The D.A. Breaks an Egg

5

The night clerk at the Madison Hotel had turned down the lights in the lobby so that the single reading lamp behind the desk bathed the hotel switchboard in white light. He had his feet propped up on a stool and was reading a magazine.

Glancing into the dimly lit lobby, and seeing the two figures approaching, he got to his feet, pulled down his vest, and said, “I’m sorry, we’re all filled up. If you... why it’s Miss Martin and Mr. Selby!”

Selby nodded. “We’re trying to find out something about a young woman about twenty-two or twenty-three years old. We think she may have a room here. She’s probably registered from Windrift, Montana. Good-looking, red-haired, nice figure. Know her?”

“Why, yes, we do have a young woman from Windrift. She’s Miss Daphne Arcola, in room six hundred and two. I remember her because she checked in not very long after I came on duty at seven o’clock. She’s a very beautiful young woman, stunning. I’d never heard of Windrift, and told her so. She explained to me that it’s quite a dude ranching center. She answers the description.”

“I see,” Selby said. “Will you ring her room, please?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, of course, it’s pretty late,” the clerk said, glancing significantly at the clock. “Of course...” He let his voice trail into silence.

Selby held him with insistent eyes and the clerk hastily added, “However, since you request it, Mr. Selby...”

He moved over to the switchboard, plugged in a line and pressed a key. After several seconds he pressed it again, then held his finger down firmly.

“She doesn’t answer, Mr. Selby.”

“I think that’s our party,” Selby said. “Take a passkey and come on up.”

“I’m not supposed to leave the switchboard during the time I’m on duty, seven to three. I’m sorry, Mr. Selby. I...”

“Then give us the passkey.”

The clerk hesitated for a moment, then with a sigh, took a passkey from a nail. “All right, let’s go. I’ll take a chance.”

They rattled upward in the elevator.

The clerk took the precaution of knocking twice on the door of 602. When he received no answer he inserted the passkey, clicked back the spring lock, opened the door a scant two inches, said, “I beg your pardon,” then opened it an inch or two more. “This is the management.”

He reached in through the open door, groped for the light switch, then clicked it on.

“Well,” the clerk said, “there seems to be no one here.”

Selby glanced at Sylvia Martin, and pushed past the clerk into the room.

The clerk said, “Of course this is very irregular.”

Selby said, “It’s quite regular as far as I’m concerned. You can leave if you don’t want to have any part in it. Come in, Sylvia. I want you to look things over.”

The clerk stood for a moment undecided.

Selby said, “We don’t need to detain you any longer and you’ve been away from the switchboard a few minutes as it is. Just go on down and watch the switchboard. If anyone comes in and asks for Miss Arcola, give us a ring.”

“Suppose she should come in?”

“I don’t think she will. In case she does, ring the phone three times in quick succession. We’ll get out within five seconds after we get the signal. Now, if anyone comes in and takes the elevator to this floor, ring twice in quick succession. Do you understand? Twice for any other person, three times if it’s Miss Arcola.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. That’s all.”

The clerk retired and Selby closed the door.

“She seems to have traveled light, Sylvia. There’s only one small suitcase.”

“Which hasn’t been unpacked.”

“She got something out of it, however,” Selby said, indicating the oblong pattern on the bedspread. “She put the suitcase on the bed, opened it and took something out, or else put something in.”

“Yes, I guess she did... You’re right, Doug. She left a pair of stockings and some underthings in the bathroom. I can see them in the washbowl.”

“Well,” Selby said, grinning, “do your stuff.”

Sylvia went over to the suitcase, placed it on a chair and opened it.

“Neatly packed,” she observed. “She’s evidently done quite a bit of traveling.”

“Find anything?” Selby asked.

“Not a thing — dresses, underclothes, stockings, slippers, nightgowns, apparently just the things a girl would need in traveling. Nothing that’s personal like papers, letters, diary, anything of that sort.”

“There should be an overnight bag somewhere, with lotions and things of that sort, shouldn’t there?”

“Uh-huh. There it is over there by the side of the dresser.”

“Take a look in that.”

“Nothing in here,” Sylvia said, after a few moments, “except creams and toilet sundries.”

“Take a look at those clothes and see if you can find labels in them, and also take a look for cleaning marks. Leave things just the way they are as nearly as you can, but see if you can’t find something which will give us a clue.”

Selby walked over to the telephone, picked up the receiver, and after a moment when he heard the clerk’s voice on the line, said, “You keep a record of phone calls. Look up this room and see if she made any phone calls.”

“Yes, sir. You want to hold the phone?”

“I’ll hold it.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said after an interval. “There are two telephone numbers.”

“Local or long-distance?”

“Local.”

“What are they?”

“West 9328. That was the first one she called. And then Orange 8967.”

“Find out the listing on those numbers,” Selby said. “I’ll hold the line.”

“All right, Mr. Selby. Just a minute... Just hold the phone a minute. Someone’s coming in... Oh, it’s the sheriff... He says to tell you he’s coming right on up to the room.”

“All right,” Selby said. “Get me the listings on those numbers.”

Selby held on to the phone while Sylvia finished going through the suitcase.

“I can’t find a thing, Doug, that will help. There’s a label on a coat from an outfitting company in Los Angeles, and one from a San Francisco department store. She evidently travels and buys clothes here and there as she needs them.”

Selby said, “Rex Brandon’s on his way up here. He may have some additional information, and...”

The clerk said, “I have those numbers for you, Mr. Selby.”

“All right, what are they?”

“The West 9328 number is the number of Mrs. Lorraine Lennox at 836 West Chestnut, and the other is that of Mr. Carr.”

