Blondes' Requiem

VII

I stopped my car outside of a two-storey, grey stone building with a large display window, the upper portion of which was decorated with gold lettering, reading Cranville Mortuary. There was an oak coffin on trestles in the window and nearby was a large black and white check bowl containing stiff, wax-like lilies.

The glass-panelled door opened softly under my hand. The air of the purple-carpeted reception room smelt of embalming fluid, aromatic, sweet and sickening. I closed the door and glanced uneasily around. The imitation ebony coffin with ornate silver handles that stood against the opposite wall and the smell of death in the place gave me a spooky feeling.

At the back of the room was a black velvet curtain hanging from a brass rail. It obviously hid a door. As I stood waiting, the curtain was drawn aside and a man appeared. He looked like something that had escaped from a freak show. His face was bloodless and his frame was as bony as a skeleton’s. Thin straw-coloured hair was oiled flat to his skull and his black, sunken eyes burned like hot coal.

He eyed me suspiciously and asked in a soft, timbreless voice if he could help me.

He looked so much like a ghoul that for a moment I could only stare at him. “Mr. Esslinger in?” I asked at last, pulling myself together with an effort.

“Who shall I say wants him?” the man returned, motionless and forbidding.

“Tell him an operative of the International Investigations would welcome a word with him,” I said, taking out a packet of Lucky Strike, but watching him closely.

He looked away from me, but not before I saw fear in his eyes. “I’ll tell him,” he said, “but he’s busy right now.”

“I’m in no hurry.” I flipped a match across the room. “Just tell him who wants him arid I’ll stick around.”

He gave me a long, hard stare and then went away. I dragged down a lungful of smoke and waited. After a while I wandered over to the imitation ebony coffin and examined it. It was a nice job and I wondered vaguely if it would fit me. It seemed a little too narrow, although the length would take me all right. After I’d been over it for a few minutes and exhausted its interests I went over to a framed notice hanging on the wall giving prices of coffins and their various styles. I was surprised to find how cheaply you could be put underground.

“You wanted to see me?” a voice asked softly behind me.

I didn’t jump more than a foot.

Max Esslinger was an older edition of his son. His face was more lined and his eyes more thoughtful than Ted’s but the likeness was remarkable.

“Maybe you’ve heard of me,” I said. “I’ve been working for Wolf up to this morning.”

He smiled and put out his hand. “Why, of course,” he said, in a pleasing baritone voice. “You’re the detective from New York, aren’t you? I’m glad to know you. Aren’t you working for Mr. Wolf anymore?”

I shook hands, feeling a little blank. “We had a difference of opinion,” I said, with a grin, “and I quit.”

Esslinger shook his head. “I’m afraid Wolf’s a difficult man to get along with. I’ve known him for a long time. Come into my office. We can talk there without being disturbed.”

I followed him through the door which was hidden by the black velvet curtain, down a passage, past a couple of doors and into a pleasant, well-furnished room.

He waved me to an armchair and sat down behind a large flat-topped desk.

“Now, Mr. Spewack, what can I do for you?” he asked, pulling open a drawer and taking out a box of cigars.

I shook my head. “Not for me,” I said, setting fire to my cigarette. “As I was saying, I quit working for Wolf this morning. I’m interested in this case, Mr. Esslinger, and I wonder if you’ve any objection if I worked with Miss Sheridan. It wouldn’t cost you anything. Wolf’s taken care of the financial angle and he’s not getting his money back. I’d like to clear up this business before I returned to New York.”

I was surprised to see his face brighten. “That would be generous of you, Mr. Spewack. I must confess I am very worried that nothing so far has been done. I am more than anxious to get the matter cleared up myself.”

There was no doubt of his sincerity, and I remembered what Audrey had said about it not being possible for him to have had anything to do with the missing girls. There was something about Esslinger that more or less convinced me that she was right.

“That’s fine,” I said. “Frankly, I was expecting some opposition from you. I heard you wanted Miss Sheridan to have a free hand.”

He stared at me, puzzled. “Why, no,” he said. “Of course, when heard Wolf had engaged an expert and was hoping to make political capital out of this dreadful affair, I had to take similar steps. But I assure you, Mr. Spewack, I won’t rest until these girls have been found or their murder has been brought to justice.”

I eyed him thoughtfully. “It’s murder,” I said slowly. “There can be no mistake about that.” I went on to tell him about Marian French.

He laid down his cigar when I had finished and I could see he was obviously shaken. “Who can be responsible for such a horrible crime?” he asked. “I can’t believe anyone in Cranville could deliberately murder innocent girls without any motive whatsoever. It’s unbelievable.”

“Maybe there is a motive,” I said, flicking ash on his nice pile carpet. “That’s something I’m going to work on. Either there’s a motive or the killer’s a homicidal lunatic — a sex killer.”

“You say this poor girl’s body has disappeared?” Esslinger asked. “But how could it? Where was it taken?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said, “but that’s another thing I’m going to find out.” I paused, then shot out: “Why did you engage Audrey Sheridan in the first place? I understand no one in Cranville ever thought she’d crack this case?”

Just for a moment I caught a look of caution in his eyes, but it had gone almost before I could register the fact. “I don’t think I quite understand what you mean,” he said; there was a cold note in his voice.

“I think you do, Mr. Esslinger” I said. “Audrey Sheridan’s a nice kid. I like her. I like her a lot, but she hasn’t any experience in this game. I don’t mind telling you she gummed up a number of leads I was working on because she was so keen to crack this case by herself. But this kind of a case can’t be cracked by a woman. It’s too tough. Why did you hire her?”

