The Right Jack

Pernell had performed as efficiently as ever, with nothing to make his movements remarkable.

There was a break for the cardplayers at ten-thirty.

'No matter how we try to corral them, they wander all over the hotel during the breaks,' said Mr. George. 'The service doors are clearly marked for staff only, but there're always a few that duck out that way. It's a little shorter to the restrooms. Johnson could have been around during the break, but I don't remember seeing him.' He turned in his chair and his voice carried to the next table. 'Like I said before, the last time I definitely remember seeing him was about ten-twenty-five, talking to Ms. Baldwin here.'

Molly Baldwin looked startled. 'Was that Pernell Johnson? I didn't know. I was warning him about the ash stands in the lobby.'

Sigrid held up a forestalling hand. 'Please, Ms. Baldwin, hold your comments for now until we can take your statement.'

But Mr. George had nothing more to add. Ten-twenty-five was the last time he had seen Pernell Johnson.

Alan Knight had been quietly taking notes throughout the interview and he detained Mr. George with one question: 'Where in Florida did Johnson live before he came north?'

' Miami, I believe,' said the steward. Ivanovich gave an interrogative rumble,

***

They released Mr. George with the request that he tell no one about Johnson's death except Hester Yates. Madame Ronay told him to send Yates up to Harlem in one of the hotel's cars and to instruct the driver to put himself at Miss Johnson's disposal for the rest of the day.

As he left, several crime scene technicians entered with satchels and cameras. Theyl ooked around the opulent ballroom with quizzical eyes. 'Lieutenant Harald? We heard you've got a body for us.'

Sigrid conferred with them briefly and as they began their professional routine, she returned to question Haines Froelick. The elderly club man continued to doubt if he could help them. He had arrived at the hotel about ten-forty- five that morning and came upstairs as the tournament break was ending.

Seeing the players stream back and forth from the left hall off the landing, he had become confused and thought at first that they were still using the room in which the explosion had occurred. He had even entered the Bontemps Room and almost walked its full mauve and purple length before he realized his mistake. As he left by the rear door, Mr. Flythe was calling for order. He had wandered through the back halls thoroughly muddled for several minutes-making a brief stop at one of the men's rooms, he added, with a faint air of courtly embarrassment, avoiding Sigrid's eyes, and eventually wound up back at the main landing again. It wast here that he remembered how he and his cousin had turned right at the top of the grand staircase on Friday night, not left.

He finally reached the red and gilt d'Aubigne Room at perhaps ten past eleven, he told them. No, there was no one inside.

'Were the lights on?' asked Sigrid.

'Why, yes. Not as many as now but enough to see that the room was empty. I began to walk back and forth across the floor, working my way toward the rear, when it occurred to me that perhaps I should not be here without permission, so I went back out to the landing to see if I could find someone who could tell me if the schilling had been found, or if anyone minded my looking.'

'And all this time, you saw no one?'

'Not in here. There were a few people passing back and forth at the foot of the stairs down in the main lobby- guests, of course-but I wanted a member of the staff and I couldn't seem to find one until I crossed the landing and recognized this young lady from Friday night. I hado nly begun to inquire of her when you joined us.'

Sigrid glanced at Alan Knight. He had entered a list of times on her note pad and was now doodling clock faces across the bottom of the sheet.

'Have you any questions, Lieutenant Knight?'

'Thank you. Lieutenant Harald,' he replied gravely. 'Mr.Froelick, when you first opened the door to this room and looked in was the service door back there open or closed?'

'Closed,' Mr. Froelick answered without hesitation.

'You didn't see the body under the table?'

'I didn't get that far.'

'And no one was over on this side of the landing either time you came along the hall?'

'Quite deserted, I assure you.'

Knight returned to his doodling. 'No more questions from me.'

Sigrid thanked Mr. Froelick and said he might leave, adding that they would appreciate his discretion for the time being.

'You won't forget about Zachary's schilling, will you?' he asked anxiously. 'The funeral is tomorrow.'

Sigrid promised they would not and Froelick made his adieux to Lucienne Ronay as if he were leaving a garden party that had unfortunately been rained out. Sigrid watched him thoughtfully. Was the courtly Mr. Froelick, she wondered, truly as color-blind as his account would appear to make him?

20

WHILE the forensic technicians photographed and made a minute examination of the body and its immediate surroundings, Sigrid and Alan Knight continued with their questions at the front of the room. They tried to send Vassily Ivanovich back to the tournament but the big Russian refused to be dislodged. 'First I am speaking to Molly,' he growled stubbornly. It was obvious to all that a teta-a-tete with Ivanovich was the last thing Molly Baldwin wanted. Or perhaps the next to last thing. She did not appear anxious to converse with her employer either and was patently relieved when Ivanovich was exiled to the loveseat and Madame Ronay was summoned for her testimony.

The volatile Frenchwoman moved lightly to the table and smiled up at Lieutenant Knight as he held her chair, but it was an automatic gesture. Her heart didn'ts eem to be in it. Her lovely face had begun to. show signs of strain and was pinched around the mouth and eyes.

'What is happening here?' she asked them sadly. 'Cette bombe Friday night. At first I can think this is a crank. Someone who hates my poor Maintenon or who wants to make some big statement about the politics in his country, but this! Ce Petit Johnson? Non!'

'No,' Sigrid agreed. She rested her elbows on the tabletop with her fingers tented together and watched Knight's pen poised over the note pad as she gathered her thoughts. 'Tell us please, Madame, of your movements this morning. When did you arrive on this floor? What did you see or hear?'

'When did I arrive? The first time it is perhaps ten or fifteen minutes past ten. On Sundays I am very lazy, you understand. I sleep late and I do not rush straight to my office below. It is a good day to poke around, to look in supply closets, to check the kitchens, to make certain all is as it should be, comprenez- vous?'

They nodded. Interviews with the staffy esterday had given them both a clear idea of La Reine's ways. Not a reign of terror exactly, but something more akin to l'ancient regime intimidation, surprise inspections and unexpected appearances at the most awkward moment.

'So I enter through there,' she said, indicating the service door. Her right hand flashed with diamonds almost as large as the sapphire on her left finger.

Knight had sketched a rough floor plan of the area and he showed it to them now.

The grand staircase rose to a wide landing, at the rear of which were a bank of three elevators and the two wide halls leading off in either direction. On one side of the elevators was an inconspicuous door marked 'No admittance,' which opened onto another spacious landing with two more elevators, a large one for freight and another for staff, that used the same shaft as the passenger elevators out front.

A maze of corridors led to various storerooms, pantries and the service entrances of both the d'Aubigne and Bontemps rooms.