"If, however, anything goes wrong, I won't have my lights on. If you come to the end of the swimming pool and see that my lights are off, don't come anywhere near the car. Understand?"
"For how long?" she asked.
"Until you see the car in the alley with the lights on. Then come across and join me."
"And if it's a long time, say over half an hour?"
"Under those circumstances," Mason said, "get back the best way you can. Take a bus or hitchhike."
"Okay," she said, "I'm on my way."
She opened the car door, slid out to the sidewalk, crossed the sidewalk and walked past the entrance to the motel around back of the swimming pooi.
Mason circled the block to the left, came to the alley, drove down the alley until he was in a position where he could see the end of the swimming pool, then shut off his motor and waited, with his lights on.
So intent was the lawyer on watching the swimming pool that he failed to keep an eye on the rearview mirror and did not see the car which pulled up behind him.
Two men got out and walked up to where Mason was sitting.
Miles Overton, the chief of police, said, "This is the lawyer I was telling you about."
Mason snapped to quick attention, turned and said casually, "Hello, Chief."
"Want you to meet a friend of mine," the chief said. "This is Ralston Fenwick, Mr. Mason."
A heavy-set, bullnecked individual with smiling lips and cold green eyes extended a pudgy hand on which a scintillating diamond made sparks of fire. "How are you, Mr. Mason? Mighty glad to know you."
"What are you doing here?" the chief asked.
"Parking," Mason said wearily, switching off the lights on his car. "Looking over the lay of the land. I want to make a diagram of the premises."
"How come?" the chief asked.
"My client is suing George Anclitas for seventy-five hundred dollars. Or hadn't you heard?"
"I'd heard," the chief said noncommittally.
Fenwick pushed the chief of police slightly to one side, eased an elbow over against Mason's car, smiled at the lawyer. "I'm just sort of getting oriented here, Mr. Mason. I wanted to see the lay of the land myself. Then I was going to come and have a talk with you."
"Yes?"
"That's right."
"What's your interest in me?" Mason asked.
"Well," Fenwick said, "I'm in public relations. I represent an association. George Anclitas is a member of that association."
"What's the association?" Mason asked.
Fenwick grinned. "It wouldn't mean a thing to you if I told you. It has a high-sounding name, but there's no reason for you and me to beat around the bush, Mason. The association is composed of men who are in the gambling business."
"I see," Mason said.
"You have some peculiar ideas about the law," Fenwick went on, "but because of your position, Mr. Mason, and the fact that you are a pretty shrewd lawyer, those ideas of yours could do us a lot of damage."
"They're not ideas of mine," Mason said. "They're ideas of the courts of the State of California."
"So I understand," Fenwick said.
Mason saw Della Street walk quickly to the end of the swimming pool, look across at the car, then as she was aware that the lights were not on and that two men were talking to Perry Mason, she moved around the end of the swimming pool and out of sight.
Fenwick said, "You know, this association is pretty powerful, Mr. Mason. That is, we have a lot of mighty nice people who are members, and it isn't just in this county. In fact, it isn't just in this state, although my territory is all within the state-places in Nevada, for instance, have-"
"I take it," Mason said, "you also look after the legislative interest of gambling establishments."
"Among other things," Fenwick said. "You know, Mason, a lot of people like to knock gambling; but, after all, there's nothing wrong with it. Gambling is an outlet for the emotions. All people gamble. It's universal. You can't stop it. Prisoners in penitentiaries gamble, every fraternal organization has its little gambling setup. Even the society women with their bridge clubs gamble.
"I'll tell you something else, Mason. Gambling makes good business. It puts money in circulation. It encourages sociability, and it's darned good business for a community. Now, you take right here in Rowena. You'd be surprised how much money comes into this city from gambling. People come in from all over this part of the country to do a little card playing-and they leave money here."
"I take it," Mason said, "the gamblers don't quite break even."
Fenwick threw back his head and laughed. "You're a card, Mr. Mason, you really are! Of course that's the whole principle of organized gambling, Mr. Mason. The customer doesn't break even. Hell's bells, he doesn't want to. If he wanted to break even, he'd stay home. He wouldn't go out to a gambling place at all.
"That's the real philosophy back of gambling. Sometimes the customer makes a profit. The gambler always makes a profit. Everybody knows that. The gambler isn't doing business for nothing. Some people lose and some people win. More people lose than win, but the people that win, win heavy. They sit in a game with fifty dollars and they leave it with five hundred or fifteen hundred. That's the lure. That's what keeps the wheels running.
"On the other hand, a gambler knows that while somebody may win fifteen hundred dollars in a game in the course of a week, the majority of people who sit in the game are going to contribute. That's where he makes his living, and, believe me, Mr. Mason, gambling is a good thing for a community."
"It's a matter of opinion," Mason said.
"Now, you look at this place here at Rowena," Fenwick went on. "It's well policed, orderly, quiet and law abiding. You don't have any holdups here. You don't have any problems with gangsters. The place just runs along smoothly, and people like George Anclitas are heavy taxpayers-I mean really heavy taxpayers."
"You mean gambling is a good thing for the community," Mason said, "for the citizens who make up the community?"
"That's right. Now you're getting the idea."
"Then there's no reason why we shouldn't tell the married women that the husband has the management of community property but he can't gamble it away. If a gambler wins the wife's share of community property, he can't keep it."
The smile faded from Fenwick's face. "Now that's a horse of another color, Mason. You're getting things all mixed up. I didn't say that, and we don't feel that way.
"In the first place, I think that when you make a careful study of the law you'll find you're mistaken, and frankly I'd like to have you make a careful study of the law. That's going to take some time, Mr. Mason. You're a lawyer, and we don't want you to do it for nothing. My association needs some representation here, and we'd like to retain you to sort of keep us advised on the law.
"One of the first things we'd like to have you do would be to take a year or so and really study up on the decisions relating to gambling and games of chance. We'd put you under a retainer of, say, fifteen thousand a year."
Mason grinned. "What do you want me for, Fenwick? You've already hired Gowrie."
Fenwick's eyes widened. "How did you know?" he asked.
Mason grinned.
"Well," Fenwick said, "after all, Mason, we're both of us grown up. Think this proposition over, will you?"
Mason shook his head. "I'm busy with trial work," he said. "I don't have many interests outside of that."
"Well, you sure knew some law that threw a monkey wrench in the machinery of our organization," Fenwick said. "Boy, they got me on the telephone and told me to get down here so fast it'd make your head swim. I was on a vacation down at Acapulco and had a very pleasant, understanding little companion along with me. Wham! Boy, did I get a telephone call! Get on the plane, get up to Rowena, talk with George Anclitas, talk with Perry Mason, talk with Darwin Gowrie, talk with Mrs. Helman Ellis!"