A faint flush had spread over his face. He picked up his cigar, examined it, found it had gone out, and lit it. “I was confident Miss Sheridan was capable of finding the missing girls,” he said at last. “You must remember, Mr. Spewack, that there was no question at that time that the girls had been murdered.”

I eyed him and he looked away. “Baloney!” I said, curtly. “But if you don’t want to come clean, I can’t make you—”

“But I assure you—” he began.

I raised my hand. “Forget it,” I said. “When I first saw you I thought you were a straight guy. But now I’m not so sure. You had a reason for putting Audrey Sheridan on this case, and it wasn’t because you thought she could find the missing girls. There was some other reason. Maybe you didn’t want them found, and by hiring Audrey you knew damn well they wouldn’t be found!”

He sat up. “How dare you say a thing like that!” he snapped angrily. “Audrey Sheridan’s the owner of the only detective agency in Cranville. It was only natural that I’d go to her.”

“Yeah?” I said, shaking my head. “There are plenty of agencies with big reputations not so far away who’d have been glad to handle this case. They wouldn’t have cost you much more than Audrey Sheridan and they’d have got a hell of a lot more results. I’m not satisfied, Mr. Esslinger.”

He controlled himself with an effort and leaned back in his chair. “I think you’re exaggerating the position,” he said, with forced calm. “My conscience is clear that I’ve done the best with the means I had at my disposal. I’m more than willing that you should continue with the case, and if necessary I should be prepared to finance you.”

“Okay,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette. “I still think there’s something at the back of all this, but I’m going ahead. What chances do you think you have of becoming mayor?”

He eyed me steadily. I could see he had his nerve back and he was now on his guard. “I don’t imagine I’ll have much trouble with Wolf,” he returned, pursing his lips. “He’s not popular in town, and now you have ceased to work for him I doubt if he’ll succeed in his plan to find the girls.”

“Is Macey likely to put up another candidate now Starkey’s out of the way?”

He shrugged. “He might. I don’t know.”

“Who’s the skinny guy I met outside?”

His face clouded. “You mean Elmer? Elmer Hench? He’s my brother-in-law. He runs the business for me. I have little to do with it now. Politics take up too much of my time.”

I stood up. “Well, I guess that’s about all, Mr. Esslinger,” I said. “From now on I’m going to get some action. You’ll be seeing me again.”

He didn’t move. “I have every confidence in you,” he said, staring down at his snowy blotter. “I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

“That’s one thing you can be sure of,” I said shortly, and turned to the door. Then I paused.

A woman was standing in the doorway. How long she had been there I had no idea. She was tall, grey-haired, and her moist eyes had the sympathetic expression of wet stones. She wore a black silk dress that hung on her like a sack and there were jet buttons in her ears. When she spoke her voice had a hard baritone quality and sounded as if it didn’t want any nonsense. “Who is it?” she asked Max Esslinger.

“Mr. Spewack — the New York detective,” Esslinger said, his eyes, tired and uneasy, on the woman’s face. To me, he said: “This is my wife.”

There was no gladness or pride in his voice when he said it. The flatness of his tone, the look in his eyes, hinted of some secret despair.

Mrs. Esslinger looked at me and she moistened her lips with the tip of a pale-pink tongue. There was something rather horrible about that tongue. It reminded me of the soft belly of a slug.

“What do you want?” she said.

“It’s all right,” Esslinger broke in quickly. “He’s going now. He wanted to help Miss Sheridan. Wolf doesn’t want him to work for him anymore.”

Mrs. Esslinger’s bloodless hands folded, the fingers of her right hand holding the back of her left hand. “Audrey doesn’t need any help,” she said. “Tell him to go away.”

“I’m going,” I said, stepping past her to the door. There was something frightening about this big, vicious-looking woman. I could see the likeness between her and her brother. They were both bony, sharp-nosed, and the bloodless, cruel mouths were identical.

“I don’t like spies in my house,” she said, as I reached the door, “so don’t come here again.”

I went down the passage, through the door curtained by the velvet drapes and into the reception room.

Elmer Hench stood by the imitation ebony coffin, his long, thin, bony hands clasped in front of him and his head on one side as if he had been listening for some time.

He followed me across the room with his eyes, but neither of us said anything.

I opened the front door and, taking a deep breath, stepped into the sunshine and the noise of the traffic.

I left word with the desk clerk for Reg and Audrey to meet me at Joe’s Bar, a couple of blocks away from the hotel.

When I got to Joe’s liar, just after seven o’clock, there were only a few customers in the place and no one in the small restaurant at the back.

I told the barman I was going through to the restaurant and if anyone asked for me that’s where I’d be. He said, “Okay”, and I went into the back room, found a table in a corner away from the entrance and sat down.

A waitress in a blue overall came over as soon as I’d settled. She asked if I’d like the special dinner.

“I’m waiting for friends,” I explained. “Maybe you could get me a drink.”

When she smiled I saw she had nice teeth, and en looking at her more closely I found she had one of those figures that make truck-drivers have accidents.

“What would you like?” she asked, leaning over me. Her perfume made me dizzy.

I said I’d have a large whisky straight and watched her cross the room to the bar. Her figure seemed to run after her in excited little jerks.

Before she came back with the whisky, Reg blew in. He grinned when he saw me and pulled out a chair. “I’m starving,” he said, flopping down. “This sleuthing gnaws at my vitals.”

“Never mind your vitals,” I said. “Have you found anything?”

The waitress came back before he could tell me. She said, “Hello, Pinkie,” to Reg, who turned red. She put the whisky beside me.

I looked at Reg inquiringly. “What’ll you drink?” I asked.

