who dislike me so much they would want to see me mixed up in this sort of thing. And I know almost no one here outside of the members of my congregation.'
'No, it doesn't seem too likely, does it? But if someone didn't put it there, it can only mean the girl was in your car at some time. Then for some reason-perhaps the murderer had noticed the light in your study-she was transferred to where we found her.'
'I suppose so.'
Lanigan grinned. 'There is another theory, rabbi, which we're duty-bound to consider because it fits the facts as we know them.'
'I think I know. It is that when Stanley came to tell me my books had arrived I used that as an excuse to get out of the house in order to meet this girl. We had been having an affair and our meeting place was my study. I waited for her until I got tired or decided she was not going to appear, but she turned up just as the study door locked behind me. So we sat in my car and it was there she told me she was pregnant and that she expected me to divorce my wife and marry her to give her baby a name. So I strangled her and carried her body over to the grass plot beyond the wall. Then I coolly strolled home.'
'It does sound silly, rabbi, but it's also possible as far as time and place are concerned. If I were asked to make book on it, I'd put it at a million to one. Nevertheless, if you told me you were planning a long trip someplace I'd have to tell you I'd rather you didn't.'
'I understand,' said the rabbi.
Lanigan opened the door to leave, then stopped. 'Oh, there's another thing, rabbi. Patrolman Norman has no recollection of meeting you or anyone else that night.' He grinned at the look of astonishment on the rabbi's face.
15
Elspeth Bleech's picture appeared in the saturday papers, and by six that evening Hugh Lanigan was getting results. Nor was he altogether surprised. The girl had left the Serafino household early in the afternoon and had been gone all day. Surely a number of people must have seen her. Some would call almost immediately, but some might want to think over getting involved with the police.
The first call was from a doctor in Lynn who said he believed he had seen the young woman in question Thursday afternoon under the name of Mrs. Elizabeth Brown. She had given an address and telephone number. The street was the Serafinos'. but the house number was reversed. The telephone number was that of the Hoskins.
The doctor reported that he had examined her and found her in excellent health and in the first stages of pregnancy. Had she appeared upset or nervous? No more than many of his patients in similar circumstances. Many were delighted when they discovered they were pregnant, but there were also any number who found the news upsetting, even though they were legitimately married.
Had she mentioned her plans for the rest of the afternoon or evening? He was sure she had not. Perhaps she had spoken to his secretary, who had now already left for the day. If the police thought it important he would get in touch with her and inquire. They did, and he said he would.
Almost immediately there came another call, this time from the secretary, who had seen the girl's picture in the paper and was sure she had been in the office Thursday afternoon. No, she had noticed nothing unusual. No, the girl had not mentioned what her plans were for the afternoon or evening. Oh yes, just before leaving, she had asked where she could make a call. The secretary had offered the office phone, but she preferred the privacy of a pay station.
Then came a rash of telephone calls from people who were sure they had seen her, some in stores in Lynn, where she could have been, and others from nearby towns, where the likelihood was less. A gasoline station attendant called in to say she had been on the back seat of a motorcycle that had stopped for directions. There was even a call from an operator of an amusement park in New Hampshire who insisted the girl had been there around three o'clock to ask for a job in one of the concessions.
Lanigan remained at his desk until seven and then went home for his dinner, leaving strict orders that any call concerning Elspeth Bleech should be transferred to him at home. Fortunately, none came in and he was able to eat in peace. He had no sooner finished, however, than his doorbell rang; he opened the door to Mrs. Agnes Gresham, who owned and operated the Surfside Restaurant.
Mrs. Gresham was a fine-looking woman of sixty with beautifully coiffed snow-white hair. She carried herself with the dignity becoming to one of the town's leading business-women.
'I called the police station and they told me you had gone home, Hugh.' Her tone carried a faint air of disapproval.
'Come right in, Aggie. Can I get you a cup of coffee?'
'This is business,' she said.
'There's no law that says we can't be comfortable while talking business. Can I fix you a drink?'
This time she refused more graciously, and took the seat he indicated.
'Okay, Aggie, is it my business or your business?'
'It's your business, Hugh Lanigan. That girl whose picture was in the paper-she was in my restaurant Having dinner Thursday night.'
'Around what time?'
'From before half-past seven when I took over the cashier's cage so that Mary Trumbull could get her dinner, to around eight o'clock.'
'This for sure, Aggie?'
'I am quite sure. I took particular notice of the girl.'
'Why?'
'Because of the man she was with.'
'Oh? Can you describe him?'
'He was about forty years old, dark, good-looking. When they finished eating, they left the restaurant and got into a big blue Lincoln that was parked in front of the door.'
'What made you pay such particular attention to him? Were they arguing or quarreling?'
She shook her head impatiently. 'I noticed them because I knew him.'
'Who was it?'
'I don't know his name, but I know where he works. I bought my car at the Becker Ford Agency and I saw him there once behind a desk when I went there on business.'
'You've been very helpful, Aggie, and I appreciate it.'
'I do my duty.'
'I'm sure you do.'
As soon as she was gone, he telephoned the Becker home.
'Mr. Becker is not in. This is Mrs. Becker. Can I help you?'
'Perhaps you can, Mrs. Becker.' Lanigan introduced himself. 'Can you tell me the name of the person in your husband's employ who drives a blue Lincoln?'
'Well, my husband drives a black Lincoln.'
'No, this is blue.'
'Oh, you must mean my husband's partner, Melvin Bronstein. He has a blue Lincoln. Is anything wrong?'
'No, nothing at all, ma'am.'
Then he called Lieutenant Jennings. 'Any luck at the Serafinos'?'
'Not much, but I did get something. The Simpsons across the way saw a car parked in front of the Serafmo house very late Thursday night, midnight or even later.'
'A blue Lincoln?'
'How'd you know?'
'Never mind, Eban. Meet me at the station right away. We've got work to do.'
Eban Jennings was already there when he arrived. Hugh filled him in on what Aggie Gresham had said. 'Now
