Merryll Manning Is Dead Lucky (24 page)

    “What about
patients
, Nurse Withers? Do you ever receive typewritten letters from
patients
?”

    “That’s what I asked you before, sir, before you shut me up!”

    “Well, I guess you can answer the question
now
please, Nurse Withers. Do you ever receive typewritten letters from
patients
?”

    “No, sir! Where on earth could they get a typewriter from? And how would they balance it in bed? I’m sure the doctors wouldn’t allow it. A few of our patients have secretaries and they type letters, but they – ”

    “Another thing, nurse: These letters Mr. Cornbeck asked you to post, what size were they?”

    “Size? I’m sure I don’t know.”

    “Were they ordinary size, or much larger than ordinary size?”

    “They must have been just ordinary size. If they were larger, I’m sure I would have noticed. So they were just ordinary size! Just your typical-sized letters that patients always ask me to post.”   

    “That will be all, thank you, nurse.”

    “Do you wish to re-examine this witness, Mr. Spinks?”

    “No, your honor. But I must confess some of the witnesses’ testimony has caught me by surprise. I need a minute to think.”

    “The defense requests that Mr. Cornbeck be released on bail, your honor.”

    “Does the D.A.’s office have any objection, Mr. Spinks?”

    “Objection? Objection to what, your honor?”

    “Bail, Mr. Spinks!”

    “If the bail bond was set at a punitive amount, we would have no objection, your honor.”

    “Is $50,000 high enough for the D.A., Mr. Spinks?”

    “We would have no objection to $50,000, your honor. No objection at all!”

    “But the defense highly objects to a $50,000 bail bond, your honor.”

    “What amount do you have in mind, Mr. Frost?”

    “One dollar, your honor.”

    “One dollar? That’s absurd!”

    “You’re quite right, your honor. The defense therefore requests that Mr. Sedge Cornbeck be released on his own recognizance.”

    “That’s even more absurd! I’m sure the D.A. would never agree, would he, Mr. Spinks?”

    “On reflection, I don’t think the D.A. would have any objection, your honor.”

    “What the hell’s going on here between you two? Have I missed something?”

    “The D.A.’s case against the defendant has just collapsed, your honor. The threatening letters – if you can call them letters – received by the Kenovarnie personnel were all typed. Furthermore, they were all rather small in size. In fact, they were typed on little 2x3 cards with envelopes to match.”

    “Is this so, Mr. Spinks?”

    “I guess that is the case, your honor.”

    “Then it seems to me that you leave me with no alternative than to dismiss the charges you have brought against this defendant?”

    “I guess that is so, your honor.”

    “Case dismissed!”

    “Your honor, my client, Mr. Cornbeck, seeks the protection of the court, against undue harassment by the police.”

    “In what way, Mr. Frost?”

    “I would much appreciate it, your honor, if you would order that Mr. Cornbeck is not to be detained, interviewed or harassed in any way except on a warrant signed by yourself, your honor.”

    “So ordered!”

33

Boss Kent had to use a few threats and menaces himself to get Sedge back on stage, and although they were careful to remain in the background, the police backed Kent to the hilt. Sedge was forced into line, but he baulked at using his old dressing-room. In fact, he was deadly afraid of that room and there was no way he would enter it, not even to retrieve his personal belongings. So Kent was forced to make over his own executive washroom for Sedge’s use.

    And for all Sedge’s agitation, the twelfth round passed without incident. 

    Of course, all the other TV networks had now really thrown in the collective towel. The dogs scheduled against
80 Questions
had to be seen to be believed. Or rather they were
not seen
. Every cosy viewer in the country had his or her eyes glued to
80 Questions
.

    This time, the winner was a mad poet from Cincinnati who made a nuisance of himself along the Chisholm Trail and other historic landmarks in the Old West, reciting his dodgy verse to people who didn’t know any better.

    Well, would you believe Boss Kent now made a deal with CBS for re-runs and Sedge quickly became a household name in every hamlet the length and breadth of the U.S.A. But this notoriety did not improve his disposition. On the contrary, he quickly became extremely difficult to work with. In less than a week, he managed to antagonize the whole crew from Monty to me and would only talk to young Trevor Holden.