“Don’t encourage him,” the waitress said, giving Reg a patronizing smile. “I’ll get him a coke.”

I watched her figure with interest until she was out of sight and then said: “Friend of yours?”

He snorted. “She lives in our house,” he said, scowling. “Just because she’s got nice teeth she thinks I’m crazy about her.”

“Teeth aren’t everything,” I said, and then: “How did you get on?”

He ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Ted’s known at the Street-Camera Studio,” he said. “He’s been there a number of times and he did buy some photographs. The dame there doesn’t remember whether the pictures were of the missing girls or not.”

“Couldn’t you refresh her memory?”

He shrugged. “She’s dumb,” he said, in disgust. “You know the type of dame. She wouldn’t remember when she had her last meal.”

“How come she remembers Ted going there?”

“He made a play for her,” Reg returned. “That guy goes for the dames in a big way. She thought he bought the pictures as an excuse to call on her.”

“Haven’t you any details?” I asked, rolling a cigarette across the tablecloth to him.

“He started coming to the shop a month or so ago. He got friendly with this dame — she fell for him in a big way — and he used to pick up one or two pictures of girls that were lying on the counter. After he’d kidded her for a while, he’d pay for the pictures and beat it. She was in such a trance she never noticed what the pictures were.”

“He didn’t give her a ticket then?”

Reg shook his head. “No, I guess he was too smart for that. I did find out the pictures taken on the previous day were always displayed on the counter. It looks like he’s the guy, but it’ll be difficult to pin it on him.”

I grunted. “That doesn’t get us very far,” I said. “What else did you find out?”

Reg let smoke drift down his nostrils. “I called on a friend of his. A guy named Roger Kirk. He and Ted go around together. He knows me, but he didn’t open up. I think maybe you might have a talk with him.”

I looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s on your mind?”

“This guy Kirk might know how involved Ted was with the missing girls. If you could scare him enough to talk, you might find something to work on.”

“It’s an idea,” I said, “but we’ve got to watch out step. If Kirk tips Ted that we’re suspicious of him, it might gum up the works. After all, Esslinger’s going to be the big noise in this town if I’m not mistaken, and we’ll have to watch out. But still, I don’t think we can afford to pass up any lead. I’ll see what I can do about Kirk.”

“I’ll leave him to you,” Reg said, shifting restlessly on his chair. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”

“When Audrey comes,” I said, finishing my drink. “What do you know about Elmer Hench?”

“That guy?” Reg screwed up his face. “He gives me the heebies. Did you ever see such a guy? They ought to put him in movies.”

“But do you know anything about him?”

“Not much, he runs the Funeral Parlour for Esslinger. I’ve heard it said he’s a pretty smart mortician. He specializes in embalming. By the time he’s through with a corpse you’d think it was alive. I haven’t seen any of his work and I don’t want to, but it’s supposed to be good.”

“Mrs. Esslinger’s his sister, isn’t she?”

Reg nodded. “Nice pair,” he said. “She got him the job when Esslinger went in for politics and he’s stuck ever since. I’m sorry for Esslinger having a ghoul like that around.”

“Is it right Mrs. Esslinger drinks?” I asked. “Dixon said so, but she doesn’t look a drinker to me.”

Reg shrugged. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “She’s queer. Esslinger’s scared of her.”

“How do you mean?”

“She runs him and the business. I did hear she made Esslinger stand for politics. Of course, she’s crazy about Ted, but I guess you know that.”

I shook my head. “From what I saw of her, she wouldn’t be crazy about anyone. I don’t like her. She makes me feel spooked.”

The waitress came back with Reg’s coke. “Are you eating yet?” she asked.

“Gee!” Reg protested as I shook my head. “Where the hell’s Audrey? Didn’t I tell you I’m starving?”

“Okay,” I said, “two special dinners.” When the waitress had gone away, I went on: “Now I wonder if that kid’s got into trouble again.”

Reg looked past me and grinned. “Not this time,” he said. “Here she comes.”

I turned in my chair.

Audrey, looking nice in an apple-green dress and large white hat, was coming across the room. Her eyes were alight with excitement. As I stood up I knew something had happened. “What is it?” I asked.

She laid a blue ticket on the white tablecloth. “That was given to me just now,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

I didn’t have to look at the ticket twice. I knew what it was even before I read the caption at the top:

I sat down slowly and stared across at Audrey, feeling the blood leaving my face.

“Now don’t fly off the handle,” she said, smiling at me. “You ought to be pleased. Isn’t this just the chance we’ve been waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” I asked sharply, trying to shake off the first effects of the shock. “If you think you’re going to monkey around with this, you’re crazy.”

She sighed and looked at Reg for support. “What’s the matter with the man?” she asked. “Here’s something that’ll lead us straight to the killer and he tells me I’m crazy.”

Even Reg was looking agitated. “Listen, sister,” he said gently. “The guy loves you.”

It was Audrey’s turn to look startled. “Why, I thought it was a secret,” she said, with an embarrassed laugh.

“So did I,” I said, grimly.

“Why, a blind man with an abscess in his ear would know the sucker’s fallen for you,” Reg told her scornfully. “Where did you get this from?” He picked up the card and examined it.

Audrey put her bag on the table and lit a cigarette. “A man took my photograph this afternoon,” she said lightly. “I was with Ted Esslinger and he had his photograph taken too.”

The waitress came back with the special dinners. She eyed Audrey a little enviously. “Same for you?” she asked.

I pushed my plate over to Audrey. “You have it,” I said. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Audrey said: “But you must eat. You mustn’t worry about me.”

“I’m all right,” I said shortly, and to the waitress: “I’ll have another Scotch.”

