Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 2, March 19, 1938
- Автор: Clark Dale, 12627 Convict
- Год: 1938
- Язык: английский
- Год: The Red Star News Company
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 118, No. 2, March 19, 1938». Краткое содержание книги:
Hatch drew back, his mouth grimly tense, his lowered lids darkening his eyes. For a moment he gazed at nothing. Then, with sudden decision, he crossed to the opposite corner and took up the telephone.
He dialed the number of Police Headquarters.
The glass door-bell tinkled. Hatch turned his pinched eyes to the entrance. The maid appeared from the hall. When she opened the door, Terry Alexander and Lois Westcott came in.
The telephone receiver was twanging faintly, “Police Headquarters. Police Headquarters.”
Hatch disconnected.
The maid retired. Terry Alexander and Lois Westcott hurriedly took off their raincoats and hats and hung them in a closet. They came to Hatch together.
“Cy, don’t you realize you mustn’t come here any more?” Terry said.
“I realize you’re a lovely little liar, Terry,” Hatch answered.
Terry colored. “Why... why do you say that?”
“Where have you been?” Hatch asked.
Lois Westcott answered. “We went to Mr. Kerrigan’s office.”
“Together?” Hatch said. “Then you no longer have any secrets from each other.”
“Terry and I had a talk,” Lois Westcott said in a low tone. “We told each other everything.”
“And you both went to explain the whole business to Kerrigan,” Hatch said.
“Yes,” Lois Westcott said.
“Now the three of you know exactly how Howard is involved.”
“Yes,” Lois Westcott said. “But... he still mustn’t know that I know.”
“Where is Howard?” Hatch asked.
“Isn’t he here?” Lois Westcott said. “When I left, he told me he wouldn’t be going out.”
“He’s gone,” Hatch said.
Lois Westcott turned away and went down the hall. Terry gazed boldly at Hatch.
“Lovely little liar,” Hatch accused her again. “I ought to whale hell out of you.”
“Of course I lied,” Terry said. “I told you I wouldn’t say anything that might harm Howard and Lois. It was the least I could do for them.”
“There isn’t any damned thing you wouldn’t do to protect Howard,” Hatch said.
Terry’s chin lifted.
“You are in love with him,” Hatch said.
“Cy! When I told you it’s not — it’s not like that between Howard and me — I was telling you the truth then.”
“I’d be a damned fool to believe it,” Hatch said.
“I swear it, Cy.”
“Terry,” Hatch said, “I made you a promise. It seems like a year ago, but it was only last night. I agreed not to drag Howard into this mess if I could help it. I’ve kept that promise as long as possible.”
Terry’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“Howard can’t be kept out of this any longer.”
Terry’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”
Lois Westcott hurriedly returned. She took Hatch’s arm.
“Howard packed a bag,” she said.
Hatch’s right hand closed hard. “Go on,” he said.
“He left me a note.”
Lois Westcott put a slip of paper into Hatch’s hand. He read the message aloud.
“ ‘I’ve just had an urgent phone call from Pittsburgh. Tell Rupert it’s in connection with the Amalgamated deal. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Don’t worry, darling. Kiss Peter good night for me. I love you. Howard.’ ”
He returned the note to Lois Westcott.
“What’s wrong with that?” Terry asked defiantly. “Why shouldn’t Howard leave for Pittsburgh suddenly on business?”
Hatch said, “Mrs. Westcott, please call your maid.”
Terry’s eyes challenged Hatch as Lois Westcott pressed a button on the wall. In a moment the maid appeared.
“What time was it when Mr. Westcott received a long-distance call from Pittsburgh?” Hatch asked her.
The maid hesitated.
“Answer Mr. Hatch’s questions, Suzette,” Lois Westcott said.
“I do not know,” Suzette said.
“Did he actually receive such a call?” Hatch persisted.
“I know nothing about this call,” Suzette said.
Hatch stepped toward her. “I’ve got to have all this straight. A short while ago a woman came here, saying she was Mrs. Westcott, and asking to see Mr. Westcott. What did you do?”
“I go to Mr. Westcott’s room and I knocked. Mr. Westcott did not answer. I went into the loft, and Mr. Westcott was not there. I think perhaps Mr. Westcott has stepped out for a moment, so I came back to the lady and say, ‘Mr. Westcott is occupied. Please wait just a few minutes,’ and she say she will wait until she sees him.”
“Then there was a call on the house phone from a man who was in the lobby,” Hatch said. “You called this woman to the phone and she spoke to this man. Did he come up? Did you see him?”
“I do not know if he came up,” Suzette said.
“What next?” Hatch asked.
“Then the door ring, and it is you, and the lady is gone.”
Hatch nodded. “That’s all, Suzette.”
The maid left the room. Terry and Lois were anxiously searching Hatch’s face.
“Cy, what does all this mean?” Terry demanded.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Answer me, Cy!”
“I don’t think I will,” Hatch said levelly.
“Why not?”
“In the first place, if you don’t know already, it’ll be to your advantage to remain ignorant of it,” Hatch said. “In the second, I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it. I want a chance to think it over.”
He strode to the entrance. Lois Westcott gazed distraitly at the note left by her husband. Terry followed Hatch into the vestibule.
“That’s not fair,” she said.
Hatch pressed the elevator button. “It’s the best strategy I can think of,” he answered. “You’ll soon understand why.”
“If anything goes wrong now, Cy Hatch,” Terry said, “it’ll be all your fault.”
Hatch smiled dourly. “When the whole world comes crashing down around your ears,” he said, “you’ll realize it simply couldn’t be helped.”
The elevator panel opened.
“Stop talking in riddles,” Terry said. “You’ve got to tell me—”
“Goodby, Terry,” Hatch said, and stepped into the car.
Terry’s eyes flashed at him. The attendant closed the panel. The car started downward.
“Herbert,” Hatch said, “a short time ago you took a woman up to the penthouse.”
The elevator operator considered an answer, then said, “Yes, sir.”
“A few minutes later a man came into the foyer and spoke to her on the house phone. Did you take him up too?”
“Yes, sir,” Herbert said.
“Can you describe him?”
“Why, he was about average looking, sir,” Herbert said. “Except he had a beard.”
“A beard!” Hatch exclaimed. “What was he wearing?”
“Why, I think he had on a dark suit, and a dark felt hat,” Herbert said.
Hatch’s eyes grew keener. Stepping into the foyer, he found the big-bellied doorman seated on a bench beside the entrance.
“Ambrose,” Hatch inquired, “do you remember the man who spoke to the Alexander penthouse over the house phone?”
Ambrose stood with great dignity. “Of course, sir,” he said.
“Can you describe him?” Hatch asked.
Herbert came from the elevator to listen.
“As I remember him, he was rather a heavy-set fellow,” Ambrose said.
“No, he wasn’t,” Herbert said. “He was average.”
“He was heavy-set,” Ambrose said.
“Anyway,” Herbert said, “he had a beard.”