(no subject)
Title: Bear Valley
Fandom: Perry Mason (1957 TV series)
Pairing: Della, Perry, Paul. Maybe a bit slashy, you know me.
Word count: 1900
Synopsis: Fills in some of the gaps in "The Case of the Angry Mourner". Even on vacation, Perry can't escape his job. Unfortunately that means Paul can't, either.
Notes: For calliope85, because it's her birthday! Extremely mild spoilers for the episode.
Perry's cabin- Bear Lake, Alpine County, CA. Nice, isn't it. I wouldn't mind the car myself.
Perry's cabin, interior. With bonus Adorable-Perry-And-Della. I just want to smoosh Perry when he grins like that, he looks like a little boy. Note also BEARSKIN RUG. IN FRONT OF FIREPLACE. If only I could actually *write* porn.
Perry's cabin, interior. With bonus Paul!grin. It's lunchtime, what isn't there to smile about?
Bear Valley
The phone rang sharply, startling Paul out of a sound sleep. He'd only retired to his apartment in Crestview a few hours before and in another few it would be time for him to be getting back to the Agency for business hours. It was hard work but he never minded getting his hands dirty. Stuck behind a desk all day wasn't his idea of fun, and besides, if he didn't use his contacts, some other gumshoe with grabby hands would snap them right up and it would take him years to work his way back in.
He sat up as the phone rang again. He switched on the bedside lamp, and snatched up a pencil and paper from beside his bed, before lifting the receiver.
"Drake speaking," he said, internally lamenting the frequency with which his sleep was disturbed by the telephone.
"Paul, it's Perry Mason," came the gruff voice at the other end. Paul wondered why that surprised him, nine times out of every ten the disturbance was connected in some way with one of Perry’s cases. He’d thought himself safe this week.
"Perry? Aren’t you on vacation?"
Perry laughed. "I am, though it looks like I'm not any more. I just got a house call from one of my neighbours. There's been a shooting and her daughter might be implicated. How do you feel about a few days at the lake?"
"If I didn’t know you meant legwork, I’d jump at the chance. What do you need?"
"Ideally, you. And some of your best agents."
“You got it, Perry,” Paul said, already running through his mental list of operatives, and planning what he would need to pack for an overnight stay.
“Can you come right away? I know it’s early, but I have a hunch that time is of the essence if this is going to pay off.”
Drake checked his watch. Five-thirty, great. “I’ll see who’s available and get there as soon as I can. But Perry?”
“Yes?”
“You do know it’s Water Carnival Weekend at Bear Valley, don’t you?”
Perry chuckled, sounding much too pleased. “I know. But don’t get any ideas that you’ll be able to try waterskiing. You’ll be far too busy.”
“Goodness, Perry,” Paul grumbled, “You make vacations sound just swell. See you soon.”
“It’s not your vacation, so I needn’t worry! Thanks, Paul, I appreciate it.”
* * *
The operator on his switchboard laughed at him when he called in, yawning.
“Sylvia,” he said, with a long-suffering air, “You’re the best night-operator a man could wish for, but it’s just not fair that you’re so wide awake at this time in the morning.”
“That’s why I’m the night-operator, Mr. Drake,” she said cheekily, still laughing. “I’ll call round and see who’s available at once. You should get some coffee.”
“Call me when you’ve got three men. I’m taking your advice.” He hung up the receiver and headed for the kitchenette, twitching back the blind over the half open window to take a look at the greying light outside. It had evidently rained hard during the night, the pavements still slick and wet, the fresh smell of damp earth in the air. He frowned.
He set the kettle to boil and drew his dressing-gown tighter around himself as he wandered back through to the bedroom, taking out his small travelling bag and starting to pack. He was almost done by the time the kettle whistled on the stove. It continued to whistle as he paused for a minute, before crossing to his dresser and taking out his bathing shorts. He looked at them for a moment, then shrugged, and surreptitiously added them to the bag, laying them carefully on top of a pair of striped pyjamas.
