Paul Drake's voice came over the wire so fast that the words seemed to telescope into each other.
"Get this Perry, and get it fast," he said. "We're sitting on a keg of dynamite. My man found Ethel Garvin dead as a mackerel, sitting in her automobile with a bullet hole in her left temple."

"Suicide?" asked Perry Mason.
"Not much chance," Drake continued.
"She's slumped over the steering wheel and it's rather messy. The gun is lying on the ground directly beneath the window."
"What about the police?" "My operative discovered the body and managed to notify me. He's notifying the sheriff and the coroner's office. He got the number of the gun and I'm trying to trace it. We may be just one step ahead of the police." "Okay," said Perry Mason. "Stay one step ahead of them. I'm on my way." But neither Paul Drake nor Perry Mason was fast enough to stay one step ahead. And only a seemingly miraculous piece of detective work kept Perry Mason's client from being convicted of murder-and Perry from being disbarred.