Selby said, excitedly, “You mean A. B. Carr?”

“That’s right, sir. Alfonse Baker Carr, the lawyer.”

“When did she call him?”

“We don’t keep the exact time of the calls. All I can tell is that first she called this number out on Chestnut, and then the Carr number. She arrived here at the hotel about eight o’clock, so it was some time after eight. That’s all I can tell. I’m sorry, Mr. Selby, but we just keep those numbers so we can keep our telephone record straight. The time isn’t important to us.”

“I understand,” Selby said.

Rex Brandon opened the door, grinned at Selby, and said, “I see you’ve struck pay dirt.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Selby said.

He said to the clerk, “All right, remember the signals. Let me know if anyone asks for this woman and if anyone should telephone and ask for this room, try to find out who’s telephoning. Tell them that at this hour of the night you have to keep a record of who’s calling. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Selby said, and hung up the phone. He turned to the sheriff.

“Her name’s Daphne Arcola, Rex. She comes from Windrift, Montana. She placed two calls, one of them to Mrs. Lennox, at 836 Chestnut, and the other one you’ll never guess.”

“Who?”

“Old A. B. C.,” Selby said.

Brandon’s face darkened. “That shyster.”

“Not a shyster,” Selby said. “A remarkably clever, dangerous attorney who makes his living by...”

“By showing crooks how they can get around the law,” Brandon interrupted.

Selby grinned. “Well, he’s in quite a predicament at the moment, Rex. Because of that last case he handled, he found himself faced with criminal prosecution and disbarment, so he had to marry the one witness who could have testified against him.”

“A marriage of inconvenience,” Sylvia Martin said, laughing. “I’d certainly like to look in on their home life.”

“It probably would be quite enlightening,” Selby said.

“He’ll wind up by murdering her,” Brandon said darkly. “And do it in some slick way so no one can ever pin it on him. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes.”

Sylvia said, “I’ve often wondered how she feels. She was a working girl, suddenly elevated to a position of comparative wealth, and because one phase of the law has never been construed, A. B. Carr doesn’t dare to divorce her until after the three-year statute of limitations has expired. Well, I’m going to have to run on and start pounding away at a typewriter in order to make a deadline. Will you let me know if anything turns up?”

Selby nodded.

“How about that call to the Lennox residence?”

Selby looked at his watch, hesitated, then said, “I suppose we can run out there and interview them quicker than we can get action on the telephone, but in a neighborhood like that we should at least announce that we’re coming.”

He picked up the telephone receiver and said to the clerk at the desk, “I want you to call back that number, West 9328, the one Miss Arcola called earlier in the evening. I’ll hold the telephone.”

Sylvia Martin moved over to stand near the door, anxiously watching her wrist watch.

Selby waited while he could hear the connection being made, and then the sound of the intermittent, persistent ringing of the telephone at the other end of the line.

Sylvia said, “Doug, be a sport, and get everything you can over the telephone so I can...”

The receiver was lifted at the other end of the line and a woman’s precise voice said, “Hello. What is it, please?”

“West 9328?”

“Yes.”

“This is Douglas Selby, the district attorney. I’m very sorry to bother you at this hour of the night but it’s a matter of considerable importance.”

“Yes, what is it, please?”

“May I ask to whom I’m speaking?”

“This is Mrs. Lorraine Lennox.”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Lennox, I’m very sorry that I got you up out of bed, and...”

“You didn’t get me up out of bed, young man. As a law enforcement officer you should know what’s been happening here.”

“What’s been happening?” Selby repeated.

“Exactly.”

“Would you mind telling me to what you’re referring, Mrs. Lennox?”

“The call that we put in to the police. Someone broke into my daughter’s bedroom two hours ago and stole some very valuable jewelry. We none of us feel like going to bed.”

Selby glanced toward Sylvia Martin. “You say someone broke into the house?”

“That’s right.”

“Into your daughter’s bedroom and stole some valuable jewelry?”

“Yes.”

Sylvia’s eyes were dancing with excitement. She tapped her wrist watch and made frantic signals to Selby.

“May I ask if you received a call earlier this evening from a Miss Daphne Arcola?”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“I’m not certain. It may have something to do with it.”

“Well,” Mrs. Lennox said, “I think you officers are going all around the barn to find the door. Personally, I know no Daphne Arcola and have received no call from her.”

“It’s quite important,” Selby said. “Would you mind asking the other members of your family if any of them received such a call? If no one did I’ll have to assume the call came in when no one was home.”

“Just hold the phone,” Mrs. Lennox said. Then after a short interval she said, “Someone has been here all day. I was here myself, and some of the members of the family have been here as well. There is no possibility the telephone could have rung and not been answered. I have asked, and no one here knows a person named Arcola and no call has been received from anyone by that name. Now, what I want to know is what you propose to do about the burglary?”

“We’re going to investigate it immediately,” Selby said. “You’ve notified the police?”

“Yes. The police have been here. They left about an hour ago. Frankly, I was not at all favorably impressed.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” Selby promised, and hung up.

Sylvia Martin stood in the doorway. Selby said, “Someone was there all evening, all day in fact. She says no one talked with Daphne Arcola and that if the phone had rung someone was there who would have answered it. Either the clerk here is mistaken or someone out there is lying. They had a burglary two hours ago. City police were there.”

“That’s great, Doug. I’m on my way. Will you ring me at the paper if anything more happens within the next ten minutes? I’m off!”

She gently closed the door.

