"He's drunk," the manager said.
Mason smiled at her.
"Or he may be drugged," she said.
Mason handed the officer one of his cards. "You can always locate me," he said.
"I recognized you," the officer said, "and, of course, checked your name on your driving license."
"I think that's all that needs to be done here," Mason said. "I will need a tow car."
"I'll phone for one," the officer said, then moved over to his automobile, climbed into the seat, picked up the microphone of his radio and called a number.
After a while, a voice came over the radio speaker. The officer turned down the volume, raised the windows on his car so that the voice was inaudible outside of the car. He talked for some two or three minutes, then he hung up the phone and came back to Virginia Baxter.
"Where have you been this evening, Miss Baxter?" he asked.
"I drove from my apartment to the motel here."
"Make any stops along the way?"
"No."
"Where is your apartment?"
"The same address that's on my driver's license-422 Eureka Arms Apartments."
"Have any trouble along the way?" the officer asked.
"Why, no. Why do you ask?"
The officer said, "There's been a pretty bad accident down on the coast road. George Eagan, a chauffeur, was driving Mrs. Lauretta Trent, going south, when a car veered out of control, crowded the Trent car off the road, struck the rear fender, sent the car into a spin and into the ocean. Eagan escaped, but the car went over the road into the ocean. Lauretta Trent was drowned. They haven't as yet recovered her body.
"The description of the car that caused the accident matches the description of this car-You're sure you haven't been drinking?"
"Give her a test," Mason said.
"You any objection to taking a test?" the officer asked.
She looked at Mason with wide, frightened eyes.
"Not in the least," Mason said.
The officer didn't even turn but kept his eyes on Virginia Baxter.
"No," she said, "I'll take a test."
"Blow up this balloon," the officer said.
Virginia Baxter blew up the balloon. The officer again retired to his automobile, again talked for a while into the microphone, then returned.
"You been taking any drugs today, Miss Baxter?"
"Not today. I took a couple of aspirin last night."
"And that's all?"
"That's all."
"What time did you leave your apartment?"
"Well, let's see, it was about… well, probably three hours ago."
"And you came directly here?"
"Yes."
"How long have you been here?"
"You can check the time of registration," Mason suggested.
The manager said, "We don't keep a time record-only the date, but I think she's been here for… well, say an hour and a half anyway."
"But I've been here longer than that," Virginia said.
"Well, I'm willing to swear to an hour and a half," the manager said.
The officer looked thoughtful.
"May I ask how they got a description of the Baxter car?" Mason asked.
The officer regarded him thoughtfully, then said, "A motorist, coming along behind, saw the accident. The car turned off on the road that came up here. He got a description of the rear of the car, and a part of the license number."
"Which part?" Mason asked.
"Enough to make a pretty good identification," the officer said shortly.
Virginia Baxter suddenly burst out angrily. "All right," she said, "I've taken all I'm going to take. This is just another frame-up!
"I didn't have any accident along the road; I didn't run into Lauretta Trent's car, and as far as that chauffeur is concerned, he's a plain liar.
"He's been after me to make a forged will for Lauretta Trent and-"
"Easy, easy," Mason interrupted.
"I'm not going to take it easy," she stormed. "This chauffeur paid me to make a forged will. He's been planning murder and-"
"Shut up!" Mason snapped.
Virginia turned indignant eyes on him. "I don't have to keep quiet and-"
"You let me do the talking for a minute, Virginia."
The officer said, "You representing this woman?"
"I am now," Mason said.
The traffic officer went over to his automobile, picked up the microphone. This time, he left the door open so they could hear what he said.
"Auburn, at Car two-fifteen. I'm reporting from the scene of the accident at this motel.
"You can't tell a thing about the condition of this car Virginia Baxter was driving because Perry Mason slammed into it with his automobile. Apparently, Perry Mason is representing her as her attorney, and she says George Eagan, the Trent chauffeur, paid her to make a forged will and has been planning a murder.
"That's her story."
The voice that came over the intercommunicating system was loud enough for everyone to hear. It was a crisp voice, filled with authority. It said, "This is the chief investigator of the D.A.'s office. Bring that girl in for questioning. She'll probably be charged with first-degree murder. But let's get the story before Mason mixes up any more of the evidence."
"Very well, sir," the officer said.
"Start now," the crisp voice commanded, "and I mean now!"
"Shall I give her a chance to get her things and-"
The voice interrupted. "Now."
Mason said in an undertone, "This is just what I was afraid of, Virginia. You're mixed up in some sort of a plot. Now, for heaven's sake, keep quiet. Don't tell them anything unless I am present."
"That's going to make it look all the worse," she whispered. "They'll find that registered letter I sent myself and-"
The officer interrupted, "Right in this car, Miss Baxter, please."
