Merryll Manning Is Dead Lucky (15 page)

    “It seems none of you took these threats seriously.” Borne’s voice had no accusing edge. He was simply stating the mournful fact.

    “That’s just not true, inspector,” Mr. Kent argued. “We took the threats so seriously, that’s why we employed Mr. Manning here.” Kent’s tone implied that he was blaming me. Maybe he was right?

    “I told you what steps I took,” I declared. “What more could I do? None of the threats were made against Miss Williams. None of them!”

    “She wasn’t guarded?” asked Borne. “Not in any way?”

    “Of course not! None of us believed she was in any danger whatever.”

    “Yet it seems, Mr. Manning, that she was the one who came  into first contact with your contestants?”

    “That’s true.”

    Borne began to pace up and down. “It seems she was the one who did all the interviews and kept all the files. Yet none of you reasoned – even for a moment – that she was in any danger?” He wasn’t blaming us. He simply wanted to know if there was at least one of us who had any sense of reality.  

    “No.”

    “It’s easy enough to have hindsight, inspector,” observed Mr. Kent. “Obviously, the notes were designed to throw us all off the track – so we would take steps to guard everyone but the intended victim.”

   
Intended victim!
I wanted to shout that Miss Williams was a girl who lived and breathed, not a statistic or a cross-reference! But I held my tongue.

    Inspector Borne ignored Kent’s explanation. “And all the files are gone, you say?”

    “Yes, I made the connection straight away,” I answered. “I raced to Spookie’s office. Her filing cabinet was open – empty!”

    “Hundreds of files?”

    I nodded. “The killer had plenty of time. The show runs for an hour, including commercials, but taping can take anything up to two or three hours. It’s my theory, he had an audience ticket. He arrived early. Nothing unusual about that. Many patrons are dead keen to get a seat at the front. Anyway, this guy knew his way around. He’d obviously been here before. People can come to every broadcast they wish – so long as they have a ticket. Anyway, he heard Sedge and Spookie talking in his dressing room. He waited for Sedge to leave, stepped in, knifed the girl, took her keys, closed the door, walked back to her office, shuttled the files out to his car, put them in the boot and the back seat under a coat or something, waited for the end of the show, and then drove his car out with the first of the crowd.”

    Inspector Borne continued to pace up and down without speaking. Up and down the tatty set, from contestant number one’s table to Sedge’s podium, and back again. Up and down until finally Kent growled out in exasperation, “You know how upset we are, inspector, we all are, all of us, but our work must go on – and that’s doubled with all our files missing!”

    “And with your announcer in hospital?” Borne asked.

    Mr. Kent spread his hands. “Sedge was always very highly strung. You’re dealing with show people here, inspector. He walks back to his dressing-room after the show and he finds the girl sitting in his chair. He touches her and she falls to the floor, staring up at him with those dead eyes. Even you or I would be affected by a sight like that. He runs back here and he literally collapses on the floor. Naturally, we send him to a hospital. A private hospital. The station has an arrangement…”

    Borne had come to a halt right in front of Kent. “A graphic description,” he murmured, “from someone who wasn’t here!”

    “No, I wasn’t,” Kent admitted, “But Monty filled me in on all the details.” He nodded towards the bantam producer.

    Borne’s voice was mild. “Then I won’t be needing you any more, Mr. Kent.”

    The station manager had virtually asked to be excused, but now he was reluctant to go. He launched into a long and unnecessary speech on the station’s abhorrence of violence and his desire to co-operate in bringing the slayer of one of its employees to justice. Halfway through this embarrassing exercise in self-justification, Borne nodded to Sergeant Huggins who walked to the door and held it open. Kent had no option but to leave.

    As it turned out, that was a very stupid action on Borne’s part. Kent went back to his office all right, but now that he himself was in the clear, he and his secretary phoned the story to every newspaper and wire service in L.A.

    After having Kent shown to the door, Borne then motioned to Monty Fairmont and the two men talked quietly – even the producer’s shrill voice came down to a high-pitched whisper – but the acoustics of the set were so tuned that the rest of us could easily hear what was said. Monty confirmed that he, Ace Jellis and Trev Varnie had last seen Spookie alive in Sedge’s dressing room. All three of them were then busy on the set, where they were joined by the sponsor, Peter Tunning. None of them had left the set for any reason at any point. Sedge had remained in his dressing-room until he was called.

    Borne called over Ace Jellis, Trevor Holden, Peter Tunning and myself to confirm Monty’s story.

    “Who was the last person to see Miss Williams alive?” asked Borne.

    “We all were,” Monty replied.

    “Sedge was,” I couldn’t help interrupting.

    “Why do you say that?” asked Borne, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

    “She told me!” I answered. “When she left me she told me she was going to call in on Sedge.” To hold his hand!

    “I don’t understand,” murmured Borne.

    Monty had turned around and was glaring at me stonily, so I addressed my answer to him. “You remember, Monty: You, Ace and Miss Williams took me along to wardrobe and decked me out in that checked coat and the false mustache.”

    “That’s so right!” Ace Jellis agreed.

    “I was there too!” said young Trevor Holden.

    Borne exhaled softly. “None of you told me this before.”

    Each of us had a different excuse. “We were all there together!” exclaimed Monty. “What does it matter?”

    “I forgot about it,” Jellis said.

    “It was on our way,” said Trevor.

    “I was going to tell you,” I said, “but I had other things to ask you. You never gave me a chance.”

    “What does it matter?” asked Monty. “We were all of us together.” 

    “Not bloody quite!” cut in Trevor, staring at me.

    “That’s right!” Monty remembered. “Ace, Trev and I left Manning alone with the girl.”

    “In wardrobe,” Jellis agreed.

