'Can I drop you anywhere?' he asked quietly.
'Oh, drop dead!' Janey said violently, and walked over to the window.
Conrad's mouth tightened. He went across the hall, opened the front door and walked quickly down to his car, parked at the kerb.
As he slid under the driving-wheel he was aware of a tight feeling across his chest that restricted his breathing. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew Janey's and his sands were running out. How long had they been married now? He frowned as he trod down on the starter. Just under three years. The first year had been pretty good, but that was before he had become Chief Investigator to the District Attorney's office. That was when he kept regular hours and could take Janey out every night.
She had been pleased enough when he had got promotion: overnight his salary had doubled, and they had moved out of the three-room apartment on Wentworth Street and had taken a bungalow on the swank Hayland's Estate. This was a big move up in the social scale. Only people earning five-figure incomes and more were accepted on Hayland's Estate. But Janey wasn't so pleased when she began to realize that he was on call any time of the night and day. 'For heaven's sake,' she had said, 'anyone would think you were a common policeman instead of a Chief Investigator.'
'But I am a policeman,' he had explained patiently. 'I am the D.A.'s special policeman, and if a big case breaks I have to represent him.'
There had been quarrels which at first didn't seem to Paul to amount to much: just natural disappointment when a sudden emergency call spoilt an evening out. It was understandable, he had told himself, but he wished she would be more reasonable. He had to admit that emergency calls always seemed to turn up just when they were going out, but that was something they both had to put up with. But Janey wouldn't put up with it. The quarrels developed into rows, and rows into scenes, and now he was getting tired of it.
But this was the first time Janey had asked for money to go out on her own. This was a new development, and it worried Conrad more than all the rows, the breakages and scenes of the past.
Janey was far too attractive to go out by herself. Conrad was aware of the reckless streak in her. From some of the things she had let slip in off-guarded moments, he had gathered she had led a pretty hectic life before they married. He had decided that what load happened in her past was none of his business, but now, remembering some of the stories she had told him of wild parties, and the names of past boy friends she had sometimes taunted him with when she was in a rage, he wondered uneasily if she were going on the war-path again. She was only twenty-four, and sex seemed to mean much more to her than to him, and this surprised him, for he had the normal appetites of the male. Then there were her looks. With her forget-me-not blue eyes, her silky blonde hair, her perfect complexion and her cute retrousse nose she was a temptation to any man.
'Oh, goddamn it!' he muttered under his breath, unconsciously repeating her cry of exasperation.
He raced the engine, engaged gear and swung the car away from the kerb.
II
For the past three years June Arnot had been rated the most popular actress in motion pictures, and she was said to be the richest woman in Hollywood.
She had built for herself a luxurious home on the promontory of the east arm of Tammany Bay, a few miles outside Pacific City and some ten miles from Hollywood.
The house itself was a show piece of luxury and blatant ostentation, and June Arnot, who was not without a sense of humour, had named it Dead End.
As Conrad pulled up outside the small creeper-covered guardhouse where all visitors had to book in before going on up the mile-long drive to the house, the bulky figure of Lieutenant Sam Bardin of the Homicide Bureau loomed out of the darkness.
'Well, well,' he said when he caught sight of Conrad. 'You didn't have to dress up like that for my benefit. Was that what kept you so long?'
Conrad grinned.
'I was about to take the wife out to a party when you called. This has put me in the dog-kennel for weeks. McCann shown up yet?'
'The Captain's in San Francisco, worse luck,' Bardin said. 'He won't be back until tomorrow. This is a hell of a thing, Paul. I'm glad you're here. We'll want as much help as we can get before we're finished.'
'Let's make a start, then. Suppose you tell me what you know and then we'll take a look around.'
Bardin wiped his big red face with his handkerchief and pushed his hat to the back of his head. He was a tall, heavily built man, ten years older than Conrad, which made him around forty-five.
'At eight-thirty we got a call from Harrison Fedor, Miss Arnot's publicity manager. He had a business date with her for tonight. When he arrived here he found the gates open, which is unusual as they are always kept locked. He walked into the guard-house and found the guard shot through the head. He telephoned the house from the guard-house, but could get no reply. I guess he lost his nerve. Anyway, he said he was too scared to go up to the house and see what was wrong, so he called us.'
'Where's he now?'
'Sitting in his car fortifying himself with whisky,' Bardin said with a grin. 'I haven't had time to talk to him properly yet, so I told him to stick around. I've been up to the house. The five servants have been wiped out: all shot. I knew Miss Arnot was somewhere on the estate as she had this business date, but she wasn't in the house.' He took out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Conrad and lit his own. 'I found her in the swimming-pool.' He made a little grimace. 'Someone ripped her wide open and hacked her head off.'
Conrad grunted.
'Sounds like a maniac. What's happening now?'
'The boys are up at the house and at the swimming-pool doing their stuff. If there's anything to turn up, they'll turn it up. Want to have a walk around and see for yourself?'