“What love does for a guy,” Reg said shaking his head. “If ever I go off my food, I’ll know what it is.”

“You shut up,” I said, annoyed. “I’ve got things on my mind.”

“You certainly have,” Reg returned, bolting his food like he hadn’t had a meal all day. “Eat up,” he went on to Audrey, “this is swell.”

I tapped the blue ticket. “I don’t like this,” I said. “From now on, Reg, you’re not to let Audrey out of your sight.”

Reg glanced up, pursed his mouth in a soundless whistle and grinned. “Suits me,” he said. “When do you take a bath?” he went on, giving Audrey a leer.

“Oh no,” she said firmly, “none of that. So you think I can’t take care of myself, Mr. Marc Spewack?”

“That sounds like famous last words,” I returned. “I tell you I don’t like it, Audrey. From now on you’re having a bodyguard.”

“And what a guard!” Reg muttered under his breath. “And boy! What a body!”

“If you don’t take this seriously,” I told him, “I’ll twist your goddam neck. You’re to watch Audrey, do you understand? If anything happens to her, you’re done for.”

Reg laid down his fork. “You don’t honestly think the frill’s in danger?” he asked, astonished.

“Don’t call me a frill,” Audrey said, indignantly. “Where are your manners?”

“I do,” I said gravely. “From now on, we’re taking no chances. Look what happened to Marian.” I turned to Audrey. “Did Ted say anything when you were photographed?”

“He seemed a bit scared,” Audrey returned. “He said I’d have to be careful.”

I snorted. “I bet he did. Well, we’ll be careful all right. What else did you get out of him?”

Audrey shook her head. “Not much,” she said ruefully. “In fact nothing at all.”

I looked front her to Reg. “It strikes me neither of you are worth the money I’m paying you. Didn’t you find out if he had an alibi for the night of the murder?”

Audrey stopped eating. “Now look, Mr. Spewack,” she said, hotly, “if you’re going to be superior I’ll quit and work on my own.”

“And a long way you’ll get if you do,” I said, grinning. “But seriously, didn’t you even find that out?”

“I did not,” she said. “He wouldn’t talk. I try to lead up to it, but he closed down like a clam. But he did ask me to go out with him tomorrow night.”

I took the whisky from the waitress and thanked her. After the others had ordered ice cream and the waitress had gone away, I said: “You mean he’s made a date?”

Audrey nodded. “I may not be much of a detective, but I’ve still got my sex appeal,” she said.

“Take me over it slowly,” I said. “You and Ted are childhood pals, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Reg said scornfully. “A guy can go to high school with a dame, pull her hair, pour ink over her and then suddenly he gets singing in his ears and he falls for her, It’s happened to me.”

“Will you pipe down?” I said, shortly. “When I want extracts from your love-life I’ll ask for them.”

“Don’t quarrel, you two,” Audrey said, hastily. “Ted and I haven’t mixed for years. I just happened to work on him and he’s interested.”

“That’s a laugh!” Reg said bitterly. “What a word — interested And in ordinary circumstances the guy wouldn’t look at a girl.”

I finished up my Scotch as the waitress brought the ice cream, so I ordered another.

“You’ve got a thirst, haven’t you?” Reg asked, staring.

“I’m laying a foundation,” I said. “There’s a job we have to do tonight and it won’t be a pleasant one.”

“So you’re loading up enough liquor for the three of us, is that it?” Reg asked, pushing his coke away in disgust.

“You’ve got it,” I returned, “but we’ll fix Audrey first.” I turned to her. “What are you up to?”

“Can’t you see? If Ted’s the killer, this is the one way we can trap him. When I was photographed I knew what I had to do I started working on Ted and he fell for it. We’ve the same set-up now that led to the other killings. I’m Ted’s new girlfriend. I’ve been photographed. My photograph will appear in the Street-Camera Studio window, and it only needs me to disappear. The wheel’s turned a full circle. Only this time I don’t intend to disappear.”

I thought about this. “Maybe you’ll be safe until the picture appears in the Street-Camera Studio window. It may not. If it does, then we mustn’t leave you for a second.”

“It will appear,” Audrey said. “I telephoned them and fixed it. They’re making a special enlargement and have promised to put it in their window.”

Reg looked at her admiringly. “You’ve got guts,” he said. “Now maybe we’ll get somewhere.”

I didn’t like any of this, bet it was no use raising objections.

“Okay, kid,” I said, “we’ll stick close to you. Where are you meeting Ted tomorrow night?”

“He’s calling for me. He said something about dinner and a dance, but there was nothing decided.”

I looked at Reg. “We three are going over to the Cranville cemetery when it gets dark. I want to look around. Then you take Audrey back to the hotel and stick with her. I’m going to take a look at Esslinger’s Funeral Parlour.”

“Listen,” Audrey said, leaning forward. “Why don’t you also have a look at Ted’s bedroom? He told me he’d be late tonight. We could go over there now.”

“You can’t do that,” Reg said hastily. “If we’re caught Esslinger’ll stick the cops on us.”

“Do you know where his room’s located?” I asked, thinking it was a good idea. “Can I reach it without trouble?”

Audrey nodded. “It’s at the back,” she said. “You could do it easily. Come on, I’ll drive you over now.”

I pushed back my chair. “Okay,” I said, “let’s go.”

Reg groaned. “You’re sticking your neck out,” he said. “Hench and Mrs. E. will be in the house. You don’t think they’ll let you get away with this, do you?”

“Don’t be chicken-hearted, Pinkie,” I grinned, and led the way out.

Esslinger’s house was a modest, two-storey building on the outer limits of the town. It stood on its own small plot of land and was hidden from the other houses by a tall box-hedge.