The telephone rang again as he was shaving in the bathroom mirror, cup of coffee cooling on the washstand. He hurriedly wiped off the remains of the foam on the corner of the towel around his neck, and carried his cup of coffee back through to the telephone.
“Sylvia?” he said.
“I hope you had your coffee, Mr. Drake,” Sylvia’s cheerful voice came through the handset. “Fairoak, Bain and Henderson are on their way here.”
“Listen, Sylvia, call the aerodrome,” he said. “There was some pretty serious rain during the night, and I’m not awake enough yet to go driving that bunch of crazies three hours out to Frisco on these wet roads. Get us a plane.”
* * *
It was worth it to see Perry’s face when they appeared on his doorstep just after eight. Paul committed it to memory; saving it up to recall when he was faced with the look of shock Perry would wear when he received the expenses bill. Mason was still in his dressing gown and carpet slippers, the desk just inside the door laden with what few law books he kept in his holiday cabin.
“Reporting for duty, Perry,” he said with a grin, and strolled past the host into the cabin, looking around with undisguised admiration. He gave a low whistle and turned back to look at his friend.
“Some place you’ve got here,” he said. “Doesn’t it get a bit drafty all by yourself?”
“You try finding somewhere smaller in this town,” Perry replied. “It’s three bathrooms or nothing, and I’m not a camping man.” He motioned to Paul’s three operatives, lurking hesitantly on the porch, to come in. “Did you break speed limits to get here, Paul? I wasn’t expecting you for at least another hour.”
“We flew up. You said it was urgent after all.” He put his hands in his pockets and waited for the instructions he knew were coming as Perry closed the distance between them.
“You and your men can make a start. I want a complete list of the license numbers of every car in the valley.”
Paul’s jaw dropped. Luckily his men were slightly more diplomatic and just exchanged glances. “Every car? There must be hundreds of people up here for the water carnival. It’s going to take all day.”
“Better get started then.” Perry said, patting Paul’s lapel.
“At least let us have coffee, first. Where’s your hospitality?”
“The kitchen’s through there,” Perry said, pointing towards the back room, eyes twinkling.
It wasn’t long before they each had a cup of coffee and were sitting around Perry’s hand carved oak table dividing up the map of Bear Valley into portions. Outside it was turning out to be a beautiful day, bright and clear, and perfect for the carnival parade through the town and the water sports which would be continued on the lake that day.
Henderson slurped the last of his coffee and sat back in his chair. “Is it only a list we need or should we note the locations of the cars as well?”
Paul glanced at Perry, who was sitting at the small desk just inside the door, reading something.
“Just the numbers should be enough,” Perry said absently, without looking up. “If this pays off, that’s all we’ll need.”
“Well,” Paul said, stretching his long frame up out of the chair, “You fellas had better get going. Come back here for lunch, or when you’re done, whichever comes first.”
The operatives were shepherded out of the door, setting off on foot to begin the legwork that Perry hoped would lead to the woman who’d screamed in the night. Paul stayed where he was, resting his chin on his hands and studying Perry across the width of the room.
“What are you hoping to turn up with this, Perry?”
“A woman who was at the scene of the murder at about two thirty this morning. I’m hoping she’s still in the area.”
“So that means we’ll have to run all these numbers?”
“I hope it won’t come to that. If I’m right we’ll be able to narrow it down.”
“Well I hope so. My sources wouldn’t stand up to a thousand license plates.” He leaned back in his chair. “You should come here more, it’s good for you.”
Perry smiled, and stood up to prod the fire with the poker, even though it was starting to be a little too warm for it. “It’s too quiet up here. Oh, and there’s all sorts of problems with the neighbours.” He shot a glance at Paul.
“Who says you have to stay here alone? I bet the fishing’s great and…” Paul said, hinting, letting his voice trail away. His eyes drifted over to the window and the serene blue lake beyond it.
“Why Paul, it would be scandalous for Della and me to stay here together. Think of her reputation.” Perry’s voice was filled with innocent shock.
Paul scowled and looked at his friend, rolling his eyes when he caught the glint of humour in Perry’s expression that told him he was being teased.
“When’s she getting down here, anyway? I assume she’s bringing half your law library.”
