gone. When she returned, she came on down the passage toward the wash-room and pushed open the side door. She slid a chair up close to the desk and sat down.
“What was that about with Scanlon?” I asked.
“I’ve only got a minute, but that’s what I wanted to explain. I tried to call you last night—I mean, night before last—to ask if you’d heard the story going around town that Roberts had been murdered instead of accidentally shooting himself. But the line was busy.”
“What time?” I asked quickly.
“That’s the trouble. All I’m certain of is that it was right around eleven-forty-five, between there and midnight. They say it was eleven-forty-five when you left the house with Mulholland, and that you’d been on the phone, talking to Scanlon. They think that’s what it was. God, if I’d only looked at the clock.”
“There’s no doubt she called somebody, as soon as I was out the door.”
“But why? To get herself killed?”
“I don’t know,” I said helplessly. “I’m so fouled up now I’m not sure of my own name. Norman’s information was no help at all.”
“Well, there’s still Denman. I wanted to tell you, if necessary you can talk back on the intercom. Evans and Turner aren’t here, and nobody can hear you from the street. I’m facing the other way, so they can’t see my lips move. If somebody comes in, I’ll cut the switch.”
“Good girl. You’re wonderful.”
She grinned sardonically. “I guess I’m a born cloak-and-dagger type. But it’s almost one; I’m going to call Doris Bentley.”
She went out. I picked up the phone and waited tensely while she dialed.
“Crown Theatre.”
“Would you tell me what the feature is today, please?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. It’s Gregory Peck in ‘The Bravados’.” My pulse leaped; I was certain it was the right voice.
“And what time does it start, please?”
“At one-thirty-five, just after the news and the cartoon.”
“Thank you.”
Barbara hung up, and in a moment the intercom hummed. “What do you think?” she asked softly.
I pressed the key and leaned close to the box. “She’s the girl; I’m sure of it”
“What now?”
“I’m going to talk to her.”
“How can you?”
“We’ll wait till the picture starts and she’s not busy. Can you do an imitation of a long-lines operator?”
“Sure. But, listen—if she reports it to Scanlon, hell know it’s a fake. The phone company’s watching all incoming calls.”
“I don’t think she’ll report it, for the same reason she’s never identified herself. She’s not eager for publicity.”
“Here’s hoping.”
I waited nervously while a half hour dragged by. The chances were she’d refuse to admit she was the one unless I could scare her. She obviously didn’t want to be identified, either because she was mixed up in this thing herself, or from a natural disinclination to admit she’d been in Roberts’ apartment—which was the only way she could have found the lighter there. The intercom came on, and I heard Barbara dialing.
“Crown Theatre.”
“This is long distance. We have call for a Miss Doris Bentley. Is she there?”
“Long distance?”
“Yes. El Paso is calling. For Miss Bentley.”
“This is Miss Bentley, but—”
“Go ahead, please.”
“Hello,” I said. “Hello, Doris?” I heard her gasp. “It took me a long time to remember where I’d heard your voice before.”
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And what are you talking about?”
“You know who I am, so let’s get down to cases. And don’t hang up on me, because if you do Scanlon’s going to pick you up. I’ve still got a friend or two there, and he might get a tip; you didn’t invent the anonymous telephone call.”
“Just a moment, please,” she said sweetly. I heard her put down the phone, and then the rattle of coins from the change dispenser.
She came back. “You wouldn’t dare! I’d tell him where you are.”
“Try me and see.
“What was that about with Scanlon?” I asked.
“I’ve only got a minute, but that’s what I wanted to explain. I tried to call you last night—I mean, night before last—to ask if you’d heard the story going around town that Roberts had been murdered instead of accidentally shooting himself. But the line was busy.”
“What time?” I asked quickly.
“That’s the trouble. All I’m certain of is that it was right around eleven-forty-five, between there and midnight. They say it was eleven-forty-five when you left the house with Mulholland, and that you’d been on the phone, talking to Scanlon. They think that’s what it was. God, if I’d only looked at the clock.”
“There’s no doubt she called somebody, as soon as I was out the door.”
“But why? To get herself killed?”
“I don’t know,” I said helplessly. “I’m so fouled up now I’m not sure of my own name. Norman’s information was no help at all.”
“Well, there’s still Denman. I wanted to tell you, if necessary you can talk back on the intercom. Evans and Turner aren’t here, and nobody can hear you from the street. I’m facing the other way, so they can’t see my lips move. If somebody comes in, I’ll cut the switch.”
“Good girl. You’re wonderful.”
She grinned sardonically. “I guess I’m a born cloak-and-dagger type. But it’s almost one; I’m going to call Doris Bentley.”
She went out. I picked up the phone and waited tensely while she dialed.
“Crown Theatre.”
“Would you tell me what the feature is today, please?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. It’s Gregory Peck in ‘The Bravados’.” My pulse leaped; I was certain it was the right voice.
“And what time does it start, please?”
“At one-thirty-five, just after the news and the cartoon.”
“Thank you.”
Barbara hung up, and in a moment the intercom hummed. “What do you think?” she asked softly.
I pressed the key and leaned close to the box. “She’s the girl; I’m sure of it”
“What now?”
“I’m going to talk to her.”
“How can you?”
“We’ll wait till the picture starts and she’s not busy. Can you do an imitation of a long-lines operator?”
“Sure. But, listen—if she reports it to Scanlon, hell know it’s a fake. The phone company’s watching all incoming calls.”
“I don’t think she’ll report it, for the same reason she’s never identified herself. She’s not eager for publicity.”
“Here’s hoping.”
I waited nervously while a half hour dragged by. The chances were she’d refuse to admit she was the one unless I could scare her. She obviously didn’t want to be identified, either because she was mixed up in this thing herself, or from a natural disinclination to admit she’d been in Roberts’ apartment—which was the only way she could have found the lighter there. The intercom came on, and I heard Barbara dialing.
“Crown Theatre.”
“This is long distance. We have call for a Miss Doris Bentley. Is she there?”
“Long distance?”
“Yes. El Paso is calling. For Miss Bentley.”
“This is Miss Bentley, but—”
“Go ahead, please.”
“Hello,” I said. “Hello, Doris?” I heard her gasp. “It took me a long time to remember where I’d heard your voice before.”
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And what are you talking about?”
“You know who I am, so let’s get down to cases. And don’t hang up on me, because if you do Scanlon’s going to pick you up. I’ve still got a friend or two there, and he might get a tip; you didn’t invent the anonymous telephone call.”
“Just a moment, please,” she said sweetly. I heard her put down the phone, and then the rattle of coins from the change dispenser.
She came back. “You wouldn’t dare! I’d tell him where you are.”
“Try me and see.
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