In the rapidly falling darkness Audrey brought us to the back of the house along a narrow, deserted road. It was after ten o’clock by the time we had reached the house, and although the upper floor was in darkness, lights blazed from a room on the ground floor.

Audrey stopped the car and we all got out.

“That’s his room, there,” she whispered, pointing to a small window that projected from the sloping roof. “All you have to do is to walk tip the garden path, climb the pipe-stack and you’ll be on the roof. It’s easy to walk up to the window from there.”

“Who do you think he is — Tarzan of the Apes?” Reg muttered.

“Okay,” I said. “You wait here. If you see anything moving, sound the horn.”

Audrey slipped her hand in mine. “You will be careful, won’t you? I mean I don’t want you to break your neck.”

I looked down at her, wishing Reg was out of the way. “Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ll be all right.”

“If you two want to be more intimate, don’t worry about me,” Reg said sarcastically. “I can stand it if you can.”

I put my hand over his face and gave him a shove, then with a quick smile at Audrey I swung myself over the fence and dropped onto the soft ground of the flower-bed.

Keeping in the shadows, I moved silently up the garden. The light from the sitting room blazed on to the lawn and I could see, before I reached the house, I would have to pass right through this patch of light. As I drew nearer, I slowed my pace, and finally, just outside the edge of light, I stopped and peered into the silting-room.

Mrs. Esslinger sat facing me. She was sitting in a large armchair and she was knitting. Although her fingers guided the needles with what seemed to me an incredible speed, her eyes stared out of the window. She seemed to be staring right at me and the fixed, cold expression in her eyes gave me a spooky feeling. I instinctively ducked back into the darkness. I waited for a moment, wondering if she had seen me, and then as nothing happened I peered into the room again.

She still stared out of the window, but I was sure now that she couldn’t see me out there in the darkness. But I would have to be careful how I crossed the patch of light.

I went down on my hands and knees and, moving slowly, crawled into the patch of light. I felt naked for those few seconds it took me to reach the cover of the shadows.

I stood up as I neared the house and listened. Nothing happened. Except for a car that roared past the front of the house, there was no sound. But I made no move. I leaned against the wooden rails of the verandah and waited.

Nothing happened for a long minute, then I saw a shadow on the lawn, near me. Mrs. Esslinger was standing at the window. The light from the room threw her shadow in a long, distorted shape on the close-clipped grass. My heart began to thump steadily and suddenly my mouth went dry.

I pressed myself further against the verandah, knowing it was dark enough where I stood, but I was scared. There was no time to analyse this feeling of fear. Somewhere in my subconscious I was astonished at being so scared. Mrs. Esslinger was certainly bad for my nerves.

I waited there, hardly breathing and in a chill of a cold sweat. The shadow moved suddenly and then I saw Mrs. Esslinger’s head. She was peering into the garden, silently and intently. I knew she was listening.

She was so close to me that if I had taken three steps towards I could have touched her. If she turned her head and looked in my direction, I felt sure she would see me. It was the worse few seconds I’ve ever experienced.

She suddenly seemed satisfied that no one was in the garden, for she disappeared from the window and abruptly drew the curtains. The garden was plunged into complete darkness, and for a few seconds I could see nothing. Then gradually my eyes became used to the darkness and the house took shape again.

I hesitated about entering the house, wondering where Hench was, wondering if Mrs. Esslinger had gone upstairs. That was something I had to find out.

Moving cautiously, I approached the window. The curtains were tightly closed across the window, but the window itself was open. I leaned forward, my heart banging against my ribs, and listened. At the back of my mind I wondered if Mrs. Esslinger was standing behind the curtains waiting to spring out on me. Just the thought of that made my knees knock together. Very faintly, I heard the clicking of knitting needles and I quietly stepped away from the window.

If I was going to get into the house, I must do so quickly. There were no other lights showing, and I hoped both Esslinger and Hench were out.

I found the stack-pipe Audrey had told me about. It was at the far end of the house away from the room where Mrs. Esslinger was sitting. I tested it and found it strong enough to take my weight. Before making the climb I took off my shoes and then, gripping the pipe in both hands, I edged my way up the side of the house.

It took me only a few moments to reach the sloping roof, and hooking my fingers in the gutter I drew myself up on to the tiles. I was sweating with the exertion, and it was only then that I realized the night had become hot and oppressive. Although the moon rode high, a black cloud-bank was moving slowly on the horizon and it looked to me as if a storm were blowing up.

I stood on the roof and looked across the garden into the road. I could see the car parked not far away and the dim outlines of Audrey and Reg watching me. I raised my hand and they waved back. Then I turned and walked carefully up the gentle slope of the roof towards Ted’s bedroom window.

The window was uncurtained and the room was in darkness. I got my fingers under the window-frame and pushed it up. It opened noiselessly and I peered into the room. The light from the moon was sufficient for me to see the room was empty. It was a hard, bare masculine room with a polished wood floor, a couple of small rugs in an Indian design, two straight chairs, a bureau in dark-grained wood with a man’s toilet set and black candles in foot-high brass candlesticks.

The bed was narrow and looked hard and had a dark-green cover. The room felt cold.

I across the windowsill and walked to the door. I opened it a few inches and listened. No sound came to me. Then I shut the door, took a small wooden wedge from my pocket and forced it into the chink between the door and the floor. I wasn’t taking chances of anyone coming in and catching me off-guard.

I went immediately to the bureau and began going through the drawers. The last drawer gave me what I wanted. In a corner, under a pile of silk shirts, I found a packet of photographs. I took them to the window and in the light of the moon I saw they were the photographs of the missing girls. I felt blood hammering against my temples as I looked down at the calm, attractive face of Marian French.