“Well,” Selby said, “we may as well start looking around. There’s no sign of her purse here, Rex, and there’s nothing much to give us a clue, just a suitcase full of the things a girl would ordinarily use in making a trip of short duration. I don’t think she intended to be away very long.”

Rex Brandon prowled around the room.

“I’m indebted to Sylvia for the appraisal,” Selby said. “Evidently she arrived shortly before eight o’clock this evening. She came to the hotel, placed her telephone calls, apparently took a bath, and left these stockings and the lingerie to be washed out in the washbowl tonight.”

“And then she went out and got herself killed,” Brandon said.

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Brandon said, “I don’t think we’re going to find out much about who did it until we find out more about her — unless, of course, it was some thug who was riding along in an automobile and saw her in the park, but that doesn’t seem very logical to me. In the first place, we don’t have that type of criminal here in this agricultural community, and in the second place, I don’t see why she would have gone to the park.”

Selby said, “Well, we...”

He broke off suddenly as the telephone rang sharply two times, in quick succession.

“What’s that?” Brandon said.

Selby said, “That’s a signal the clerk’s giving us. I told him to ring three times in case the girl herself should show up, twice if someone came in and took the elevator to this floor. Of course, it may be anyone with a room on this floor.”

Brandon nodded.

Selby crossed over to the light switch by the door, clicked off the lights and left the room in darkness.

They heard the elevator door slide open.

Brandon moved up to stand close to Selby in the darkness, then almost imperceptibly inched his way in front of the district attorney.

Steps sounded on the carpeted corridor outside the door, paused in front of the door of 602. Knuckles tapped gently on the panels of the door.

There was a pause during which the two men in the room could hear each other breathing while the person on the other side of the door waited, then tapped again.

Another pause, and then the knob of the door made noise as it was twisted slowly back.

The sheriff’s powerful shoulders pushed back, flattening Doug against the wall. He twisted the spring lock, jerked the door open, grabbed the figure which stood in the corridor and pulled it into the room.

Selby clicked the lights on.

It was A. B. Carr, the veteran criminal attorney, who first recovered his poise.

“Well, well, well,” he said, “good evening, gentlemen.”

Brandon said, “What are you doing here?”

Carr’s laugh held good-natured assurance. “I think, gentlemen,” he said, “that is a question that I should ask you.”

Selby moved around behind Carr to close the door.

“Go over there and sit down,” Brandon said.

Carr, smiling indulgently, as a parent who is humoring the whims of children in some game, moved over to a chair and seated himself.

He was a tall, graceful man with lines of character deeply etched on his face. His hair was gray at the temples and the Hollywood-style sideburns, the keen quizzical eyes, and above all, the man’s complete assurance, combined to make an impression which, as Selby had so frequently pointed out to the sheriff, was as carefully planned as the advertising campaigns in national magazines.

Carr settled himself comfortably in the chair, crossed his legs, selected a cigar from a leather cigar case, carefully placed it in his mouth, scraped a match into flame on the sole of his shoe and said nothing until he had the cigar going in just the way he wanted.

So naturally did the man act, so perfect was the timing of his motions, that he did not give the appearance of one who is trying to get time to think, but rather created the impression of a man who is relaxing among friends, who enjoys the good things of life, and who would therefore make something of a ceremony out of lighting a good cigar.

“I’m afraid, my dear Sheriff,” he said, “that you are given to impetuous and thoughtless action. You should have opened the door and invited me in. That business of jumping out at me and grabbing me is rather individualized and unconventional. And it might be dangerous.

“Now, Major Selby, who is learned in the law, will tell you that...”

“All right,” Selby interrupted, smiling, “suppose we discuss the legal aspects of the situation some other time, Carr. The question is what you’re doing here now.”

Carr smiled at Selby, puffed on the cigar, said, “Yes, Major, I see your point.”

His voice had the resonance of an actor who had made a life-long study of elocution and there was that about the man which compelled attention. As Selby had at one time remarked, “Carr can take five minutes to pick up a law book, find his place in it and start to read, and the jurors will hang onto his every motion with breathless attention. He has the knack of making everything he does seem utterly absorbing.”

“As a matter of fact,” Carr went on, “I don’t have to explain my actions to you gentlemen unless those actions are connected in some way with a crime.”

“What makes you think they aren’t?” Selby asked. Carr smiled. “Come, come, Major. You know there hasn’t been... and yet I wonder why you’re here.”

Carr’s face showed either a momentary flash of worry or else a perfectly simulated flicker of apprehension.

Brandon moved threateningly toward the lawyer. “That’s always the way,” he said. “We catch you red-handed in something and you try to put us on the defensive. Now you tell us what you’re doing here and start talking fast — and it had better be good.”

“Or else?” Carr asked, flicking ashes from the tip of his cigar with a little finger.

“Or else,” Brandon said, “you’ll finish that cigar with handcuffs on...”

“Tut tut, Sheriff. Would you want to lay yourself open to a suit for false imprisonment?”

“With you I would,” Brandon said. “Sue and be damned. And if you think any jury in this community would give you five cents’ worth of damage, you don’t know the type of people you’re dealing with.”

Carr stroked the angle of his jaw, then smiled. “You have something there, Sheriff,” he said. “You have, for a fact.” He made a little bow of surrender, as a sportsman might yield to a victorious antagonist.

But it was to Selby he made his explanation.

Turning his eyes to the district attorney, Carr said, “Frankly, Major, I was paying a social call.”

“I’d prefer that you forget the military title,” Selby said.

“Ah, yes, I keep forgetting. And yet it really becomes you. I understand you had some distinct success in counterespionage during the war. Your adventures would make interesting...”

