Drake.

"You've got less than ten minutes, if you can do it in that time. I know you can't, but you've got to do it just as fast as you can. You've got a list of people that you can call on to do various jobs, and what you've got to do is to check over it, get the right person, and get in touch with her."

"I've got a girl," said Paul Drake slowly, "who might answer the description. She worked as a lure on the vice squad for a while, and knows her way around. She'd do anything."

"Is she light or dark?"

Paul Drake smiled slowly.

"She," he said, "is about the same build and complexion as Mrs. Bessie Forbes. That's the reason I thought of her."

"All right," Mason said, "don't get too damn smart, or it might not be so good. This is a case where you're going to be dumb. The dumber the better. Remember, I'm the one that's giving orders. You're just following them, and you don't know anything yet."

"I'm commencing to suspect a lot," Paul Drake said.

"Suspect all you want to, but don't tell me anything about it, and keep your thoughts to yourself, because you're going to want to forget them later on."

"Okay," said Drake, "You go on up to your office, and I'll get this girl to show up. Her name's Mae Sibley. You don't need to mince words with her."

"Okay," said Mason, "get started — and thanks, Paul."

Chapter 13

Mae Sibley was wellbuilt and attractive. Perry Mason stood close to her, looked her over with approval.

"Give me that bottle of perfume, Della," he said.

He took the bottle of perfume, wafted it beneath the young woman's nostrils.

"Any objection to using this?" he asked.

"I'll say not, I could use all of that you wanted to give me."

"All right, put on lots of it."

"Where?"

"On your clothes — anywhere."

"I hate to waste that good perfume."

"That's all right, go ahead and put it on."

Della Street smiled at the young woman, and said, "Perhaps I can help."

She applied perfume liberally to the girl's clothes.

"Now," said Perry Mason, "you're going to go to a certain taxicab and tell the driver that you left a handkerchief in the taxicab. When you had him take you out to 4889 Milpas Drive. Do you suppose you can remember that?"

"Sure. What else do I do — anything?"

"That's all, just take the handkerchief and give the cab driver a sweet smile."

"Then what?"

"He'll give you the handkerchief and ask you for your address. Because, he'll tell you, you've got to let him know where you live so he can report to the Lost and Found Department."

"Very well, then what do I do?"

"Then you give him a phoney name and address, and fade from the picture."

"That's all there is to it?"

"That's all there is to it."

"What name and address do I give him?"

"Give him the name of Agnes Brownlie, and tell him that you live at the Breedmont Hotel, on Ninth and Masonic Streets. Don't give him any room number."

"What do I do with the handkerchief?"

"After you've got the handkerchief, you bring it to me."

"This is on the up and up?" she asked.

"It's within the law," he told her, "if that's what you want to know."

"And I get three hundred dollars for doing it?"

"Three hundred dollars when the job is finished."

"When's the job going to be finished?"