“I only called Della an hour ago, I didn’t want to wake her too early.”
“And yet you have no qualms about disturbing my beauty sleep.” Paul gave a long suffering sigh.
“You need it, that’s for sure,” Perry said, deadpan, but there was suddenly a thoughtful look in his pale blue eyes.
* * *
Della winced as she watched the water-skier on the lake go down again. Perry’s deep chuckle from just behind her made her look around with a smile.
“He’s really quite dreadful at it, isn’t he?” she said, with a slightly rueful smile.
“Absolutely terrible,” Perry agreed, eyes fondly on Paul as he resurfaced, a look of exhilarated joy plastered all over his face.
Della shaded her eyes against the sun, which was just starting to set over the crest of the mountains. Perry was relaxed again, the worries of the case gone with his victory in the tiny Markleeville courthouse. Without looking at him, she said, “What made you change your mind?”
“Change my mind? About what?”
“Having company on your vacation. You seemed so set against it.” She turned around to see him, propping her hip on the low brick wall surrounding Perry’s little sun terrace.
“Maybe I was lonely.”
“Lonely? Not you.” She looked at him. “You never seem to care either way if you’re alone or in a crowd of a hundred.”
“You’re not going to drop it, are you?” he said, studying her. She shook her head and smirked at him.
He smiled a little sadly. “It was something Paul said, a long time ago. About how he’d always wanted to try water-skiing. I didn’t even remember until Mark Cushing’s death. Cushing was going to be the water carnival ski-jump champion, you know, until he broke his leg the day before the final heat.”
He was silent for a moment, thinking, and Della watched him as his eyes drifted across the lake and the mountains that surrounded it. She didn’t expect any more of an admission, so she was unsurprised when his tone became more jocular.
“At any rate, our case is over. We might as well stay and enjoy the lake for a few more days. Unless the Bear Valley Inn isn’t comfortable enough for you?”
“Oh no,” she said, hastily, “It’s just great.” She smiled quietly to herself, and watched Perry watching Paul out on the water as the light of the summer evening began to fade.
Fandom: Perry Mason (1957 TV series)
Pairing: Della, Perry, Paul. Maybe a bit slashy, you know me.
Word count: 1900
Synopsis: Fills in some of the gaps in "The Case of the Angry Mourner". Even on vacation, Perry can't escape his job. Unfortunately that means Paul can't, either.
Notes: For calliope85, because it's her birthday! Extremely mild spoilers for the episode.
Perry's cabin- Bear Lake, Alpine County, CA. Nice, isn't it. I wouldn't mind the car myself.
Perry's cabin, interior. With bonus Adorable-Perry-And-Della. I just want to smoosh Perry when he grins like that, he looks like a little boy. Note also BEARSKIN RUG. IN FRONT OF FIREPLACE. If only I could actually *write* porn.
Perry's cabin, interior. With bonus Paul!grin. It's lunchtime, what isn't there to smile about?
Bear Valley
The phone rang sharply, startling Paul out of a sound sleep. He'd only retired to his apartment in Crestview a few hours before and in another few it would be time for him to be getting back to the Agency for business hours. It was hard work but he never minded getting his hands dirty. Stuck behind a desk all day wasn't his idea of fun, and besides, if he didn't use his contacts, some other gumshoe with grabby hands would snap them right up and it would take him years to work his way back in.
He sat up as the phone rang again. He switched on the bedside lamp, and snatched up a pencil and paper from beside his bed, before lifting the receiver.
"Drake speaking," he said, internally lamenting the frequency with which his sleep was disturbed by the telephone.
"Paul, it's Perry Mason," came the gruff voice at the other end. Paul wondered why that surprised him, nine times out of every ten the disturbance was connected in some way with one of Perry’s cases. He’d thought himself safe this week.
"Perry? Aren’t you on vacation?"
Perry laughed. "I am, though it looks like I'm not any more. I just got a house call from one of my neighbours. There's been a shooting and her daughter might be implicated. How do you feel about a few days at the lake?"
"If I didn’t know you meant legwork, I’d jump at the chance. What do you need?"