“We were talking about your visit here,” Selby interrupted.

“Yes, yes. Pardon me if I digress, Counselor. Well, as I was saying, this is purely a social visit. The room is occupied by a Miss Daphne Arcola, of Windrift, Montana.”

“So we understand,” Selby said.

“And, as it happens,” Carr said, “she is a friend of my wife.”

There was a moment of significant silence.

“Your wife!” Brandon exclaimed.

Carr’s eyes were cold as he sized the sheriff up. “My wife,” he repeated. “Mrs. Alfonse Baker Carr.”

“Whom you married,” Brandon said, hotly, “so that...” He stopped as he felt Selby’s fingers digging into his arm.

“Yes?” Carr prompted.

The sheriff remained silent.

“Whom I married legally,” Carr said. “She is my wife, Sheriff, and as such entitled to respect. Kindly remember that.”

“I’ll remember a lot of things,” Brandon told him.

“That, of course, is your privilege, Sheriff. And now, gentlemen, I take it that I have explained the purpose of my visit, and in view of the circumstances, I think I’m entitled to an explanation of your visit.”

“Do you know this Daphne Arcola by sight?” Selby asked.

“No. She’s my wife’s friend. I’ve never seen her.”

“Did she know you were coming here?”

“I’m sure I can’t say.”

“It’s late for a social call.”

“That’s largely relative. We’re night owls at our house.”

Selby said, “The police found the body of a young woman in the park. She had been stabbed. We have reason to believe the body is that of the woman who rented this room.”

Carr’s face hardened. “Stabbed?”

“Yes.”

“That, gentlemen, is a shame, a damned shame.”

“Naturally,” Selby said, “we want to apprehend the murderer.”

“So I gather.”

“Under the circumstances, we are naturally interested in finding out everything we can about this young woman’s background.”

“Indeed yes,” Carr said, gravely.

“Therefore...” Selby said, and paused significantly.

“As I have explained to you,” Carr said, “the young woman is, or was, the friend of Mrs. Carr.”

“Has your wife known Miss Arcola for a long time?” Selby asked.

Carr turned to Selby. This time there was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes. “Frankly, Counselor, I don’t know. I have never asked her about her past connections. As you may have gathered, gentlemen, I don’t believe in long courtships.”

The ghost of a smile twisted the corners of Carr’s mouth.

“And how did you happen to come here?” Selby asked.

“Miss Arcola telephoned and left word for Mrs. Carr, who was out at the time, that she was in town and was staying here at the Madison Hotel in Room 602.”

“And so you came up here?”

“I had other business uptown. Mrs. Carr suggested that I run up here when I had finished.”

“At this hour?”

Carr stroked the angle of his chin. “As I’ve explained, we’re night owls at our place. However, the business took longer than I had anticipated.”

Selby said affably, “Well, if you are night owls, it probably won’t inconvenience Mrs. Carr if we drive out there right now and talk to her.”

Carr got to his feet. “She’ll be only too glad to have you, gentlemen. Also, I have a recipe for a very delicious hot buttered rum, something extra special, and I happen to have some seventy-year-old rum. I’ll be glad to welcome you.”

Carr got up and started for the door.

“Just a minute,” Brandon said. “We can all go out there together.”

Carr showed surprise. “My dear Sheriff,” he said.

“And in that way,” Brandon blurted, “you won’t have a chance to coach your wife on what to say.”

Carr’s face darkened. “Sheriff,” he said, ominously, “you insist upon treating me as a criminal. I was perfectly willing to drive out there with you, but I want you to understand I am under no compulsion to do so, and you have no right to order my affairs. I’ll go and come as I damn please until such time as I am placed under formal arrest upon some definite charge. I have my own car here, and I intend to drive it home.

“Unfortunately, your official duties apparently necessitate a visit to my house. May I suggest, gentlemen, that you’ll be more efficient if you try to be affable, and that it will be much easier for me to extend a reasonable hospitality if you treat me as a citizen and not as a criminal?”

Brandon, on his feet, said, “I could send for your wife to come to my office for questioning.”

“You could indeed,” Carr said, “and she would be only too glad to come, sometime after nine o’clock in the morning. Is that the way you’d like to have it, Sheriff?”

“We’ll go out to your house, Carr,” Selby said. “It’ll be a pleasure to sample your hot buttered rum.”

“Thank you, Major,” Carr said, bowing. “We’ll be glad to have you.” And then, turning to the sheriff, he added, significantly, “Both of you.”

And Carr strode out through the door of the hotel room into the corridor.

He managed to invest his departure with such an air of dignity that it seemed he was an important personage who had very graciously consented to grant an audience, rather than a person who was about to be interrogated concerning a murder case by the sheriff and district attorney of the county.

Selby grinned, as the door closed, and said, “You have to hand it to him, Rex.”

“I’ll hand it to him with a bunch of fives one of these days.”

Selby shook his head. “The man is clever, Rex. I was particularly amused at his comment that he didn’t believe in long courtships.”

“I’ll say he didn’t,” Brandon said. “And that little tramp he married is sitting pretty!”

Selby nodded, said, “Don’t be too certain she was a tramp, Rex. She knew her way around, but she’s a clever girl, with a lot of individuality.”

“I’m sorry I said that,” Brandon admitted. “I’m mad. A. B. Carr always gets my goat. Let’s get out of here, Doug. With the county car, and using the siren, we can still beat him out to his home, and get to talk with his wife before he’s had a chance to coach her.”

“Well,” Selby said, dubiously, “we can try, but I’m afraid that’s all the good it’s going to do us. Carr is clever.”