I shoved the photographs into my pocket and turned back to the bureau. As I did so I paused, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stiffening.

The moonlight was now shining directly on the white painted door and I distinctly saw the handle slowly turn. Then the door moved, but immediately stopped as the wedge held it.

That was enough for me. Silently I stepped to the window, swung my leg over the sill and got on to the roof. I waved once to Reg, who waved back, and then I half slid, half slithered to the gutter. My legs went over the edge of the roof and hung in space while I got a grip on the gutter. I hung for a moment, my heart pounding and fear catching at my belly. Then I dropped silently into the garden, staggered, recovered my balance and stood up. A moment later I had wedged my feet into my shoes and, not pausing to tie the laces, I turned to run down the garden path.

Without warning a sudden swishing sound made me duck. I felt something hit against my shoulder. I had one horrified glimpse of a noosed cord falling to the ground and then I spun on my heel and ran.

I blundered across the garden, fell over the fence and landed almost at Reg’s feet.

“Come on!” I panted. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

Audrey had started the engine and I scrambled into the seat beside her. Reg tumbled in behind us.

“Scram!” I said to Audrey. “They’ve spotted us.”

Nothing was said for the next few minutes. Audrey drove fast, concentrating on the road, while I sat limply beside her, trying to get over my fright.

“Okay,” I said at last. “Pull up here. We’re far enough away now.”

She slowed down and stopped under a street light. “You seemed in a hurry to leave,” she said, looking at me intently. “Why, good gracious, the poor man looks actually scared.”

I drew a deep breath. “Scared?” I said. “That’s an understatement. I nearly had a heart attack.”

Reg leaned forward and breathed heavily down my neck. “Dicks don’t get scared,” he said dryly. “Not New York dicks.”

“Shut up, you two,” I snapped. “This is serious. Someone was waiting for me in the garden and damn near strangled me.”

“You were dreaming,” Reg said with a snigger. “Why don’t you admit the shadows scared you and you ran away.”

“Don’t rib him, Reg,” Audrey said softly. “I believe he has had a fright.”

I took the photographs out of my pocket and dropped them in Audrey’s lap. “Take a look at this little lot,” I said grimly. “Maybe they’ll hold you two dopes for a moment.”

“Where did you get them?” Audrey asked as soon as she saw what they were.

“They were hidden under a pile of shirts in Ted’s bureau,” I said grimly. “This is the first real evidence I’ve got. They’re all there, even Marian. He’ll have to be smart to talk himself out of this.”

“You weren’t kidding about being strangled?” Audrey asked, looking at me with wide, anxious eyes.

“You bet I wasn’t,” I said, fumbling for a cigarette and offering her one. “Someone tried to lasso me. If I hadn’t ducked they’d have had me around the neck. It was quite a circus trick.” I turned to Reg. “Do you know if rope-spinning’s one of Ted’s accomplishments?”

He shook his head. “That’s a new one oh me,” he said, looking blank.

“Well, that’s the way these girls were killed,” I went on. “I’m glad it happened to me. We now know what to watch out for.”

“You didn’t see anyone, I suppose?” Audrey asked.

I shook my head. “Did Ted say where he was going tonight? If he’s the killer, then it was he who was waiting for me with the rope.”

“He told me he was spending the evening at the Ciro Club. Shall we check up?”

“You bet we’ll checkup,” I returned. “Let’s get to a drugstore where we can phone and then we’ll go on to the cemetery. You know, I’ve a feeling this case is coming to an end.”

“You really think Ted’s the killer?” Audrey asked, engaging gears and driving slowly down the dimly lit street.

“It looks like it. The photographs should be enough evidence to fry him if the case is handled right. Then this attempt to knock me off points to him again. If we can find the bodies, we ought to have a cast-iron case against him.”

A few minutes’ driving brought us to a drugstore. I told Reg to call the Ciro Club and find out if Ted was there.

While we waited in the car, I said to Audrey: “When this business is over, have you thought what you’re going to do?”

She looked away. “Not really,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll be a detective anymore. I don’t seem to be good at it.”

I put my hand over hers. “With me,” I said, “you could be very good. Why don’t you and me become partners?”

“I might consider it,” she said cautiously. “But you’re awfully domineering.”

“Not if I were your husband,” I said airily. “You’d be surprised how nice I could be. Didn’t you know I am one of the world’s great lovers?”

“I had an idea you thought you were,” she said, with a little giggle. “Although you’re the only one who does think so.”

I put my arm around her and pulled her to me. “Come on, honey,” I said. “You know you can’t get on without me — say yes.”

Reg stuck his head through the window. “For God’s sake!” he exploded. “Can’t you two keep your minds on business? The moment I leave you, you start canoodling.”

“One of these days someone’s going to take a dislike to you,” I said fiercely, hastily taking my arm away. “I didn’t think you’d be so quick.”

He opened the car door and scrambled in. “I made a rush job of it,” he said with a leer. “Why should you be the only one to have fun and games?”

“Well, come on, you lug,” I said. “Is he still there?”

“No, and what’s more, he hasn’t been there all evening. What do you make of that?”

Audrey and I exchanged glances.

“Okay,” I said. “It looks like we’re on the right track. Let’s go — Cranville cemetery first stop.”

We came upon the burial-ground as a distant clock struck twelve. Overhead, torn, black clouds obscured the moon and distant thunder rumbled ominously.

“We only want Bella Lugosi with us and it’d be a picnic,” Reg said, his teeth beginning to chatter.

