Murder in the Telephone Exchange (33 page)

“It's the first dog-watch we have worked for a while,” I said soothingly, “and all-nights take some getting used to. Were Gloria and I the only ones missing when the Heads walked in? Incidentally, how like them to come in without any warning. To-morrow night I'll ring Bertie's number, and drag him out of bed just to punish him.”

“They arrived soon after you two women went ghost hunting. By the way, did you succeed in banishing the phantom?”

“For a while. It reappeared later when I was having a sleep in the restroom.”

Clark looked at me admiringly. “You've certainly got iron nerves to be able to fall asleep peacefully in that room.”

“Never again,” I assured him firmly. I went on to tell him about the mysterious prowler and my subsequent inquiries in the first-floor apparatus room.

“Do you think we'll be able to trace the name of that man?”

“Your doctor pal?” Clark asked, grinning as Dan Mitchell had at the ruse I had used to disguise the nature of the call. “I should say that it would be a long and tedious job; in fact, well-nigh impossible. My advice is as before. Leave well alone. So will you kindly come in and do some work, and forget all this nonsense?”

“I want to see justice done,” I said gravely, following him.

“So do I. But I fail to see how calling unfortunate subscribers at three in the morning is going to help. The best thing you can do is to go and see that flatfoot friend of yours and turn on the glamour. He might be able to start the ball rolling again.” This struck me as a good idea, but I didn't tell Clark that Sergeant Matheson had seemed rather keen to see me again.

“Where do you want me to work?”

“You can let those interstate girls have a break. If you are looking round for your outfit, it's over where you left it on the country boards.”

“Thanks. I'm in a bit of a daze, Clark,” I added softly.

“Well?” he asked, half turned to the Senior Traffic Officer's table.

“I'm terribly sorry if I made you anxious.” There was a slight pause.

“You nearly had me demented,” he said gruffly. I went lightly down the room to collect my telephone.

The girl on the first Adelaide position was supporting a heavy head in her hands as I plugged in on the board.

“Go and sleep in the right place,” I advised, leaning over her shoulder to pick up a light in the panel. “Just a minute, Ad.”

“I've been calling you for five minutes,” declared a peevish voice.

“Well, another few seconds won't make any difference,” I replied testily. “Get out—quickly, Miller, before she lays an egg.”

Adelaide ordered three or four calls in quick succession. I glanced at the clock in surprise. “What's wrong with you over there? Don't your subscribers go to bed?”

“I'm sure I don't know,” she answered on a yawn. I glanced down at the calling number on the in-docket under my fingers. Even interstate numbers became familiar after a while. The calls originated from the South Australian Police Headquarters.

“Looks interesting!” I remarked, dialling out. “Have they caught spring-heeled Jack?”

“I'm here to switch, not to listen in on calls,” Adelaide replied primly. “Anyway they want the calls on the secrecy line.” I re-switched their position, feeling thwarted.

“O.K. They're waiting. I'll meet you on three.”

“You look as if you're making up for lost time,” John Clarkson said in my right ear. “What's happened in Adelaide to cause this rush?”

“Police calls,” I answered briefly.

“We'll have a delay if she keeps on going like this,” Clark observed with raised brows. “An unheard-of occurrence at this hour! Is that a call on the secrecy?”

I went in on the observing line and heard a distorted jangling of voices. There was absolutely no chance of overhearing anything on secrecy. “It looks like a big-noise confab to me.”

“I suppose so,” Clark replied, without interest. “Watch them, Maggie. The Adelaide lines have been a bit dicky.”

“Like a mother,” I promised, and he grinned. He made as if to say something but evidently thought better of it. He turned back to the Senior Traffic Officer's table without comment.

The remaining hours of the dog-watch dragged on, but not without further disturbances. As I went to switch near Gloria Patterson, she remarked snappishly: “If you start any more funny business, I'll report you to Mr. Scott.”

“What funny business?” I asked innocently.

She hunched one shoulder. “You know very well; asking me stupid questions, and then locking me in the dormitory.”

“I locked you in the dormitory,” I repeated, surprised.

“Don't keep repeating my words,” Gloria answered crossly. “I'm going to put down what you did, if I get a report to-morrow.”

“Do as you please, of course. But just as a matter of interest, I have been nowhere near the dormitory since I came on at eleven.”

“That's what you say,” she replied viciously.

“This accusing me of locking doors seems to be becoming a habit. How did you get out?”

“Clark was looking for both of us. Mr. Scott had come in, and we should have been in the trunkroom. He was furious when you didn't turn up.”

“So I gathered. However all is now forgiven and forgotten. There is just one point that I want to query; that is, if it doesn't come under the heading of funny business. How come you were locked in the dormitory and yet you were making a call from the restroom at the same time?” I watched her profile keenly.

“That was after—” she began quickly and then stopped, turning her head away from me. “I haven't used the restroom 'phone all night.”

“You borrowed that bit from me,” I accused her. “It's no use telling me lies, my sweet. I'm one of those people who know all. Yes, like your late bosom friend, I agree. You were quite definitely making a call when I was down in the apparatus room on the first floor.”

“You mean that you listened in?” she asked angrily.

“No, I didn't. To be quite honest, I meant to. But something more interesting than a practical lesson on how to tame man, which I suppose your call was about, turned up. You went out of my head completely. Isn't that strange?” Gloria made no comment. She busied herself needlessly with some re-booked dockets.

“Leave them alone,” I ordered. “You'll mess up my system. Tell me, Gloria, keeping in mind my little threat of blackmail, did you turn out the cloakroom light about half an hour after our chat in the restroom and re-enter to dial a number in the dark?”