“He may be clever,” Brandon said, “but we’ve got the siren. Come on.”

They waited a few seconds for the elevator, paused briefly in the lobby to instruct the clerk to say nothing to anyone about their search, then sprinted for the big county car which was parked in front of a fireplug fifty feet from the hotel.

Brandon, behind the wheel, gunned the motor, tore out from the curb, gathered speed as he shot down Main Street, past the siren-stopped traffic, and turned up Orange Grove Drive with, a scream of protesting tires. A triumphant grin was on his face as he said, “Well see whether he has the guts to try to race us.”

Selby looked back for pursuing headlights. “There doesn’t seem to be anything behind us, Rex.”

“Damn him, he’s ahead of us,” Brandon said, and concentrated his attention on piloting the machine up the grade to the exclusive residential district. The city, lights began to appear below in twinkling clusters as the county car, roaring around the curves, climbed to a point where each bend in the road opened up a new vista of the slumbering city below.

Brandon muttered triumphantly as he finally slammed the car to a stop in front of Carr’s house, “By George, Doug, we beat him to it. He wasn’t ahead of us!”

Selby said, “He knew he couldn’t beat us home, Rex, so he simply stopped at the nearest telephone, coached his wife on what to say, and now he’ll come following along in a leisurely manner and apparently be very much surprised to find us here so soon.”

Brandon scowled, then suddenly burst out laughing. “Of course that’s what he did! Why didn’t I realize that was what he’d do? There’s something about that fellow that makes me so darned mad I forget to think!”

“Let’s wait out here for him,” Selby said. “He won’t be expecting that.”

They switched out the lights in the county car.

Brandon spilled tobacco into brown rice paper, rolled it into a cigarette by sheer sense of touch, then scraped a match into flame. So deft was he in his motions that he was smoking before Selby had finished tamping tobacco into his fragrant brier pipe.

They waited for some five minutes. Then headlights swung around a curve, danced for a moment along houses on the other side of the street, then swung back and sent lights stabbing through the rear window of the county car.

A. B. Carr pulled to a stop directly behind them.

Brandon and Doug Selby emerged from the county car.

“Well, well, well,” Carr said, with every evidence of surprise. “You beat me here. I thought you’d have gone on in and started questioning, so I didn’t hurry. Had a little trouble starting my car.”

Selby said, “It’s nice up here. We were talking.”

“But why didn’t you go in? Mrs. Carr would have been only too glad to see you. She knows you, you remember.”

And this time there could be no mistaking the significance of Carr’s smile.

“Yes,” Brandon said dryly, “I remember her quite well. I remember the first time I met her.”

Carr led the way up the walk, opened the screen door, then flung open the front door, said, “Hello, dear. We have visitors.”

His wife scorned the patent subterfuge of surprise. She came toward them without bothering to remark on the unexpected nature of the visit or the lateness of the hour. She merely gave her hand to Brandon, said, “How are you, Sheriff. It’s nice to see you again.” Then she placed her hand in Selby’s and smiled up at him with impudent eyes. “So nice to see you again, Mr. District Attorney. I was wondering if you folks were ever going to pay a social call. You see I owe a great deal to you.”

“A very great deal, my dear,” Carr said dryly.

“Do come in and be seated. Alfonse, how about one of those hot buttered rums you’ve been making at night?”

“By a peculiar coincidence,” Carr said, emphasizing the adjective slightly, “you have hit upon the very thing which I had previously suggested to these gentlemen, one of my hot buttered rum drinks. Is Lefty around, my dear?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “He may have retired.”

Carr ushered his visitors into the living room, picked up a little bell and tinkled it.

Almost instantly the door from a serving pantry opened and a man, who had every appearance of being a broken-down pugilist in an immaculate white serving coat, said out of the side of his mouth, “Did you ring, sir?”

The incongruity of the situation caused Selby to suppress a smile.

Brandon surveyed the battered countenance of the butler with professional interest, taking due note of the thick lips, the cauliflower ears, the flattened nose, and the permanently swollen eyes.

“You might put on some hot water, Lefty,” Carr said. “Get out some of that seventy-year-old rum, the brown sugar, the spices and the butter. I’ll put the ingredients together.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, and turned obediently.

Carr smiled, and said, “A former client of mine. He’s very devoted to me, gentlemen, really very devoted.”

“Client!” Brandon snorted.

“That’s right, Sheriff.”

“I suppose he consulted you in connection with some oil-bearing properties and wanted you to handle the leases,” Brandon said sarcastically.

Carr threw back his head and laughed. “Now there, Sheriff,” he said, “you have me. You really do. I’ll have to admit as much. However, to satisfy the curiosity, which I can see is underlying your bit of repartee, I’m quite certain he really didn’t commit the murders for which I defended him — and secured his acquittal.”

“Indeed,” Selby said.

Carr, smiling at the sheriff, waited for just the proper moment, and then added with perfect timing, “Twice! And now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will see about the hot buttered rum.”

Carr moved over toward the door, then paused. His wife crossed her knees, lit a cigarette, and surveyed the two county officials with the cautious appraisal of one sizing up an adversary before engaging in a contest.

Brandon blurted, “I hope you don’t hold anything against us or...”

She smiled. “On the contrary, I feel I owe a lot to you.”

Catching Doug Selby’s eye, she closed her own right eye in a strictly mischievous wink.

Old A. B. Carr, standing behind her, moved so he could see her face. She turned and met his glance with a look of cherubic innocence.

“Well,” Carr said, “I’ll repair to the culinary department and see what can be done about that hot buttered rum.”