"Ideally, you. And some of your best agents."
“You got it, Perry,” Paul said, already running through his mental list of operatives, and planning what he would need to pack for an overnight stay.
“Can you come right away? I know it’s early, but I have a hunch that time is of the essence if this is going to pay off.”
Drake checked his watch. Five-thirty, great. “I’ll see who’s available and get there as soon as I can. But Perry?”
“Yes?”
“You do know it’s Water Carnival Weekend at Bear Valley, don’t you?”
Perry chuckled, sounding much too pleased. “I know. But don’t get any ideas that you’ll be able to try waterskiing. You’ll be far too busy.”
“Goodness, Perry,” Paul grumbled, “You make vacations sound just swell. See you soon.”
“It’s not your vacation, so I needn’t worry! Thanks, Paul, I appreciate it.”
* * *
The operator on his switchboard laughed at him when he called in, yawning.
“Sylvia,” he said, with a long-suffering air, “You’re the best night-operator a man could wish for, but it’s just not fair that you’re so wide awake at this time in the morning.”
“That’s why I’m the night-operator, Mr. Drake,” she said cheekily, still laughing. “I’ll call round and see who’s available at once. You should get some coffee.”
“Call me when you’ve got three men. I’m taking your advice.” He hung up the receiver and headed for the kitchenette, twitching back the blind over the half open window to take a look at the greying light outside. It had evidently rained hard during the night, the pavements still slick and wet, the fresh smell of damp earth in the air. He frowned.
He set the kettle to boil and drew his dressing-gown tighter around himself as he wandered back through to the bedroom, taking out his small travelling bag and starting to pack. He was almost done by the time the kettle whistled on the stove. It continued to whistle as he paused for a minute, before crossing to his dresser and taking out his bathing shorts. He looked at them for a moment, then shrugged, and surreptitiously added them to the bag, laying them carefully on top of a pair of striped pyjamas.
The telephone rang again as he was shaving in the bathroom mirror, cup of coffee cooling on the washstand. He hurriedly wiped off the remains of the foam on the corner of the towel around his neck, and carried his cup of coffee back through to the telephone.
“Sylvia?” he said.
“I hope you had your coffee, Mr. Drake,” Sylvia’s cheerful voice came through the handset. “Fairoak, Bain and Henderson are on their way here.”
“Listen, Sylvia, call the aerodrome,” he said. “There was some pretty serious rain during the night, and I’m not awake enough yet to go driving that bunch of crazies three hours out to Frisco on these wet roads. Get us a plane.”
* * *
It was worth it to see Perry’s face when they appeared on his doorstep just after eight. Paul committed it to memory; saving it up to recall when he was faced with the look of shock Perry would wear when he received the expenses bill. Mason was still in his dressing gown and carpet slippers, the desk just inside the door laden with what few law books he kept in his holiday cabin.
“Reporting for duty, Perry,” he said with a grin, and strolled past the host into the cabin, looking around with undisguised admiration. He gave a low whistle and turned back to look at his friend.
“Some place you’ve got here,” he said. “Doesn’t it get a bit drafty all by yourself?”
“You try finding somewhere smaller in this town,” Perry replied. “It’s three bathrooms or nothing, and I’m not a camping man.” He motioned to Paul’s three operatives, lurking hesitantly on the porch, to come in. “Did you break speed limits to get here, Paul? I wasn’t expecting you for at least another hour.”
“We flew up. You said it was urgent after all.” He put his hands in his pockets and waited for the instructions he knew were coming as Perry closed the distance between them.
“You and your men can make a start. I want a complete list of the license numbers of every car in the valley.”
Paul’s jaw dropped. Luckily his men were slightly more diplomatic and just exchanged glances. “Every car? There must be hundreds of people up here for the water carnival. It’s going to take all day.”
“Better get started then.” Perry said, patting Paul’s lapel.
“At least let us have coffee, first. Where’s your hospitality?”
“The kitchen’s through there,” Perry said, pointing towards the back room, eyes twinkling.
