The Case of the Curious Bride by Erle Stanley Gardner

did. He came to call on me first."
    "What did he say?"
    "He said he'd recognized the key that was photographed in the newspaper, that he knew you had tried to drug him; that you'd gone out, that he'd heard you come in, that you got the garage door stuck and lied to him when he asked you about it being open."
    "I didn't think he was that clever," she wailed, "and that lie about the garage door is going to trap me, isn't it?"
    "It won't do you any good," Mason said grimly.
    "And Carl told you he was going to tell the police?"
    "Yes. I couldn't do anything with him on that. He had ideas of what his duty was."
    "You mustn't judge him by that," she said. "He's really nice. Did he say anything about… about any one else?"
    "He told me he thought you might try to shield some one."
    "Who?"
    "Doctor Millsap."
    Mason could hear her gasp. Then she said in startled tones, "What does he know about Doctor Millsap?"
    "I don't know. What do you know about him?"
    "He's a friend."
    "Was he there at Moxley's house last night?"
    "Good heavens, no!"
    "You're sure?"
    "Yes."
    Perry Mason dropped another nickel into the telephone, gave the number of Paul Drake's office. "Perry Mason talking, Paul," he said when he heard the voice of the detective on the wire. "You've read the papers, of course."
    The receiver made a succession of metallic sounds. Rhoda Montaine, crouched in the cramped position on the floor of the telephone booth, moved a few inches to one side, shifted her knees slightly. "Okay," Mason said. "You know the general situation then. I'm representing Rhoda Montaine. You probably know by this time that she's the woman you saw come out of my office yesterday. I want you to start a general investigation. The police must have taken photographs of the room where Moxley was found. I want to get some of those photographs. Some of the newspaper men should be able to give you a break. I want you to investigate every angle you can uncover. And here's something funny. There were no fingerprints on that doorknob. I want to know why… What if she was wearing gloves?… That would have concealed her fingerprints, but others must have been using that door. Moxley must have opened and closed it a dozen times during the day. I was there earlier in the day. It was a hot day, and my hands were perspiring. There must have been some fingerprints on that doorknob.
    "Yes, keep on with Moxley. Find out everything you can about him and about his record. Interview the witnesses. Get all the dope you can. The district attorney will probably sew up the witnesses who are going to testify for him. I'm going to beat him to it if I can. Never mind that now. I'll see you later… No. I can't tell you. You get started. There'll be some developments within a few minutes. G'bye." Mason slammed the receiver back on the hook.
    "Now," he said to Rhoda Montaine, "we've got to work fast. The men from the Chronicle will be here any minute. Those fellows drive like the devil. The police are going to question you. They're going to do everything they can to make you talk. They're going to give you all kinds of opportunities to bust into conversation. You've got to promise me that you'll keep quiet. Can you do that?"
    "Yes."
    "No matter what happens you're going to keep quiet?"
    "Yes."
    "Insist on calling me. Tell them you want me there whenever they get you on the carpet. Will you do that?"
    "Of course. I've told you I would half a dozen times. How many more times do I have to tell you?"
    "Dozens," he told her, "and that probably wouldn't be enough. They'll…" There was a gentle tap on the door of the telephone booth. Mason broke off and looked through the glass. A young man held a card against the glass. The card showed that he was a reporter from the Chronicle. Perry Mason twisted the knob of the door. "Okay, Rhoda," he said, "let's go."
    The door opened. "Where's the girl?" asked the newspaper man.
    Another reporter slipped around from behind the corner of the telephone