“Shut up,” I said, peering out of the car window. “That’s no way to talk so near the dead. Where’s your respect?”

Audrey pressed her foot down on the brake pedal and the car stopped. “What now?” she said, looking a little fearfully at the tall gloomy walls surrounding the burial-ground.

I opened the car door and stepped out. The air was still and oppressive. I could smell rain and, far to the east, I could see faint flashes of lightning.

“Before very long,” I said, glancing up and down the deserted road, “we’re going to have a storm.”

“Never mind about the storm,” Reg said, climbing out of the car and standing beside me. “It’s this joint that worries me!”

“Forget it,” I said sharply, feeling spooked myself. “What’s a graveyard between friends?”

Before he could think up a suitable reply I walked over to the massive iron gates and pushed. They swung open with a harsh squeak that made my nerves tingle.

“Okay,” I called to Audrey. “Can you drive in?”

The car edged its way through the gateway and stopped in the middle of the centre lane of the graveyard.

I closed the iron gates and told Audrey to put out the car lights.

The heavy scent of graveyard flowers hung in the air. Underfoot, cinders crunched and sounded to me like firecrackers. A faint mist rose from the graveyard. In the shadows of tombstones and willow trees it was like smoke.

Audrey and Reg stood close to me. They didn’t like this place any more than I did.

“What the hell have you brought us here for?” Reg whispered, looking furtively to right and left. “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to look at the register,” I said, pointing to the attendant’s white lodge that stood back from the gates. “I want to see who’s been buried lately.”

“What a guy for ideas!” Reg sighed. “Couldn’t you have done that during the day? Why pick on midnight?”

“Use your head,” I said shortly. “If I had done that I’d have told the killer the game was up.”

Audrey stared at me. “You really think you’re going to find something?” she asked.

“Unless I’ve got it all wrong,” I returned, “I’m going to find the missing girls tonight.”

Reg drew a deep breath. “I’m scared,” he said, in a small voice. “I suppose no one thought of bringing some liquor?”

“There’s a half pint flask in the car,” Audrey said. “I’ll get it.”

We all had a drink, but it didn’t help much. Thunder rumbled.

It sounded nearer; and lightning lit up the graveyard with faint yellow flashes.

“Let’s get it over,” I said, and walked down the lane towards the lodge.

I had to break a window before I could get in. Audrey and Reg climbed in after me. After a few minutes’ search I came upon a leather-bound book.

“This is it,” I said, putting the book on the table. “Hold the light, Reg, so I can see.”

In the bright white beam of the flashlight, with thunder crackling overhead and Audrey and Reg jostling against me, I opened the register at the last page and began to read. The evidence was there for anyone who knew the facts.

There had been only two burials during the past ten weeks, but on a page headed ‘Private Crypts’ was the damning evidence:

“What the hell does it mean?” Reg whispered, staring at the names blankly.

“Know any of these people?” I asked, looking first at him and then at Audrey.

They both shook their heads.

“Don’t you see how it was done?” I said. “These names have been faked to fool the graveyard attendant. Come on, we’re going to take a look at Crypt Twelve.”

Audrey’s sudden scream was drowned by a violent crash of thunder. She clutched at me, making my heart jump wildly.

“Someone was looking through the window,” she said, fearfully. “I saw a face... pressed against the glass.”

I pushed her to one side and ran to the window. It was now as dark as the inside of a closet. I put my head out of the window and listened, but apart from the wind moaning in the trees I could hear nothing. Then all sound was blotted out again by another crashing clap of thunder.

I turned back into the room. “Are you sure you saw someone?” I asked.

Audrey shivered. “It looked like a face. I only caught a glimpse of it, but it did really look like someone was watching us.”

Reg’s face had gone the colour of a fish’s belly. “Let’s get outa here,” he said unevenly. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“Not before we’ve seen Crypt Twelve,” I said obstinately. “The key must be around here some place.”

The other two stood a little helplessly, glancing fearfully from time to time at the window while I searched for the key. I found it eventually with a number of others hanging on a board behind the door.

“Here it is,” I said, checking the number burnt on a big wooden tag. “Let’s go.”

“I hate going out into that darkness,” Reg said, nervously looking out of the window.

“You can stay right here if you want to,” I said, sliding my leg over the sill, “but I’m going to look at that crypt.”

“We’ll come with you,” Audrey said hastily. “I couldn’t stand being left here alone.”

With the beam of the flashlight to show us the way, I went on ahead, the others behind me. I had no idea where Crypt Twelve was located, but I was going to find it.

We had walked some way before we came to the first crypt. That was numbered 7. There seemed no system or plan in the numbers. The next crypt we came to was 23 and the next one was 15.

A sudden zigzag of brilliant lightning made us all duck, but the thunder was seconds behind the flash. Then it came with a tremendous clap that sent Audrey staggering against me.

“Oh, I don’t like this!” she wailed, clinging to me.

“Hitch up your girdle,” I said, giving her a quick hug, “we’ve got to go through with it.”

On we went, across new grass, circling tombstones, along cinder paths, down grassy inclines, trampling over flowerbeds and ploughing across freshly dug earth. It was a nightmare journey; looking for a needle stuck in a wall in a dark room. All the time thunder drummed a muffled march for the dead.

Then suddenly we found it. We found it just when I was going to give up. We were all tired, hot and frightened. Out of the blackness suddenly caught a glimpse of something white: There before me was large marble crypt fenced in by iron railings. The beam of my flashlight picked out the number — 12.

“For God’s sake,” I said. “Here we are.”

A long, jagged streak of lightning lit up the graveyard for one blinding second. I could see Audrey and Reg near me, their faces white and their eyes wide. To the right of me was the white crypt and beyond, some fifty paces away, was Elmer Hench.