She turned her head. “I've told you I was locked in the dormitory,” she replied stubbornly, “and I won't answer another question, so hold your tongue.”

“You will,” I said cheerfully, getting up to lower the back of my chair, “and they won't only come from me. It's quite on the cards that the case of the murdered monitor is going to be reopened to-morrow.” I moved quickly. The flex of my outfit tugged at its plug as I caught her before she
slid to the floor.

“Gloria,” I said urgently, stripping off her telephone and throwing it on to the boards with a clatter.

John Clarkson came up at a run. “What's up now?” he asked in a resigned voice. “Has she really fainted? Or is it another act?”

“Don't be so callous,” I rebuked him. “I'll help you to carry her to the dormitory if you like.”

Clark slid an arm under Gloria's shoulders, and hoisted her none too gently. “I think I can manage.”

As Gloria's head fell back over his arm, and golden hair streamed all over Clark's dark sleeve, the other telephonists watched the operation with interest. A faint or two is all in the day's work to us. But the sight of John Clarkson carrying a wilting blonde down the room was worthy of the movies. l must have appeared rather superfluous bringing up the rear. I wasn't going to leave Clark alone with a swooning vamp like Gloria, who would make as much as she could out of the situation.

Clark placed her carefully on one of the beds in the dormitory and stood aside, panting a little. “I had no idea she'd be so heavy. Shall I get water or something?”

“No need,” I replied, bending over her. “I think she's coming round.”

Gloria's eyelids were flickering. She murmured softly, opening her eyes: “Where—where am I?”

I giggled as Clark said with a wealth of expression in his tone: “I knew it!”

“Don't spoil it,” I reproached him. “You fainted in the trunkroom, Gloria. Mr. Clarkson carried you up here. How do you feel?”

Inevitably, she put one limp hand to her forehead. “Terrible! Could I have a drink of water?” She gave me an appealing look which I ignored. Clark went to the other end of the room to the wash-basin.

“It's odd the way you went out to it, Gloria,” I observed, completely callous. “I remember that I had just told you that—”

“I heard what you said,” she interrupted snappishly. “And if you think that made me faint, you're quite wrong. As a matter of fact, I haven't been feeling too well all night.”

Clark came back with a glass in his hand. “You'd better stay here for a while. Will you be all right by yourself, or would you like Miss Byrnes to keep you company?”

“No,” Gloria snapped again. Clark shrugged.

“Come along then, Maggie. You may take your time, Miss Patterson.”

“Don't you let her lock me in again,” Gloria shrieked after us.

“What is she talking about?” Clark asked, closing the door quietly. “I
don't know what possessed me to change with Bancroft. It's been a hell of a night!”

I nodded sympathetically. “It has indeed. Still, this sort of thing can't go on indefinitely. The rest of the week will be nice and quiet.”

“I don't know,” he answered gloomily, keeping step as we went back to the trunkroom.

“Don't tell me you're developing an instinct!” I laughed mockingly. “I thought that belonged to the female sex only.”

Clark stopped, and caught me roughly by the shoulders. I was standing a step above him and our eyes were on the same level.

“It's you,” he said in a hard voice. “You worry me to death wondering what you're up to, and what's going on in that keen brain of yours. It is, you know, Maggie. You are a very intelligent person. That is what makes you so attractive. I'm frightened you might come to some harm through your very acuteness.”

His words thrilled me, almost unbearably. They were so very unexpected. I felt tongue-tied. “Don't worry about me,” I stammered. “Please!”

Clark released me abruptly. We went on. “Margaret,” he said.

“Yes, John,” I asked softly. He threw out his hands in a helpless gesture.

“Just—be careful.”

“Don't worry,” I repeated, trying not to sound forlorn. “There's an old woman up home who is always telling me that I was born to be hanged, not murdered.”

“That's not funny,” he said in a tight voice.

“No, I suppose not,” I answered reflectively, “though the angle from which you are thinking did not occur to me when I spoke. Many a true word, etc. Doesn't that sound trite?”

Clark laughed shortly. We stopped outside the trunkroom door. “Maggie, you're impossible! Are we playing golf on Sunday?”

“I'd like to if my mother can come too. She's in town.” He glanced at me quizzically, and I felt myself reddening. “She'll probably clean us both up,” I went on hurriedly. “You'll enjoy a game with her.”

“I'm sure I will. Morning or afternoon?”

“Say late afternoon. It'll be light enough. Don't forget that we both have to work all night tomorrow.”

“I'm not forgetting,” Clark said with a mock groan. “I wonder if Bancroft would like to switch back to his original shift.”

“Don't do that,” I said, without thinking. “I mean—it's a foul enough shift without having an old maid of a traffic officer on duty.”

“I won't change,” he promised, laughing gently. I felt absurdly elated as we entered the trunkroom.

The last few hours before the early morning calls were always the most tedious of the all-night shift. There was never very much work to do. I kept my eyes idly on a patch of sky waiting for the stars to fade one by one. The blackness paled to grey and the clouds gathered towards the east, awaiting the sun. It was going to be another hot day, and the light breeze that fluttered the dockets anchored on the boards by odd pencils held the promise of developing into that scorching dusty north wind that most people loathe. Almost imperceptibly the grey light deepened into lemon and then a rich saffron, while the clouds became pink-tipped as the sun neared the horizon. Gradually long beams shot up from behind the distant mountains, which seemed themselves ablaze with light. The dazzling midsummer sun edged up inch by inch until the trunkroom was aglow with golden light, and I was forced to remove my eyes.