"I'm certainly entitled to get my things," she said. "I-"
"Under the circumstances," the officer interrupted, "you're under arrest. If I have to, I can put handcuffs on you."
"What's going to happen with this driveway blocked?" the manager asked. She had been standing as an openmouthed spectator but had finally gotten her breath restored.
"We'll send a wrecking car," the officer said. "In the meantime, I have other things to do."
He slammed the door of the car, started the motor, skidded out of the exit, hit the highway, turned on his red light, and the manager, Della and Mason listened to the scream of his siren vanishing in the distance.
Mason surveyed the wreckage ruefully. "Well," he told Della, "we are, for the moment, immobilized. The first thing to do is to arrange for transportation."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was ten o'clock in the morning. Mason paced the attorney's room at the jail impatiently.
A policewoman brought Virginia Baxter in, then discreetly withdrew out of earshot.
Mason said, "I understand you told the police everything, Virginia."
She said, "They kept after me until way late-it must have been nearly midnight."
"I know," Mason said sympathetically. "They told you that they wanted to clear you so you could go home and go to bed; that if you'd only tell them the truth they'd investigate it and, if it checked out, they'd release you immediately; that, of course, if you refused to say anything that was your privilege but, in their own minds, it would show them that you were guilty and they'd stop trying to clear you. In that event they'd go home and go to bed and leave you in jail."
Her eyes widened with surprise. "How did you know what they said?" she asked.
Mason merely smiled. "What did you tell them, Virginia?"
"I told them everything."
Mason said, "Hamilton Burger, the district attorney, and Lieutenant Tragg told me they wanted me here this morning; that they were going to ask you some questions that they thought I should hear. Now, that means something pretty devastating. They evidently have some unpleasant surprises for you.
"It also means that you finally told them you wanted to get in touch with me and they then complied with the law by putting through a call to my office."
"That's exactly what happened," she said. "I told them everything last night because they said they'd investigate and, if I was telling the truth, I could go home and go to bed.
"Right after I'd told them everything, they simply got up and said, 'Well, Virginia, we'll investigate,' and started to walk out.
"I told them that they said I could go home and go to bed, and they said, Why, of course I could, but not tonight. It would be the next night-that it would take a day to investigate."
"Then what?"
"I didn't sleep hardly a wink-being behind bars for the second time-Mr. Mason, what is the matter?"
"I don't know," Mason told her, "but a great deal depends on whether you've told me the truth or whether you're lying."
"Why should I lie to you?"
"I don't know," Mason said, "but you've certainly been mixed up in some bizarre adventures, if one believes your story."
"And suppose one doesn't believe it?"
"Well," Mason said, "I'm afraid the district attorney and Lieutenant Tragg of the Homicide Squad are two people who don't believe you."
"Would you expect them to?"
"Sometimes they believe people," Mason said. "They're actually trying to do a job. They're trying to do justice but of course they don't like to have unsolved homicides."
"What about the homicide?" she asked.
Mason said, "George Eagan, the chauffeur, was driving Lauretta Trent down the coast highway. They were coming south from Ventura.
"Mrs. Trent told the chauffeur that she'd tell him where to turn off, that they were going to a motel up in the mountains.
"They approached the turnoff leading up to the motel where you were waiting. So far the facts seem to indicate that Lauretta Trent was the one who telephoned you and asked you to wait for her there."
"She did, Mr. Mason. She did. I told you-"
"You don't know," Mason interrupted. "All you know is that a feminine voice told you that it was Lauretta Trent speaking and you were to go up there and wait at the motel.
"Anyway, just as the chauffeur was preparing to make the left turn, a car came up behind him fast. He swung to the right of the road so as to let the second car get by. However, that car swung over and crowded the Trent car right off the road and over the edge.
"There was an angry surf, and the chauffeur, George Eagan, knew there was deep water down there. He yelled to Mrs. Trent to jump and he flung the car door open and jumped himself. He apparently hit his head on a rock. In any event he was unconscious for some period of time.
"When he came to, there was no sign of the Trent automobile. The highway patrol was there. The highway police got a tow car, sent down divers and located the Trent car. They got grappling hooks on it, used a winch, brought it to the surface. There was no sign of Mrs. Trent, but the door on the left-hand, rear side of the car was unlocked and open. Evidently she had opened that door before the car went over the grade and rolled into the surf.
"They may never recover her body. There are treacherous currents there and a terrific undertow. Skin divers who went down there looking around had a hard time wrestling with the currents. A body could have been carried out to sea or swept down the coast. There's a terrific riptide at that point."
"But why pick on me?"
"The chauffeur got a quick look at the rear end of the car that hit him. The description matches your car. A man who was two cars behind got a look at the last two figures on the license plate and they're the same as yours."