I saw all this in the one brief brilliant second and then we were in black darkness again. Instinctively, I had my gun in my fist.

“Wait,” I shouted to Reg, and ran forward.

I cursed the feebleness of the flashlight beam. It was like a pinprick in a strip of black velvet held against a light.

There was no sign of Elmer Hench, but I knew he was there. I had seen him, tall, bony and frightening, like a lost spirit risen from a rave to rebuke us for intruding.

Sweat, cold and clammy, plastered my shirt to my back. I was really scared. This was a fear that dried my mouth, chilled my blood and turned my legs to water.

It was useless to try to find him. He might be anywhere. He might be behind me, in front of me or at my side. He might even have an away.

I turned back and reached Reg and Audrey, who were standing by the crypt, stiff with alarm,

“What are you playing at?” Reg said, his teeth chattering.

“Hench is in the graveyard,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I saw him.”

Reg stared into the darkness. “That ghoul!” he gasped. “Well, let’s get outa here. I’ve had enough.”

I shoved my gun into his hand. “We’re going into the crypt,” I said, “and you’re seeing that Hench doesn’t disturb us. That’s your job.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever make a detective,” he returned, his voice quavering. “I think I’ll resign.”

I wasn’t listening to him. With shaking fingers I shoved the key in the lock on the iron gate and turned it. With Audrey at my heels, I ached the door of the crypt. Using the same key, I unlocked the massive marble door and pushed. It opened slowly and together we walked down two steps into the vault. The cloying odour of dead flowers and the smell of death came to us.

Audrey put a cold hand in mine. “I’m so frightened,” she said.

“Shush!” I whispered, listening.

Thunder crashed over our heads, died away and then rumbled in the distance.

I could hear Audrey breathing near me. The fan shaped beam of the flashlight travelled around the square room. I could see shelves and on each shelf was a coffin. I counted five of them.

“Where’s Reg?” I asked, not moving, but staring at the coffins in a fever of excitement and nerves,

“At the door,” Audrey said, her voice high-pitched and unnatural.

“Take it easy, kid,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. “We’ll be out of here in a moment.” I turned back to the door, where I could see Reg staring tensely into the darkness. “Keep your eyes skinned, Reg,” I whispered. “If you see anything you don’t like, shoot.”

“For the love of Mike, get a jerk into it,” he pleaded. “I’m losing stones this way.”

I knew how he felt. I was feeling the same way myself. The idea of Elmer Hench waiting out there in the darkness made me jumpy. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I could have seen him, but the darkness and the thunder and Elmer Hench were a little too much.

I gave Audrey my flashlight. “Just stay where you are and hold the light so I can see,” I said. “I am going to open up one of these coffins.”

I heard her catch her breath. “No... don’t!” she said. “Marc... please... that’s horrible! You can’t do that.”

I took from my hip pocket a long thin screwdriver I had brought from the car. “I have to do it, honey,” I said. “There’s no other way around it.”

I left her and went over to the broad shelf opposite me. On it rested two mahogany coffins. Their silver handles gleamed in the bright beam of the flashlight.

As I tried to read what was engraved on the small brass plate screwed on the top of the coffin the light began to bob up and down.

I turned and looked back at Audrey. She had gone very white and I thought she was going to faint. I sprang across to her and put my arm around her.

“Gee, I’m sorry,” I said, gently. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. Look, go and stand near Reg.”

She shook her head. “I’m all right,” she said, clinging to me. “It’s just the air in here, and... and I’m scared. I’ll sit down, I’ll be all right in a moment.”

I took the flashlight from her and sat her down near the door on the bottom marble step.

“What’s going on?” Reg asked, his voice unsteady.

“You watch out for Hench,” I said. “Never mind what’s going on here.”

“I’m watching,” he returned. “It’s as black as coal out here and even the lightning’s stopped. I wish to hell you’d get through with this business. I want to go home.”

“Can you stick with it for five minutes?” I said to Audrey. “I shan’t be longer than that.”

“Of course,” she said, but she was looking so white she scared me.

Taking the flashlight, I went back to the coffins again. I was scared myself, but if I wanted to crack this case I had to go through with the business.

I read the plate on the first coffin. It simply said: Harry MacClay. 1900–1945. I began the gruesome task of unscrewing the coffin-lid. My hands were slippery with sweat and unsteady with fear. The screwdriver kept slipping out of the groove in the screw and once it slipped so badly it scored a long cut across the polished surface of the coffin. Thunder rumbled in the distance. That, the creaking of the screws as they came out and my heavy breathing were the only sounds in the damp, musty-smelling vault.

At last I had got all the screws out and I stood back, almost too scared to go further. The beam of the flashlight lit up one side of the vault and threw my shadow across the face of the wall. I put the screwdriver down on the shelf and wiped my hands with my handkerchief.

Audrey said in a low voice: “What is it?”

I glanced back at her. She stood up and moved a few steps forward, then she stopped.

“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m nearly through.”

Then I put my hands on the coffin-lid and raised it.

As I did so a vivid zigzag of lightning lit up the vault. For one brief second I saw the frightened, grotesque face of Marian French staring up at me from the coffin and then Audrey screamed.

Dropping the coffin-lid, I spun round.

Audrey was crouching back, her hands to her face. I looked beyond her to the door. Reg was clawing desperately at his throat. Even as I stood staring at him, unable to move, he suddenly seemed to be drawn into the darkness, and a moment later the heavy vault door closed with a thud. As the thunder died away, I heard the key creak and then the lock snapped into its stone socket.