awkward, having patients coming in. It's dreadful-have you any idea who the burglar was yet?' She sounded sincere, anxious.
'Have you been in the building?' he asked.
'Oh no, I just got here.'
'Well, come in with me now, please, I'd like to ask you a few questions? Just as well she was here. He took her down to the private office. She was quick, coming in, to notice the small stain on the floor, and recoiled slightly.
'Oh, is that where- It's too awful! To think of Doctor-'
Palliser had left the top drawer of the one big file case open. Hackett drew it out and set it on the desk. 'Sit down, Miss Corliss.' He sat down himself in the desk chair and riffled through the cards in the file. They were stiff cards, lined, about eight by six; and most of them were blank. Only here and there, under different alphabet headings, was a card filled out. 'Can you tell me who the doctor's appointment was with last night?'
'Why, I didn't know he had one,' she said blankly. 'Just a minute, I'll look in the appointment book.' She found it on the desk and turned to the latest filled-in page.
'There's nothing listed. He certainly didn't mention one to me, and usually when he did make an evening appointment, of course he'd ask me to be here too. It's better policy, you see-especially if it's a woman.'
'Wasn't that rather inconvenient? I should think-'
'Oh, it wasn't very often,' she said. 'Goodness, I just can't believe such an awful thing's happened. Mrs. Nestor said it must have been somebody breaking in to burglarize the place. It seems to me people are getting more lawless every day. The things you read-'
Well, it was possible, thought Hackett, that Nestor had used his office as a meeting place for his girl friend. Or girl friends.
'Would you say that Dr. Nestor had a good practice?'
'Oh yes, very good. He was a clever doctor, people liked him.'
'I see. Would you come and look at these files, please? It doesn't look like a very large practice to me. Not big enough to start paying his office rent.' He watched her; he saw her eyes move behind the glasses. She looked through the file drawer obediently.
'But, my goodness,' she said, 'he's taken a lot of the tile cards out. I wonder why? There should be ever so many more here-of course he had a lot more patients than just these!' She sounded concerned. And that 'ever so many' gave her away: she'd been a long time away from England, but there remained the faintest trace of Cockney.
'Oh, is that so? Why do you suppose he'd do that, Miss Corliss?'
'Why, I've reely no idea, it does seem funny.' That 'reely' gave her away further. 'Do you suppose the burglar could have done it? I mean, like vandals at the schools, you know-just out of mischief.'
Hackett regarded her guileless expression. There was something about Margaret Corliss that smelled just faintly wrong to him, as this whole Nestor business did. And because, damn it, he'd had that Reyes kid and the Slasher on his mind this morning, he hadn't been giving full attention to this thing; he'd had no business to walk away and leave the office unguarded, with that side door open. They hadn't really looked around much here, just desultorily as yet. He hadn't, for instance, looked at the other file drawers… Ought to have his head examined, doing a fool trick like that.
Had the woman been in the building? At the back of her car… He asked suddenly, 'What were you putting away in your car trunk as I drove up, Miss Corliss?'
The brown eyes never flickered, only widened on him.
'In my trunk? Why, nothing, Sergeant. What would I be-I'd just driven up and parked, reely I had.'
'Then what were you doing behind the car? I thought you seemed to be shutting the trunk lid.'
'Well, reely, all the fuss about nothing,' she said fretfully. 'I should think you'd be better getting after the burglar, that's the important thing after all. I suppose you can see I drive an old car. The trunk lid's got a way of coming loose and flying up, and of course usually in the most awkward places, when I'm in the left-turn lane or something. It did that just as I came in, so of course I went round to shut it.' She sounded a little annoyed now. 'Ree1y, I don't know what you think I- All I came down for was to call the patients and put them off.'
'So you said,' said Hackett. 'It's now'--he looked at his watch-'getting on for two o'clock. It seems funny there weren't any patients scheduled earlier today, if he had such a large practice.'
