Murder in the Telephone Exchange (43 page)

The music slowed to an end, and I jerked myself into the present hideous nightmare. I had a job to do. I must keep all these people from going upstairs and finding Mac. I must not allow a panic to begin. But even as I hurried forward, someone pulled me gently aside, and I felt a strong arm around my shoulders.

“The key, Miss Byrnes. Give it to me,” said Sergeant Matheson. Although his voice was kind, the note of authority in it made me unclose my fist. He took it out of my hand and left me standing there, staring at the red mark it had made on my palm.

The music stopped, and the pianist played the final chords, indicating the definite end of the number. I made as if to go forward, but stopped suddenly as I saw John Clarkson standing on the edge of the dais near the microphone. The dancers crowded up towards the platform, and I edged as near as I could. As I looked up into Clark's face I saw that he was smiling, a ghastly imitation of his usual grin, and wondered what he was about to do. He held up one hand for silence, the other gripping the stem of the microphone until the knuckles showed white.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, speaking quietly yet distinctly. “Owing to an—unforeseen occurrence, supper has been delayed.” There was a slight stir amongst the crowd, and one or two called out at him in a mock-annoyed fashion. Clark raised his hand again. “I know, I know,” he said. “You're hungry. So am I, but I have been commissioned by the organizers of this dance to amuse you for a few minutes, so let's see what I can do on an empty stomach.”

The crowd laughed gaily. I stood very still, watching him tensely. How long was this hideous parody to go on?

‘Tell them,' my brain shrieked. ‘Tell them what has happened in the restroom above their silly, empty heads. That will stop their laughter and their inane remarks.'

“I have a little game for you all to play,” Clark continued, and a groan went up. “I want you to get as near as you can to the partners you danced with to-night. Come on now, boys. Find that girl you were kissing on the roof a few minutes ago.”

There was a scramble as the crowd broke and formed into groups, giggling and throwing silly remarks at each other. Someone protested that he had not been dancing. I think that it was Miles Dunn, one of the Heads from the Department. Clark bent down to call over the noise: “Get near the people you were talking to, then.”

The chattering abated, and they looked towards the dais, awaiting instructions.

“Just a minute,” Clark said. “I'm in on this, too.” He looked round the crowd, until his eyes met mine. For a second he held my gaze, and I saw one finger brush his lips.

“Come on, Maggie,” he called. “You were with me a while back, and Gloria. Where's Gloria Patterson?”

“I'm here, Clark,” she said, coming forward.

“Right you are! You two girls come nearer to the microphone. I could swear that there were some others. Step forward, the girls I honoured to-night,” and one or two joined us at the foot of the dais, bringing with them other swains. Clark grinned down on us cheerfully. He was throwing everything that he had into this absurd game, and only I knew the effort that it must be taking.

“Are we all ready?” he asked, and an assenting murmur went up. “Now this is the game. Don't delude yourselves that I have made it up on the spur of the moment. I have a name for it. It is called ‘Alibis'.”

I guessed then what he was up to. I stole a glance behind me to see how the crowd was taking it. Some looked surprised, while others seemed frankly puzzled.

Clark continued: “I am giving you boys and girls a chance to check up on each other. For instance, you, George,” he turned towards the left, “will be able to discover if Joan has been behaving herself to-night, and not been flirting with anyone else. Let us hope that Mrs. Scott will be able to give an account of her actions without raising the suspicions of our Senior Traffic Officer. Where are you, Mr. Scott, by the way?”

“Right here,” he replied. Everyone turned their heads to the doorway where Bertie stood beside his wife. I thought that he looked slightly annoyed; small wonder in the face of Clark's audacious remark.

“Now, good people,” John Clarkson continued. “The instructions are as follows. You are to question each other as to your respective movements. Those who can prove that they have been on this floor of the Exchange building all night, please step aside. The others, who stole a few minutes on the roof or elsewhere, give their reasons why. I, myself, will conduct my inquiry with these charming ladies, who are at my feet; literally, not metaphorically, of course.”