“You’ll have to count me out,” Brandon said. “I’m on duty investigating a serious crime.”

“Come, come, Sheriff. A little hot buttered rum won’t hurt you.”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“How about you, Counselor?” Carr asked Selby.

“Well,” Selby acquiesced, “if you’ll promise not to load it.”

“But of course,” Carr said. “A ‘loaded’ drink is a betrayal of hospitality and a gustatory crime. It takes just a certain proportion of rum, butter, water, sugar and spices to give the perfect drink. To add too much rum is as bad as adding too much sugar. The whole thing is a beautifully proportioned, streamlined...”

“Well, give me a small cup,” Brandon interrupted. “I’ll go so far as to change my mind.”

Carr smiled, nodded, turned back to the door of the butler’s pantry, then paused to say, “By the way, my dear, I neglected to mention it, but I’d like very much to have you co-operate with Sheriff Brandon and District Attorney Selby. Just tell them anything. Absolutely anything that you know. It’s so seldom that we can be completely unreserved with these gentlemen, and they’re investigating a tragedy involving a friend of yours.”

“A friend of mine?”

“That’s right.”

“Who?”

“Someone who telephoned you tonight and wanted you...”

“Not Daphne!”

Carr inclined his head. “I’m afraid it’s Daphne, my dear, but I’m quite certain that Major Selby would like to conduct the inquiry in his own way.”

“But what in the world? Why Daphne didn’t know anyone here. She...”

“Exactly, my dear,” Carr said. “It’s a puzzling problem, but if you’ll excuse me I’ll withdraw so that the officials can question you without being embarrassed by my presence.”

And Carr stepped swiftly through the door into the butler’s pantry.

“What happened to Daphne?” Mrs. Carr asked.

Selby said, “She seems to have been stabbed, Mrs. Carr.”

“And... you mean...?”

“Yes, she died almost instantly.”

“Where did it happen?”

“In the park. The body was found there and from indications it would seem that the body had not been transported. The crime must have been committed right there.”

“But that’s absolutely incredible.”

“You had known her for a long time?” Selby asked.

“Fairly long. But Mr. Selby, who on earth would have wanted to murder Daphne? Why she...”

“That’s exactly what we’re here to find out,” Brandon interrupted.

“I can’t help you at all.”

“Perhaps you can help us in a preliminary way,” Selby said. “Did she come here to see you?”

“I guess so. She must have... well, now wait a minute. Now that you ask the question, I... I don’t think she did.”

“She must have had some reason for coming here.”

Mrs. Carr nodded dubiously. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Perhaps it would help to find that reason if you’d tell us a little about her background,” Selby said.

She said, “I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Selby. You’re a good scout. Of course you understand that my relationship here is a strange one. While our marriage was sudden, it was... Well, you understand the circumstances.”

Selby nodded.

She said, “I wasn’t foolish enough to walk into it with my eyes closed. When my husband suggested that we get married in the interests of what I would call self-preservation, and what you would call thwarting justice, I was smart enough to realize that temporarily I had the whip hand. I insisted upon a marriage settlement which would give me something of what I wanted. I knew, of course, that my husband intended only to seal my lips for the three years during which the statute of limitations would run, and then he would get a divorce. And I know that he’s shrewd enough so that when he wanted to get that divorce he would make it appear that I was absolutely in the wrong, so he could throw me out without a cent.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this except that... well, you were nice to me and you’re a square shooter and I like you. I want to get the cards on the table and help you just as much as I can, but I’m not kidding you about this marriage, and I’m not kidding myself.”

“Go ahead,” Selby said.

“All right,” she said. “You know my background. I wasn’t any gilded lily. I tried to keep my own self-respect, but... well, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Selby said.

“I tried to use my head. I had a living to make. I wanted some of the good things of life. I tried to get them. A girl needs friends. There are times when she wants the companionship of her own sex, but situated as I was, such friendships are dangerous. However I formed a few.”

“Daphne Arcola?” Selby asked.

“She was one.”

“What about her background?”

“Naturally,” Mrs. Carr said, “under the circumstances I was hardly in a position to select my friends from the social register.”

Selby nodded.

She said, “Daphne and I shared an apartment in Windrift, Montana.”

“Wasn’t that rather an isolated place for you?” Selby asked.

She smiled. “During certain seasons of the year it wasn’t at all isolated. Not when I was there. There were two dude ranches a short distance out of Windrift and the place was fairly crawling with Eastern dudes who had money, wanted to wear cowboy clothes, and had roving eyes.”

Sheriff Brandon clamped his lips in a straight line of disapproval. Selby nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead.”

She said, “You know the way I played the game, Mr. Selby. I met old A. B. Carr when I was helping with entertainment. I... I wasn’t exactly a party girl. I tried to make my living, however, out of men who wanted entertainment — my dinners, some of my clothes — little things. If a man had a business deal he wanted to put across and wanted the right sort of background... well, I was that background. And the dude ranches wanted something easy on the eye as local cowgirls.”

“And Daphne Arcola?” Selby asked.

She narrowed her eyes and said, “I never asked any questions of Daphne, nor about Daphne.”

“She was playing the same general game you were playing?” Selby asked.

“Apparently she was, and yet... well, I’ll tell you one thing about Daphne. She was the most close-mouthed, secretive person I ever knew in my life. And I’m no party line myself. I realize that when a woman is lonely, sometimes when perhaps she doubts whether she’s making the most out of her life and thinks perhaps she should have — or could have — well, perhaps when she wants to reassure herself, she has a great temptation to confide all to some sympathetic woman companion.

