The Case of the Buried Clock

Chapter 12

Paul Drake was waiting for Mason in the lobby of the Kenvale Hotel. “We’ve located Adele Blane, Perry.”

“Where?”

“San Venito Hotel, Los Angeles... That is, she was there. We’ve located her, and lost her again.”

“How come?”

“The locating was easy,” Drake said, “just a matter of leg work. We covered all the garages here. Didn’t find anything. Didn’t expect to. We checked all the garages at Roxbury and found her car stored in the Acme Garage. The Acme Garage is near the bus depot. We checked on the time the car had been stored, and then started checking on the buses that left within an hour of that time. We found that a woman who answered Adele’s description had gone to Los Angeles, traveling without baggage. I put operatives on the job, covering all the hotels near the Los Angeles bus terminal. We had a good description, and acted on the assumption that she’d been checking in without baggage. My operative finally located her at this little hotel. It’s within about four blocks of the bus depot. She’s registered under the name of Martha Stevens.”

Mason knitted his brows. “That name’s familiar, that’s—”

“Housekeeper,” Drake interposed.

“That’s right... Why would Adele Blane register under the name of her father’s housekeeper?”

“Don’t know,” Drake said. “I can tell you one thing, Perry... Martha Stevens isn’t just any old housekeeper. She really rates, both with Vincent Blane and with the children. Incidentally, she gives Vincent Blane his hypodermics.”

“What hypodermics?”

“Insulin.”

“Is Blane diabetic?”

“Uh huh. Has to have an insulin shot twice a day. He can, of course, take them himself when he has to, but it’s a lot more convenient to have someone else do the jabbing... Martha does it.”

“She’s a nurse?”

“No. Milicent is, you know — or was. Milicent must have taught her how... What did you find out just now, anything?”

Mason said, “Fat’s being poured into the fire.”

“How come?”

“The name on the paper Della handed me just before I went out was that of Dr. Jefferson Macon, who lives at Roxbury.”

Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Milicent’s physician?”

“Yes.”

Drake snapped his fingers in exasperation. “I should have thought of that. What gave you the lead, Perry?”

“Tracks of new tires up at the cabin.”

“Oh, oh!”

Mason said, “He’s one of those calm, competent physicians and surgeons. He’s been in love with Milicent for some time. Evidently knows pretty much about what’s going on... He got a tip that Hardisty was up at the cabin, and Milicent was going up, so he started out after Milicent, claims he met her on the outskirts of Kenvale. The evidence substantiates that part of it. What I’m afraid of is that he went back to the cabin with Milicent. The thing that bothers me most is that there must have been a note from Milicent to him, and there’s just a chance that note may not have been destroyed.”

“What gives you the idea of the note?” Drake asked.

“The time element. If Milicent had telephoned him that she was going to the cabin, Dr. Macon would have dropped everything and dashed up there after her, arriving a few minutes after she did. The way things look at this time, and from where I stand, Milicent must have written Dr. Macon a note. Someone delivered it — perhaps Martha Stevens... Where’s Della?”

“Upstairs.”

Mason strode over to the room telephones, got Della Street on the line and said, “Just back, and going out. You haven’t heard anything from Adele Blane?”

“No.”

“Stick around. If she calls, have her keep under cover until I can get in touch with her. There’s another angle to this thing. It doesn’t look so good.”

“See the doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll wait right here.”

Mason hung up the telephone, walked back to Drake. “How did your man happen to lose her once he’d found her?” he asked.

“Adele?”

“Yes.”

Drake said, “It’s just one of those things, Perry. My man doesn’t think that she was wise to him, but she may have been. She walked out of the hotel, evidently looking for a taxi, although there was nothing to tip off my operative that that was what she was doing. He tagged along fifty or seventy-five feet behind her. She was headed toward a taxi stand, as it turned out. Then, just as she was crossing a street, a taxi drew up, she flagged it, the signal changed, and they were gone. My man jumped on the running board of a private car, told the driver to follow the taxi. It just happened the driver didn’t see things that way. He pulled over to the curb and started to argue. My man jumped off and tried to grab another cab and this motorist claimed it was a holdup, and let out a squawk for the police. By the time the thing got straightened around, there was no chance of finding Adele Blane... Those things happen in this business... We’re keeping the hotel covered, of course. She hasn’t checked out. She’ll be back.”

Mason said, “That Martha Stevens business is the thing I can’t understand. It worries me.”

Drake said, “Want to go find this housekeeper and shake her down?”

Mason nodded. “My car’s outside. Let’s go, Paul.”