    However, I was too busy to worry about Sedge. I actually received a worth-investigating reply to my ad seeking tapes of the early
80 Questions
and finally ended up paying $500 of Mr. Kent’s money for tapes of shows three and four. I returned in triumph with the tapes. In fact, I didn’t wait for Kent’s secretary to buzz me through but walked straight into his office and laid the tapes on his desk.

    “These better be the genuine article,” he said.

    “If they’re not up to scratch, all you have to do is stop payment on your check, Mr. Kent. That’s why I had you date it tomorrow.”

    “I’ve a good mind to stop payment anyway.”

    “If you do that, we’ll lose our chance to secure the rest of the missing tapes.”

    “Do you think he has them?”

    I shrugged. “Could be! If I was in his place, I’d sell the tapes piecemeal too.” As I said this, I reached over and touched the buzzer on Kent’s desk. “Come in, Shirley…”

    “Mr. Kent wants you to take these tapes to Monty. Tell him to make copies and tell him we want them back quick smart. In fact, stay there breathing down his ear until he hands them back.”

    The girl seemed confused. She stood there, staring at Mr. Kent as if she expected him to contradict my order. “You heard what Mr. Manning said. What are you waiting for?”

    Ah! That’s what I like. I love to take charge, but sometimes you’ve got to force people like Kent to give you the authority.

    “Five hundred is a long way from fifty,” Kent grumbled, as soon as Shirley was on her way.

    “How many offers did we get for fifty? None! You’re lucky he didn’t charge us a thousand.”

    “He probably will if he has tapes one and two.”

    “What do you care?”

    “You’re right, God damn it! Those tapes are now worth a fortune.”

    “You’re just lucky that most of our cozy viewers still haven’t tumbled to that little fact.”

    “What’s next on the agenda?” Kent asked.

    “When Shirley gets back, I take the original tapes into Borne – and hopefully I’ll get to see them.”

    “I’ll come with you. I want to see those mothers myself.”

    “Don’t!” I cautioned him. “It’s wise not to appear too interested. Policemen love to suspect everyone but themselves.”   

34

Inspector Borne watched the tapes’ run-through with his usual thoroughness but lack of animation. “You’re sure it’s not Gino?” he asked for the second time.

    “As I told you, I saw him from a distance – and with a helmet on. This contestant, Bill Ceretti, on the tape could be Gino, but it’s my impression that Gino was smaller. But when I saw Gino, he was sitting on his motorbike… How about the photo Kathie’s apartment partner gave you? How does it compare?”

    Borne didn’t blink. Now he knew I knew he’d been holding out on me. “Indecisive,” he replied.

    “Can I have the tape back now? We made a copy at Kenovarnie’s, but that’s a copy of a copy. We don’t know how it will broadcast. Our Mr. Kent is thinking of Christmas replays.”   

    Borne permitted himself a thin smile. “We’ll also make a copy for ourselves.”

    “Why still so interested? Cornbeck’s guilty. He wouldn’t even enter his old dressing room – let alone use it again!”

    “Your colleagues don’t seem to share your opinion. As far as I’m aware, they haven’t made a single complaint about  working with him.”

    “You don’t know show biz. And I’m just a neophyte myself, but, believe me, it’s a closed world – with its own de rigueur rules. I don’t know a quarter of them, but one I do know is that it operates on the principle of forgetfulness. A director may be the biggest bastard on earth, a star the greatest bitch of all time, personal relationships may be as replete with tension as Cain and Abel; they may steal, slander, seduce and even murder each other; the atmosphere on the set may be like sweating in hell – but all that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the show itself and the role that everyone plays when the cameras are actually turning. Are the technicians doing their job, the players theirs? I actually talked this over a few times with Trev Holden, the young floor manager. And he said to me, ‘What Sedge does off the set doesn’t matter to us so much as a straw in a bale of hay!’ And that’s true.”

    “So even young Mr. Holden thinks Sedge is guilty?”

    “He didn’t exactly say that! What he is saying is that even if Sedge is guilty, it doesn’t matter. On the set, they don’t give a hang that he killed a gorgeous girl we all knew and liked – just so long as he does his job with reasonable efficiency. That’s show business!”

    “Maybe so, but as I told you before, I’m an old-fashioned policeman. I like to think there’s always another factor at work.”

