Mason.
Mason's eyes rapidly adjusted themselves to the dim light.
"I'm Perry Mason. I'm an attorney," he said. "I'm representing Ellen Robb. You threw her out of here last night without giving her a chance to get her things. The first thing we want is to get to her locker and get her belongings."
"All right, all right," George said. "You want to go to the locker. The chief of police is here. He'll search the locker."
"Not without a warrant he won't."
"That's what you think," the chief said. "When she opens that door I take a look. George Anclitas owns this place. He's given me permission to search any part of it I want."
"The locker is the property of my client," Mason said.
"She got a deed to it?" George asked.
"It was designated as a place where she could store her things," Mason said.
"While she was working here. She isn't working here any more. I want to take a look in there. I want to see what's in there. I'll bet you I'll find some of the money that's been missing from the cash register."
"You mean," Mason said, "that she would have taken the money from the cash register last night, then gone to her locker, unlocked the locker, opened the door, put the money in there, then closed and locked the door again?"
"Where else would she have put it?" George asked.
Mason regarded his client with twinkling eyes. "There," he said, "you have a point."
"You're damned right I got a point," George said.
"And you don't have a key to the locker?" Mason asked.
"Why should I have a key?"
"I thought perhaps you might have a master key that would open all of the lockers."
"Well, think again."
"You can't get in this locker?"
"Of course not. I gave her the key. She's got it in her purse, that little purse she keeps down in the front of her sweater. I saw her put it there."
"And you have been unable to open her locker?" Mason asked.
"Of course. Sure, that's right. How could I get in? She's got the key."
"Then," Mason said, "how did you expect to get her things out and send them by bus to Phoenix, Arizona?"
George hesitated only a moment, then said, "I was going to get a locksmith."
The police chief said, "Don't talk with him, George. He's just trying to get admissions from you."
"First," Mason said, "I'm going to get my client's things. I'm warning you that any attempt to search her things without a warrant will be considered an illegal invasion of my client's rights. I'm also demanding an apology from Mr. Anclitas because of remarks he has made suggesting that my client is less than honest. Such an apology will not be accepted as compensation by my client, but we are suggesting that it be made in order to mitigate damages."
George started to say something, but the chief of police said, "Take it easy, George. Where's Jebley?"
"That's what I want to know," Anclitas said angrily. "I told my attorney to be here. This tramp is going to show up with an attorney, I'm going to have an attorney. I-"
The door opened. For a moment the light from the sidewalk poured in, silhouetting a thick neck, a pair of football player's shoulders and a shock of curly hair. Then the door closed and the silhouette resolved itself into a man of around thirty-seven with dark-rimmed spectacles, a toothy grin and hard, appraising eyes.
"This," George Anclitas announced, "is Jebley Alton, the city attorney here at Rowena. The city attorney job isn't full time. He takes private clients. I'm one."
George turned to the attorney. "Jeb," he said, "this man is Mason. He says he's a lawyer and-"
Anclitas was interrupted by Alton's exclamation. "Perry Mason!" he exclaimed.
Mason nodded.
Alton's hand shot forward. "Well, my gosh," he said, "am I glad to meet you! I've seen you around the Hall of Justice a couple of times and I've followed some of your cases."
Alton's fingers closed around Mason's hand.
"All right, never mind the brotherly love stuff," George said. "This guy Mason is representing this woman who's trying to blackmail me and-"
"Easy,
Mason's eyes rapidly adjusted themselves to the dim light.
"I'm Perry Mason. I'm an attorney," he said. "I'm representing Ellen Robb. You threw her out of here last night without giving her a chance to get her things. The first thing we want is to get to her locker and get her belongings."
"All right, all right," George said. "You want to go to the locker. The chief of police is here. He'll search the locker."
"Not without a warrant he won't."
"That's what you think," the chief said. "When she opens that door I take a look. George Anclitas owns this place. He's given me permission to search any part of it I want."
"The locker is the property of my client," Mason said.
"She got a deed to it?" George asked.
"It was designated as a place where she could store her things," Mason said.
"While she was working here. She isn't working here any more. I want to take a look in there. I want to see what's in there. I'll bet you I'll find some of the money that's been missing from the cash register."
"You mean," Mason said, "that she would have taken the money from the cash register last night, then gone to her locker, unlocked the locker, opened the door, put the money in there, then closed and locked the door again?"
"Where else would she have put it?" George asked.
Mason regarded his client with twinkling eyes. "There," he said, "you have a point."
"You're damned right I got a point," George said.
"And you don't have a key to the locker?" Mason asked.
"Why should I have a key?"
"I thought perhaps you might have a master key that would open all of the lockers."
"Well, think again."
"You can't get in this locker?"
"Of course not. I gave her the key. She's got it in her purse, that little purse she keeps down in the front of her sweater. I saw her put it there."
"And you have been unable to open her locker?" Mason asked.
"Of course. Sure, that's right. How could I get in? She's got the key."
"Then," Mason said, "how did you expect to get her things out and send them by bus to Phoenix, Arizona?"
George hesitated only a moment, then said, "I was going to get a locksmith."
The police chief said, "Don't talk with him, George. He's just trying to get admissions from you."
"First," Mason said, "I'm going to get my client's things. I'm warning you that any attempt to search her things without a warrant will be considered an illegal invasion of my client's rights. I'm also demanding an apology from Mr. Anclitas because of remarks he has made suggesting that my client is less than honest. Such an apology will not be accepted as compensation by my client, but we are suggesting that it be made in order to mitigate damages."
George started to say something, but the chief of police said, "Take it easy, George. Where's Jebley?"
"That's what I want to know," Anclitas said angrily. "I told my attorney to be here. This tramp is going to show up with an attorney, I'm going to have an attorney. I-"
The door opened. For a moment the light from the sidewalk poured in, silhouetting a thick neck, a pair of football player's shoulders and a shock of curly hair. Then the door closed and the silhouette resolved itself into a man of around thirty-seven with dark-rimmed spectacles, a toothy grin and hard, appraising eyes.
"This," George Anclitas announced, "is Jebley Alton, the city attorney here at Rowena. The city attorney job isn't full time. He takes private clients. I'm one."
George turned to the attorney. "Jeb," he said, "this man is Mason. He says he's a lawyer and-"
Anclitas was interrupted by Alton's exclamation. "Perry Mason!" he exclaimed.
Mason nodded.
Alton's hand shot forward. "Well, my gosh," he said, "am I glad to meet you! I've seen you around the Hall of Justice a couple of times and I've followed some of your cases."
Alton's fingers closed around Mason's hand.
"All right, never mind the brotherly love stuff," George said. "This guy Mason is representing this woman who's trying to blackmail me and-"
"Easy,
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