It wasn’t long before they each had a cup of coffee and were sitting around Perry’s hand carved oak table dividing up the map of Bear Valley into portions. Outside it was turning out to be a beautiful day, bright and clear, and perfect for the carnival parade through the town and the water sports which would be continued on the lake that day.
Henderson slurped the last of his coffee and sat back in his chair. “Is it only a list we need or should we note the locations of the cars as well?”
Paul glanced at Perry, who was sitting at the small desk just inside the door, reading something.
“Just the numbers should be enough,” Perry said absently, without looking up. “If this pays off, that’s all we’ll need.”
“Well,” Paul said, stretching his long frame up out of the chair, “You fellas had better get going. Come back here for lunch, or when you’re done, whichever comes first.”
The operatives were shepherded out of the door, setting off on foot to begin the legwork that Perry hoped would lead to the woman who’d screamed in the night. Paul stayed where he was, resting his chin on his hands and studying Perry across the width of the room.
“What are you hoping to turn up with this, Perry?”
“A woman who was at the scene of the murder at about two thirty this morning. I’m hoping she’s still in the area.”
“So that means we’ll have to run all these numbers?”
“I hope it won’t come to that. If I’m right we’ll be able to narrow it down.”
“Well I hope so. My sources wouldn’t stand up to a thousand license plates.” He leaned back in his chair. “You should come here more, it’s good for you.”
Perry smiled, and stood up to prod the fire with the poker, even though it was starting to be a little too warm for it. “It’s too quiet up here. Oh, and there’s all sorts of problems with the neighbours.” He shot a glance at Paul.
“Who says you have to stay here alone? I bet the fishing’s great and…” Paul said, hinting, letting his voice trail away. His eyes drifted over to the window and the serene blue lake beyond it.
“Why Paul, it would be scandalous for Della and me to stay here together. Think of her reputation.” Perry’s voice was filled with innocent shock.
Paul scowled and looked at his friend, rolling his eyes when he caught the glint of humour in Perry’s expression that told him he was being teased.
“When’s she getting down here, anyway? I assume she’s bringing half your law library.”
“I only called Della an hour ago, I didn’t want to wake her too early.”
“And yet you have no qualms about disturbing my beauty sleep.” Paul gave a long suffering sigh.
“You need it, that’s for sure,” Perry said, deadpan, but there was suddenly a thoughtful look in his pale blue eyes.
* * *
Della winced as she watched the water-skier on the lake go down again. Perry’s deep chuckle from just behind her made her look around with a smile.
“He’s really quite dreadful at it, isn’t he?” she said, with a slightly rueful smile.
“Absolutely terrible,” Perry agreed, eyes fondly on Paul as he resurfaced, a look of exhilarated joy plastered all over his face.
Della shaded her eyes against the sun, which was just starting to set over the crest of the mountains. Perry was relaxed again, the worries of the case gone with his victory in the tiny Markleeville courthouse. Without looking at him, she said, “What made you change your mind?”
“Change my mind? About what?”
“Having company on your vacation. You seemed so set against it.” She turned around to see him, propping her hip on the low brick wall surrounding Perry’s little sun terrace.
“Maybe I was lonely.”
“Lonely? Not you.” She looked at him. “You never seem to care either way if you’re alone or in a crowd of a hundred.”
“You’re not going to drop it, are you?” he said, studying her. She shook her head and smirked at him.
He smiled a little sadly. “It was something Paul said, a long time ago. About how he’d always wanted to try water-skiing. I didn’t even remember until Mark Cushing’s death. Cushing was going to be the water carnival ski-jump champion, you know, until he broke his leg the day before the final heat.”
He was silent for a moment, thinking, and Della watched him as his eyes drifted across the lake and the mountains that surrounded it. She didn’t expect any more of an admission, so she was unsurprised when his tone became more jocular.
“At any rate, our case is over. We might as well stay and enjoy the lake for a few more days. Unless the Bear Valley Inn isn’t comfortable enough for you?”
“Oh no,” she said, hastily, “It’s just great.” She smiled quietly to herself, and watched Perry watching Paul out on the water as the light of the summer evening began to fade.