Chapter Text
Della Street was not too surprised to see a box of chocolates sitting on her desk when she unlocked the door to the office one rainy morning. Only one week before she had found two dozen red roses. She had put them in a vase, right out in the open. Perry Mason, her boss, had looked so proud when he saw that she had liked his gift.
Of course, the receptionist, Gertie Lade, also received gifts, especially if they had been working hard on a long case, but it was still the thought that counted.
Della opened her mouth and popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. Eating another piece, she tucked the box into her drawer.
After going through it, she gathered up the mail she wanted to bring to Perry's attention, including a letter from some teenager in Ohio that wanted his autograph. She was putting it on his desk when Perry walked in.
"Good morning, Della!" he said cheerfully, tossing his coat onto the sofa.
"Hello, Perry," she handed him the fan letter, "And thank you!"
She picked up his coat, hung it up, and left. Perry, however, stopped briefly, wondering what she could be thanking him for.
Della went back to her work. She answered the telephone, and writhed silently, her stomach feeling tight.
"Hello, this is Perry Mason's office. How may I help you?" she said politely.
"This is Charles Bradford's secretary. Mr. Bradford recently used Mr. Mason's services and is writing him a check. Who should he make the check out to?" a woman asked on the other end.
Della told her and hung up the phone. Her stomach hurt dreadfully. She poured herself some hot coffee, but it did nothing to help. She felt so sick. Della picked herself up frothier desk and went to Perry's door. With some difficulty, she managed to push it open.
"Perry, I -," Della gasped weakly.
She took one stumbling step before doubling over and crumpling in a heap on the floor.
"Della!" Perry jumped from his seat and hurried over to his fallen secretary.
"Hey, Perry, wh-" Paul knocked and came in, then stopped short when he saw Della on the floor, her eyes closed, "What happened?!" he cried, "Is she all right?"
"Call an ambulance, quick!"
Paul hurried to do as he was bid. Perry was not sure what to do. He wanted to move Della to the sofa, but he did not think it would be wise without the doctor's consent.
"What happened?" Paul asked again, coming over to them.
"I don't know; she just collapsed," Perry made sure Della was still breathing.
"Is she all right?"
"She'd better be," Perry was more worried than he let on.
Della lay motionless in the hospital bed two hours later, thinking over what the doctor had said. She turned to look at Perry as he came in and sat in the chair at her bedside. He smiled at her comfortingly.
"Poison," she said weakly.
He nodded. The doctor had said she had been poisoned.
"You had a lot of poison in you," Perry then added, "I came very close to losing my favorite secretary."
"I'm your only secretary," she gave him a suspicious side eye.
"But it's still no less true," he watched a faint smile cross her face as he said this.
"Do you know what I had that was poisoned?" she asked.
"No. Do you?"
She nodded.
"The chocolates left on my desk was the only thing I ate. I thought that you had left them, at first."
"I didn't give you any chocolates!" Perry was taken a back.
Della wrinkled her brow.
"I know that now."
"Are that at the office still?"
She was suddenly overcome by a fit of coughs and shakes. Perry jumped up and called for the doctor. A nurse ushered Perry out of the room and told him to come back later.
Perry's hands tightened into fists as he banged through the hospital doors and left. Someone had poisoned Della. And no one was going to get away with that!