    I hate playing straight man, but I knew Borne wouldn’t proceed without his cue: “Such as?”

    “You narrowed the list of suspects down to seven. I believe there are ten. When one of the ten is arrested, it relieves the pressure on the other nine.”

    “Are you trying to hint that Sedge isn’t guilty after all?”

    Borne’s answer was surprisingly frank: “I am.”

    “Who then? I thought you’d cleared Boss Kent, Monty Fairmont, Ace Jellis, Oscar Varnie, Bingo Frobisher, Peter Tunning and Trevor Holden?”

    “Aren’t you forgetting an important someone?”

    “Sure, a man could have had an accomplice do the actual deed, but that still makes him responsible.”

    “I’m not talking about accomplices.”

    “And I’m not counting me either. I was on the set the whole time, remember?”   

    “We have only your word for that!”

    “I was seen by at least a dozen people all the time!” I protested.

    “No-one was watching you. Your guards were watching everyone else, but not you. Do you know how long it takes to walk from the set to your dressing-room?”

    “Anything from six or seven minutes to two or three. Depends on where you start out. I bet you didn’t know that! Police investigators are notoriously sloppy. That’s why even a half-seasoned attorney can get so many confessed killers released from custody!”

    “Now with Mr. Cornbeck, we
know
he was on the set for the whole time.”

    “You know nothing of the sort. There’s often a break caused by technical or other problems. That’s why it takes three or four hours to tape a forty-minute TV quiz show. And even if he did stay on the set for the whole time – which is highly unlikely –what does that prove? He could have killed the girl before or after!”

    “We thought so too. At first. But now we’re ready to admit we may have thought wrong.”

    “That’s a pleasant surprise! A policeman actually admitting to wrong thinking?”

    “Now we’re looking in other directions.”

    “You’ve got a hell of a lot of lost time to make up. I’ve been looking in other directions from day one. I was very fond of Spookie. In fact I had great plans for her. If you don’t believe me, ask Peter Tunning.”

     Even a seasoned professional like Inspector Borne could not disguise his surprise.

     “So, besides me, who else are you including in your needs-further-investigation portfolio? Mr. Kent, I suppose. Now there’s a man who likes the ladies. Your theory no doubt is that Spookie repulsed him and that he killed her in revenge. No soap! I’ve already gone down that there trail. Kent likes ladies who are, shall we say, more fulsome.”

    “We’ve already uncovered that fact!”

    “Congratulations! Have you made any progress with Fairmont, Jellis, Tunning and Frobisher? What about old Oscar Varnie and young Trevor Holden? And let’s not forget all the women who help behind the scenes. And the office and security personnel? Have you questioned the gatemen thoroughly?”

    “We’ve investigated the whole damn lot of you. The only one of you who has a really tight alibi is young Trevor Holden. He is placed on the set by at least four witnesses who swear he never left his post. But you were seen to be wandering around all over the place. On the other hand, Tunning, Jellis and Fairmont all alibi each other. They were in the control booth the whole time. So eliminating the cameramen and people like Frobisher who never left their posts, that leaves only Kent and you. Kent we’ve already eliminated, so that leaves…”

    “For God’s sake, I was the one who narrowed the list down for you in Game One!” I shouted.

    Borne was unmoved. Even his eyes didn’t blink. He held up a folder that had been lying on his desk. A familiar manila folder. I recognized it straightaway.

    “We had some trouble getting this from the army, but in a murder investigation even personnel files are not untouchable. You know what’s in here, don’t you?”

    “Captain Murray compiled that ridiculous report through purely personal animosity.”

    “So you say. But Captain Murray is no longer with us. Also dead is Major Ellis who laid all these charges against you. In fact, you were due to be court-martialed when by a lucky chance, you dashed forward, picked up a live grenade dropped by a careless cadet and threw it into the brush and thus saved a whole platoon.”

    “My ears still hurt. In fact, they stop functioning altogether if I find myself hemmed in by some desperate situation.”

    Borne sighed. A sigh of condolence or irritation? Who knows? “The charge was dropped,” he continued, “and instead you were invalided out of the army as a hero. You went to Miami and made use of your hero status to join the police force. Now, you know me and I’m well aware how these things work. The army looks after its own.”