“And it’s the most deadly, dangerous thing any woman can do. Women are essentially ruthless with each other.

“Of course, it’s dangerous to generalize, but basically women can never have the same frank, free friendships that men have. A woman is essentially a trapper. Man may be the one who hunts and pursues, but when it comes to a showdown the woman is the one who traps... What am I saying? I’m...”

“No, go ahead,” Selby said. “I’m interested.”

“Well,” she said, “I’ll put it this way. Every woman has some definite objective, something she wants for herself. Some women want marriage, some want enough money to have financial security... Perhaps with most of them it’s financial security through marriage... Well, Mr. Selby, the point is that I never knew what Daphne wanted.”

“And you wrote her and asked her to come here and visit you?” Selby said.

“I didn’t invite her to come and visit. I wrote her that I had married, and I... well, I admitted to her that the circumstances surrounding the marriage were a little unusual.”

“Reading between the lines of that letter do you suppose that she could have learned the true state of affairs?”

“Not from the letter.”

“How did she learn them then?”

“I’m not certain she did.”

“But you think she did?”

“She may have.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because she came here.”

“Can you amplify that statement a little?”

“Well, Daphne was peculiar. She was deep, and as I say, I could never be certain about her. I wrote her the letter telling her about my marriage more so she would not come to California and look me up. It wasn’t an invitation to visit. It was a warning to stay away.”

“Why?”

“I felt certain that... well, after all, Mr. Selby, put yourself in my position. I hardly felt I should start inviting my friends to this house. I’m a legal wife. I’m certainly not an intellectual companion.

“I’ll tell you something about my husband. They call him old A. B. C. and he’s a criminal attorney; but he’s a very remarkable man, Mr. Selby. A very, very remarkable man. He’s always thinking, studying life. He’s strong and sinewed and he likes to manipulate things so events happen the way he wants. Don’t ever make any mistake about that man, Mr. Selby. He never does anything without a reason.

“I don’t think he cares much about money, but he loves to feel that he’s manipulating people. Life is like a chess game with him and he loves to plan his moves way ahead, trying to figure what the other man will do and then being all prepared with some smart move which will lead to checkmate.

“I expected, of course, that our married life would be something of a cat-and-dog existence, but that’s where I was wrong. I have never encountered anyone more considerate, more courteous, more... oh, I’m not kidding myself. I don’t think the man’s falling in love with me, and I know that when the three years are up he’ll find some way to frame me so that I’ll be kicked out without the faintest chance to nick him for a dime of alimony.

“And I know that what he’s doing now is purely selfish, but you have to admit it’s smart. He’s facing a three-year sentence of matrimony. He wants to make it as easy on himself as possible. And so we play a great game here, Mr. Selby. We are so beautifully, courteously considerate of each other that, well, I don’t think any marriage founded on a great romantic love could have the harmony that this one does.”

“I see,” Selby said, and then added after a moment, “of course, Carr is smart enough to realize that’s the only way he could endure... No, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Of course you did, Mr. Selby. You meant it exactly that way. You have to mean it that way. It’s exactly the way I looked at it, but... well, what I’m trying to tell you is that I’m hardly in a position to invite any of my friends to this home.

“On the other hand, in breaking with my former contacts I didn’t want to offend them. I didn’t know but what at the end of three years I might need them again. So I wrote Daphne a letter, telling her about the marriage, giving her something of a background of my husband, and... well, I intimated to her that I was being accepted... well, not exactly as a social equal; but that while I was living in a big house... well, you can see the idea I tried to put across.”

“And how long ago did you write that letter?”

“Five or six weeks.”

“And Daphne promptly proceeded to come to Madison City?”

“Yes. Not promptly, but she came.”

“And telephoned you?”

“Yes.”

“And what did she say when she telephoned?”

“She called when I was out and left a message with the butler.” And Eleanor Carr smiled as she referred to the butler.

“Lefty?”

“Yes.”

“What was the message?”

“She asked Lefty to tell me she was just passing through Madison City and wanted to say hello, but that she wouldn’t be able to get out here to see me... I felt she was being tactful and was properly appreciative. Now I’m not so certain.”

“But you asked your husband to go to see her at the hotel?”

“Well, no. I told him... you see Lefty delivered the message when my husband was here. Alfonse was very nice. He told me to invite her out here.

“I didn’t think any more about it, but A. B. C, bless his heart, felt that I was being self-conscious and reluctant to invite my friends here — and apparently he went to the hotel to invite her out to the house.

“I guess it was too late — then.”

Selby and Brandon exchanged glances.

The door from the serving pantry opened and the butler with the cauliflower ears entered, carrying cups and saucers on a lacquered tray. The tingling aroma of hot spiced rum reached their nostrils.

Carr, who had held the door open for the butler, said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen, but this is something in the nature of a special ritual. I made yours rather small, Sheriff, but there’s a dividend in case you...”

“No, thanks,” Brandon said. “I’ll be quite happy with this.”

The butler served them and they raised cups.

“Here’s to crime,” A. B. Carr said.

“Delicious,” Selby exclaimed, tentatively tasting the drink.

Rex Brandon glanced at Carr with sudden respect. “Say, you do have something there! Or will have when it cools a bit. It’s boiling.”

Carr smiled. “I’m certainly glad you’re enjoying it. Now how about you, my dear? Have you given these gentlemen all the information they wanted?”

“I’ve given them all I had.”

“That’s fine!” Carr exclaimed. “Splendid. Excellent. It’s a pleasure to co-operate with you gentlemen, and naturally we’re very much concerned about what happened. Could you tell us something of the circumstances?”