A buzz of talk broke out. As Clark leaped lightly down from the dais, the greater portion of the crowd stood aside.

“Where's Sergeant Matheson, Clark?” asked Gloria plaintively. “l had two dances with him.”

“Just one moment,” he returned, and raised his voice over our heads. “It appears as if the sheep have separated themselves from the wolves. Will the sheep please proceed to the supper-room on the eighth floor, and
start eating.”

An indignant murmur arose from the small group left standing on the floor as the “sheep” filed out, jostling one another.

“Don't worry,” Clark went on. “There's an—interesting outcome to this game, that they'll miss more than you will your supper. Get going, folks.”

As the last wave of the crowd swamped through the door, I saw Bertie still standing with his wife. His eyes had never left Clark's face since that first remark.

“I can't see Sergeant Matheson anywhere,” Gloria declared.

“Perhaps he's one of the sheep,” suggested Mavis Hemingway. Gloria shook her head. “He's telling fibs if he's gone with the others,” she asserted, “because I saw him going downstairs a while back.”

“Never mind about him,” Clark said. “We'll concentrate on you first, Gloria. Can you tell us your movements to-night, without making me jealous?”

“Oh, Clark!” Gloria exclaimed, in what I can only describe as a simpering voice. How canny Clark was! Such a remark put Gloria into a good mood, when she would be neither suspicious nor apprehensive, and would reply with truth.

“Well, go on,” he said, and I could detect an underlying anxiety in his voice, “What time did you arrive?”

“It was about 9 p.m.,” Gloria replied. “I was held up in town by a friend of mine. In fact I thought that I would be the last to arrive,” and she cast a malevolent glance in my direction. I smiled slightly; we must have spoilt her entrance.

“Let me see,” Gloria went on. “With whom did I dance first? There were so many—oh, it was you, Jim, wasn't it?” she added, turning to Mavis Hemingway's partner. He nodded without enthusiasm. It was obvious that Gloria's glamour meant nothing to him.

She went on to name a couple of other lads, trying to express by direct innuendo how much in demand she had been all the evening. “I finally escaped,” she said, with an artificial laugh, “and ran upstairs.”

“What time was that?” asked Clark in a bantering tone. “Were you with anyone?”

“It was about 9.30 p.m. I told the boys I was skipping that dance, as I wanted to—” She paused, and remained with her mouth open slightly, gazing from Clark to me.

“Go on,” he said encouragingly.

“I wanted to see if the supper arrangements were all right,” she finished slowly.

I stared at her profile. “That's funny,” I remarked. “I thought that you were one of the ticket secretaries.”

“Why is it funny?” Gloria snapped, turning towards me. “There is no reason why I should be interested in only one thing. I may have been able to help.”

‘Oh, yeah?' I thought. ‘As if you'd do more than your share in anything.'

“Did you see anyone?” asked Clark quickly. “Didn't any of the boys follow you upstairs?”

Gloria smiled at him meltingly. Silently I congratulated Clark on his tact. “I would have told them off properly, if they had. I didn't see anyone around on the eighth floor, only one—” Again she stopped, and I saw her face whiten a little.

“Only one of the cleaners,” I finished for her. She didn't turn towards me this time, though I continued to gaze at her half-averted head.

“I had a dance with you about 10.30 p.m.,” said Clark teasingly. “So there is a whole hour for you to account for. Are you sure you were unaccompanied?”

“I was only away for a few minutes. Then I came back here and danced. Sergeant Matheson insisted on having two running. I thought you'd brought him along, Maggie,” she finished in a patronizing voice.

“He only wanted to see you,” I told her gravely. “I was the means to the end.” I felt Clark's foot touch mine, as Gloria swallowed this with a self-satisfied expression on her face. It made me nearly laugh outright. Mavis was less controlled than I, and was compelled to turn a giggle into a cough. Gloria appeared to take no notice.