'But it's Wednesday,' said Miss Corliss instantly.
'Doctor always took Wednesdays off. It's the patients for the rest of the week I want to-'
'I see.' Something just a trifle wrong, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Not worth a damn. 'Could you do your telephoning somewhere else? I'll be looking around in here. I saw a desk in a little cubicle off the waiting room-'
'Yes, of course, that's my desk. Certainly, Sergeant, and I surely do wish you good luck in finding out what awful fiend did it. just a dreadful thing, poor Doctor only thirty-six and doing so well. I expect it's all right to take the appointment book?' She picked it up casually. Well, Palliser had seen it. He got up after she'd gone out, and gently eased the door open; she'd closed it after her. The little cubicle adjoining the waiting room had only waist- high partitions on the sides that faced the waiting room and the hall. He heard a chair pulled out, shoved in, and after a short pause the little click as she lifted the phone… 'Mrs. Vandenburg? This is Dr. Nestor's nurse, Miss Corliss. I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid-'
On the level? Had she been putting something in the trunk? Been in here already and taken away-well, what? Something wrong about this setup. Those files-that was just damned silly, suggesting that a burglar… Why would Nestor have lifted a whole wad of file cards out? It made no sense. Mrs. Nestor wouldn't have had a chance, the patrolman had been with her. And whatever the Corliss woman might have taken out of here, if anything, it hadn't been the file cards (if any), because Palliser had already commented on that to Hackett. What the hell, he thought blankly.
He opened the other three drawers of the steel filing case. They were all bare.
What could she have wanted to lift, here? Echo answers what, thought Hackett irritably. Had she been putting something in the trunk? Go and look. Sure, without a warrant, and get hauled across the coals for it. Ten to one the trunk was locked anyway… Funnily enough, his sister' s Dodge had a trunk lid like that. If she forgot to lock it, it was always flying up.
He walked down the hall, out the side door, and around Miss Corliss' eight-year-old Plymouth. The trunk was locked.
As he came back she was saying into the phone, 'Mr. Weatherby? This is Dr. Nestor's nurse, Miss Corliss. I'm so sorry-' She had the phone on her lap, the appointment book on the desk before her.
Hackett sat down at Nestor's desk again. Nestor had been doing right well indeed, for a chiropractor in practice only three years. Of course, he gathered that some people swore by them, wouldn't go to an M.D. on a bet. But he seemed to remember that they were legally limited in certain ways, couldn't write prescriptions except for vitamins or give shots.
He opened the desk drawers. There wasn't much in any of them. A couple of prescription-form pads with Nestor's name and office address printed on them, a couple of ballpoint pens, in the top drawer. The next one down was filled with sample packages, mostly of different vitamins. In the bottom drawer he found a half-empty fifth of scotch, an expensive brand. The other drawers were empty. It looked as if Nestor hadn't used his desk much.
He got up and walked round the little office. The bookcase held mostly medical textbooks. But thrust carelessly on top of the books on the middle shelf was a large scrapbook with simulated leather covers. He took it out and opened it, and had a little surprise.
Evidently, and maybe it figured, Nestor had been a snob. Interested in high society. The book was half filled with clippings from newspaper society pages, and quite a few pictures. Mr. and Mrs. E. Montague Fairfield have announced the engagement… The Richard Priors and their twin daughters Jean and Janet were entertained at a formal dinner by our charming visitors from Paris, M. and Mme… The well-known hostess and clubwoman, Mrs. Lyman Haines, in her Bel Air home, displays Loper's new informal at-home gown, while her daughter Sheila…
A little funny, thought Hackett. There were several clippings not yet taped in; the uppermost one was quite a lengthy article, and the name Marlowe caught his eye. He scanned it briefly.
Mr. and Mrs. William Maxwell Marlowe have announced the engagement of their youngest daughter, Susan, to Baxter W. Stevens III. Miss Marlowe…