“She was stabbed,” Brandon said curtly.

“Indeed. Death was instantaneous?”

“Apparently so.”

“In the park I believe you said, Sheriff?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose,” Carr said, casually, “that you learned of her identity from examining her purse. She probably was carrying the hotel key with her.”

Brandon looked at Selby.

Selby said, “As a matter of fact, we simply made a check at the hotel from a physical description.”

“I take it, then, the hotel key wasn’t in her purse?”

Selby smiled. “This certainly is an excellent hot buttered rum. Is the recipe secret?”

“I have no secrets from you tonight,” Carr said. “I’ll be glad to have my secretary make a copy of the recipe and send it to you, Counselor.”

“Thank you,” Selby said.

“We were talking about Miss Arcola’s death,” Carr went on.

“Oh, yes,” Selby said, stirring his drink vigorously to cool it off.

“The knife was left in the body?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“That makes it a little difficult,” Carr said. “And there was, I take it, no indication as to the identity of the murderer?”

“What leads you to make such a statement?” Selby asked.

“Well,” Carr said, affably, “after all, Counselor, it was more of a question than a statement, but it’s a natural assumption in view of the fact that you’re here. If you had a more live lead, you would be running it down, rather than sitting here sipping my humble hospitality.”

“How do you know this isn’t a live lead?” Brandon growled.

Carr threw back his head and laughed. “That retort was obvious, of course, my dear Sheriff, but nevertheless effective. I did somewhat leave myself open there, didn’t I? However, I’ll gladly answer your question. I know that this is not a live lead because I know that my wife could not possibly have been implicated in the murder.”

And Carr smiled affectionately across at her.

Something in his face caused Mrs. Carr to cease smiling. Selby, watching her, felt certain he saw a swift flicker of consternation cross her features.

Carr, obviously enjoying himself, said speculatively, “Now, the park — that’s hardly a place where a stranger would go merely for the purpose of taking a walk. It’s more a place for a rendezvous — although, of course, she could have been riding in a car and then been killed and thrown out.”

He stopped with his head cocked slightly to one side, his eyebrows raised quizzically.

After a moment’s silence, he asked, “No comment, gentlemen?”

“No comment,” Brandon said gruffly.

“She could hardly have been thrown out of an automobile,” Selby said, “not from the position of the body.”

“Ah, you interest me.”

“I thought I would.”

“Could you explain a little more in detail, Counselor?”

Brandon frowned at Selby, but Selby, apparently interested entirely in the hot buttered rum, said, “Evidently she’d been running or walking, and she was stabbed from behind. She’d pitched forward on her face. Of course, that’s merely a surmise. There was blood on the back of her dress, but as nearly as we could tell without moving the body, there was none on the front of the dress. Evidently the stab wound was in the back, deep enough to reach the heart, but not one which would go all the way through the body.”

“Naturally,” Carr said. “A person almost never encounters a stab wound which goes entirely through the body. That would indicate a sword as a weapon rather than a knife, and a sword is an awkward thing to carry, whereas a knife can be carried in a variety of places... Her purse was lying beside the body, or perhaps she had dropped it when she started to run?”

Selby said, “Now that, of course, is a matter of deduction, something I’m not prepared to comment on at the moment.”

He finished the last of his drink, glanced meaningly at Brandon, and said, “Rex, we really have to...”

Brandon immediately put down his cup. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we do. We have another lead, and people are waiting for us.”

“Well, well,” A. B. Carr said, “that’s fast work. I hate to see you rush off, gentlemen, but — do come again sometime.”

“I probably will,” Brandon said.

Selby shook hands. “Thanks for a most delightful drink, and I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

“Oh, not at all.”

When they were back in the county car, Doug Selby threw back his head and laughed.

“Now what’s so funny?” Brandon asked. “I feel like growling.”

Selby said, “I was just appreciating his technique, Rex. You remember what his wife said. He seldom does anything without a carefully thought-out reason.”

“I don’t get you.”

“The hot buttered rum,” Selby said. “It was a delightful experience.”

“It was a good drink, I’ll say that. He knows how to...”

“No, no, not the drink,” Selby said, “the idea back of it. You perhaps noticed, Rex, that the drink was boiling hot. It had to be cooled off before...”

“I’ll say it did. I darned near burned the inside of my mouth out.”

“Exactly,” Selby said. “And you notice that Carr made no attempt to question us until after he had us sitting around with a drink that we couldn’t very well leave without being terribly impolite, and which we couldn’t drink without scalding our insides.

“Then, having us pinned to the board, so to speak, he proceeded to query us about the facts surrounding the death.”

“Darned if he didn’t,” Brandon admitted.

“And with particular reference to the purse,” Selby said.

“You’d almost think he knew something about that purse,” Brandon said thoughtfully.

“He’s interested in it all right,” Selby said. “And did you notice the look of swift consternation on the face of his wife when he made some comment to the effect that he could guarantee she hadn’t been mixed up in the murder?”

“Good Lord, you don’t think she was, do you?” Brandon asked.

“Certainly not. But for one moment we saw fear penetrate her mind. Carr may not be able to divorce her for three years, but if she were found guilty of murder and executed, Carr would be safely out of his marital predicament.”

“Good Lord!” Brandon exclaimed, momentarily taking his eyes from the road, “you don’t think Carr has anything like that in mind, do you, Doug?”

“I don’t,” Selby said, “but apparently the thought occurred to his wife as an interesting possibility. And by this time she quite probably knows him better than we do.”