    “Now just a damn minute!” I exclaimed. “She left me in wardrobe and said she was going to call back on Sedge.”

    “Who else was present in this wardrobe?” asked Borne.

    We all looked at each other.

    Finally, Monty said, “No one.”

    “We were there by ourselves,” Jellis agreed.

    “Monty has a key,” said Trev.

    “And where is this wardrobe room?”

    Monty waved, “Upstairs.”

    “In admin,” I was quick to point out. “Not in this building. Next door.”

    “That’s right,” said Trev.

    “Do I have this straight?” Borne asked wearily. “The three of you left Miss Williams alone with Mr. Manning?”

    Three heads nodded.

    “That was the last time you saw her alive?”

    Agreed!

    “Then all three of you walked together to this set?”

    Trev elected himself spokesman. “Too right.”

    “Together?” Borne asked.

    No doubt of it.

    Borne turned to me. “So it seems you were the last person to see the girl alive?”

    I lost my block. “That’s where you’re bloody wrong!” I yelled. “Sedge was.”

    Borne stepped to the door and opened it. “All of you will wait for me here. I will want detailed statements from each of you. Keep an eye on them, Huggins! Mr. Manning and I are going to Miss Williams’ office to examine what’s left in her desk.”

    “You’re wasting your time,” I told him as we stepped across the alleyway into admin. “I’ve already been through her desk. Nothing, I told you.”

    “What you didn’t tell me was that you were possibly the last person to see her alive. What else are you holding back?”

    “You didn’t give me a chance. I didn’t mention Dune-Harrigan either. I believe these murders are connected.”

    “Who’s Dune-Harrigan?”

    “I tried to speak, but you shut me up.”

    “Tell me now.”

    I did just that. When I finished, Borne picked up Spookie’s phone and called up Michaelson of the Palm Beach police. He allowed me to listen in on the extension. At least Michaelson confirmed my facts. A preliminary autopsy report indicated murder. Although the body had suffered considerable damage from the fall and exposure, they’d been able to establish that Dune-Harrigan had been killed by a thin-bladed dagger or stiletto thrust into his heart.

    Despite the grim details, I couldn’t resist a smile of triumph.

    Inspector Borne had shaken off his lethargy and was sitting bolt upright. “I’m relieving you of the investigation, sergeant. I have a murder here of a young lady, which seems to have been committed by exactly the same method, namely a thin-bladed dagger or stiletto into the heart. How long had Dune-Harrigan been dead?”

    “We found him on the Saturday,” came Michaelson’s voice. “Prelim says likely two days. He was probably killed on Thursday.”

    “After he sent the last of the threatening letters,” I whispered.

    Borne motioned me to be quiet. “Get a courier to take the file to Central at once,” he ordered.

    “I can save you time, Inspector,” replied Michaelson. “We’re about to make an arrest.”

    “So soon?”

    “We dug up the old guy’s will.”

    “I had it sent to him,” I whispered.

    “Furthermore, we have a witness, a neighbor. A Mercedes was parked across this neighbor’s driveway, all day, Thursday. He took down the number and rang us to complain.”

    “You have a report from your officers who saw the car?”

    “No. We were undermanned that day. By the time we got there on the Friday, the car was gone.”

    Borne sighed.

    “But we’ve got the number. The car belongs to the sole beneficiary of the old guy’s will. Dune-Harrigan leaves everything to him: Royalties on his books on Old Egypt, plus the house and all its contents, free and clear.”

    “Have you interviewed him yet? He might have a watertight alibi.”

    “No, his secretary says he spent the whole day at a screening of promotional films at the Hilton. We’ve checked it out. Hundreds of people were invited. No record was kept of who came and who didn’t. And if someone did see our suspect at lunch, he could have been gone all morning or afternoon. Who can see anyone in a darkened theater?”

    “Sounds good,” Borne admitted.

    “Two of our officers are with the D.A. right now. I’ll have the arrest papers in my pocket when I interview the suspect. If he’s got no satisfactory explanation, I’ll arrest him then and there. How does that strike you?”

    “I’d still like to tie him in with this other murder. What’s his name?”

    “I think you’ll find they’re quite separate crimes, chief. Our bird’s name is Montgomery C. Fairmont.”

    I was stunned. But Inspector Borne didn’t miss a beat. He didn’t even blink. “When was the will executed?” he asked calmly.

    “Little over four months ago.”

    “Witnesses?”

    “Legal firm. Witnessed by B. Bryde and W. Wingate at Winninghan, Bryde and Wingate.

    “They’re Dune-Harrigan’s lawyers all right,” I managed to whisper.

    “I want you and all the paperwork in the Assistant Commissioner’s office in an hour.”

    “Have a heart, chief. I’ve got a hundred files pending!”

    “You heard me.”

    Borne then rang up the A.C., teed up the meeting and arranged for a court order to examine Dune-Harrigan’s will before probate.

    Mentally, I was in a state of shock, though I must have seemed reasonably alert and efficient, because Borne turned to me. “I have a job for an ex-Miami policeman.”

    “I didn’t do much police work in Miami. I spent most of my time with the D.A.”

    “I’m told you were Best Man at the D.A.’s wedding.”

    “You have been busy! A consolation prize – I wanted to marry the girl myself.”

    “Ah! So that’s why you resigned!”

    I nodded glumly.

    “I’m sure you realize how important it is not to arouse Fairmont’s suspicions before the arrest.”

    I nodded, “I’ve no great love for the guy, but I still can’t believe it!”

    “I want you to keep him under surveillance. Tag along with him as much as you can. I’m going to dismiss all the witnesses for the present, telling them we’ll re-assemble tomorrow afternoon at Winninghan, Bryde and Wingate for the reading of Miss Williams’s will.”