“Then there was that one with you,” she said to Clark, her eyes darkening, “which I was enjoying very much until Maggie came along. Did you think that it was an Excuse-me, darling?” she asked me very sweetly.

“I have to get partners somehow, Gloria dear,” I answered confidentially, and to my amazement I believe that she actually swallowed that too.

“I am sure Clark would have danced with you some time during the evening, wouldn't you, Clark?” Her tone conveyed that perhaps out of the kindness of his heart, he would have spared me one.

“Well,” Clark said heartily. “That's fixed you up. Between 9.30 p.m. and 10 p.m. you were somewhere on the eighth floor, but you refuse to say with whom.”

“I wasn't with anyone,” Gloria declared, becoming a little annoyed.

Clark raised one finger. “Now, now,” he said idiotically. “You can't expect us to believe that; not a pretty girl like you!” But Gloria did not react to the treatment as she had done before. I shook my head at Clark. With a slight shrug, he turned to Mavis Hemingway.

“And what have you been up to?” he asked brightly.

Mavis looked at her partner, and they smiled self-consciously at each other. Light broke on Clark, but I was frankly puzzled at the idiotic expression on their faces.

“Not really!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand to Jim. “Do the boys in the power-room know about this yet? Or are we the first?”

“Are you just engaged, Mavis?” drawled Gloria. “My best wishes. But fancy being proposed to in a place where you both work! How extraordinary!”

I shook hands warmly with Jim. He was a nice lad, and a promising engineer. “All the best, Mavis. Don't make us wait too long, will you?”

“I gather that you were in some quiet secluded spot,” said Clark, grinning naturally for the first time. “If it isn't too indiscreet—”

“On the roof,” Jim replied bashfully. “We took the lift up.”

“That rules you two out,” remarked Clark absently, I nudged him warningly as Gloria looked up. She made as if to speak, but I got in first, saying with a forced laugh: “I think it's your turn, Clark. Stand quietly, while we fire questions at you.”

“I got here about 8.30 p.m.,” he began, “but I was in the trunkroom for about half-an-hour before I came upstairs to the dance; some time before your party arrived, Maggie. I had a dance with Joyce Mettiam—where is she, by the way?”

“A sheep,” I told him, “She's gone to supper.”

“Has she? Then you arrived. I thought that I'd give you a break, but you were booked with Sergeant Matheson. I sighed with relief, until you insisted on having the next. So I danced with Mavis here; I know now why you trembled in my arms, Mavis. At the time I thought it was for love of me.”

“I am so sorry to disappoint you,” she returned with a mock curtsey.

“Not at all, but Jim's a lucky fellow. After that dance, my fair interrogators, Maggie grabbed me—”

“You're a brute,” I interrupted heatedly. I could see that Gloria was taking all his nonsense at its face value. Heaven knew what stories she would spread around the trunkroom at the first available opportunity.

“During the course of the gyration, which, with any other but Maggie, would have been a dance, she ordered me to put up a line in the trunkroom to amplify the music downstairs, in order to while away the tedium of working.”

“I didn't,” I protested. “It was your idea.”

“So, obediently,” Clark went on, ignoring the interruption, “I betook myself down to the power-room, and spent the next half-hour or so
running from the first floor to the sixth and back here to the seventh making noises like a sheep to ensure perfect transmission in order to please Miss Byrnes.”

“My grateful thanks,” I said dryly.

“I'm glad to hear them,” Clark retorted, “for when I returned to reclaim the rest of my dance, Mavis, Gloria and Jim, the bird had flown. In simpler parlance, Maggie had disappeared.”

“Low trick,” commented Mavis, smiling at me. “Where did you get to, my girl, and with whom?”

I started to become worried, and looked at Clark for guidance. He was sailing close to the wind. Did he want me to tell where I had been or not? He nodded slightly.