‘What time did he die?’
‘Last night. He arrived at Hardy’s joint at one o’clock in the morning. He was knocked off between three and four.’
‘Any line on the killer?’
Marshall shook his head.
‘It’s a professional job. No fingerprints. No noise. No one saw anything. At four o’clock in the morning even the bums in Hardy’s place sleep.’
Creed picked up the miniature apple and studied it. Then he put it down and puffed smoke at it while he brooded.
‘Yes, it seems you’ve started something,’ he said, looking over at me. ‘Let’s go through the dossier again.’ He picked up the telephone and asked for the Benson dossier.
‘I’m sure Farmer was lying,’ he went on as we hung up. ‘I couldn’t see how the girl could have disappeared unless she had gone out past Farmer’s door. She had only eight minutes in which to do her disappearing act, and the stage door exit was the nearest to her room. That’s why we hammered away at Farmer, but we couldn’t move him from his story. It looks as if he and Hesson were working together.’
A tap came on the door and a policeman brought in a thick file which he gave to Creed.
‘Farmer and Hesson could have kidnapped the girl and have taken her to Hesson’s room. The charm under his bed points to it,’ Creed said as he opened the file. After turning some pages he read for a moment, then said, ‘She was wearing the charm bracelet when she disappeared.’
‘They wouldn’t have taken her to Hesson’s room,’ I said. ‘The only way up to the room is through the shop. They couldn’t have taken her there unless the owner of the shop was in it too, and I don’t think he was. He gave me Hesson’s address. It’s my guess. Farmer and Hesson were hired to kidnap the girl. Farmer got her into his office by telling her she was wanted on the telephone. She was expecting a call. He probably hit her on the head and bundled her into a waiting car. There must have been someone beside Farmer and Hesson in this to handle the car. Both Hesson and Farmer would have to stay in their jobs to alibi each other. Maybe the bracelet fell off Fay’s wrist when Farmer knocked her out. He might have given it to Hesson or he might
have gone to Hesson’s room later with it.’
Marshall nodded.
‘Yeah, it could have happened like that.’
‘We’ll start a hunt for the bracelet,’ Creed said. ‘It’s pretty hopeless after fourteen months, but we’ll have a try.’
‘Who’s this guy in the camel hair coat?’ Marshall asked. ‘We have a good description of him. We should be able to turn him up.’
‘Low’s looking for him right now,’ I said. ‘He may have already got on to him.’
Marshall grinned.
‘The two-man police force.’ He looked over at Creed. ‘I think this guy in the camel hair coat is important. We should get after him.’
Creed nodded.
‘Then there’s this Nichols girl,’ he said. ‘Where does she fit in?’
‘Anything on her death?’ I asked.
Creed reached for the telephone and called for the Nichols dossier.
‘I can’t remember what the coroner’s verdict was. We didn’t know she was connected with Fay Benson otherwise I’d have been a lot more interested.’
I picked up the miniature apple.
‘Who’s H.R.? Maybe he could tell us something about the girl. We don’t know a thing about her, do we? It seems to me she must have been hiding from someone.’
‘I thought so too,’ Creed said, leaning forward to take a file the policeman had brought in. He turned a page, glanced at it and put the file on his desk. ‘The coroner was satisfied Miss Nichols died accidentally. She apparently stepped on her dress while going downstairs, fell and broke her neck.’
‘Who was she?’
Creed looked at the file again.
‘She was in show business. She had just returned from a trip to Paris. She and nine other girls had gone out on a cabaret engagement, but the act flopped. She came back here broke, and was looking for work.’
‘Fay couldn’t have been one of the other nine girls, could she?’ I asked. ‘Might be worth checking.’
Creed nodded.
‘I’ll do that.’
‘I think Joan Nichols was murdered,’ I said. ‘I think Farmer was murdered too.’
Creed smiled grimly.
‘That’s because you write for Crime Facts. There’s not a shred of evidence either of them was murdered.’
‘When did Joan Nichols die?’
Creed glanced at the file again.
‘August 20th.’
‘She called at the Shad Hotel on the 20th inquiring after Fay. Then she goes home and falls downstairs. Come to that, wasn’t the 20th the night Farmer died?’
Creed looked sharply at me, consulted the Fay Benson dossier and then nodded.
‘Correct,’ he said, frowning.
‘It smells to high heaven to me; doesn’t it to you?’
‘You’re right, it does,’ Marshall broke in. ‘I think he’s got something, captain.’
Creed lifted his shoulders.
‘There’s still no evidence, but I agree there’s no harm if we dig some more.’
‘You have a picture of Fay Benson?’ I asked.
‘I have several in the dossier - why?’
‘When she disappeared did you cover the national press or just the local press?’
‘The local papers only.’
‘I think it might be an idea to get the national press on the job. Print a picture of her in every paper in the country and ask if anyone knows her. We’ll go to town on it too. We might get something that way. She’s been in show business for some time according to Al Weiman. She’s probably been working under another name. Let’s see if we can find out something more about her.’
Creed nodded.
‘Okay. I’ll see what I can do.’
I got to my feet.
‘I’d like to work with you on this,’ I said. ‘I won’t get in your way, and anything I find out I’ll pass to you. This has the makings of a sensational story, and I want to be in on it from the beginning. How about it?’
‘Sure,’ Creed said. ‘You carry on. Come and see me whenever you want to.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘If my partner’s turned up anything, I’ll give you a call.’
I shook hands with him, exchanged winks with Marshall and then went down to the car.
II
When I walked into the lobby of the Shad Hotel, Larson told me Bernie was in his bedroom.
‘There’s been a guy in here asking for you,’ Larson went on. ‘I told him you’d be back sometime tonight.’
‘What did he want?’ I asked, pausing as I was about to cross the lobby for the stairs.
‘He didn’t say. He struck me as a tough character. Do you want to see him if he comes in again?’
‘Not tonight. Tell him to come in tomorrow morning. If it’s urgent call my room and I’ll speak to him on the ‘phone. I want some sleep tonight.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Larson said.
I went upstairs, along the passage to Bernie’s room. I found him sitting in an armchair, his feet in a basin of
