“I tell you he must be at the bottom of it,” she said almost angrily. “It’s the kind of thing he’d do. I’m sure you’re wrong.”
“Okay, skip that for a minute,” I said impatiently. “Tell me what you’re doing here. I’m looking for Marian French.” I snapped my fingers impatiently. “But of course you wouldn’t know her.”
“Yes, I do,” Audrey returned quickly. “She’s a new member of the Gazette’s staff.”
I scowled at her. “Yeah; now you tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I saw her picture in the Street-Camera window this afternoon. So I thought I’d come out here just to prove to myself that Starkey is connected with the kidnapping.”
“But why here?” I asked, puzzled. “She did come here, because I found the address in her room, but how did you know?”
She looked at me uneasily. “This is the house where they found one of the girls’ shoes,” she told me. “I’ve been watching it off and on for days, and when I saw them put Marian French’s picture in the window I had a hunch to come out here. So I got the key from the agent and... and here I am.”
I felt suddenly spooked. “We’ve wasted enough time already,” I growled. “Come on, we’re going to take a look at this joint. Give me your flashlight.”
Together we went into the gloomy lobby. Ahead of us were stairs. Wallpaper hung in strips and great patches of damp stains showed on the walls.
I pulled my gun and began to walk softly up the stairs. They creaked under my weight. Audrey followed me and we reached the first landing. Three doors faced us. In the second room we found Marian French. She was sprawled on the dusty floor. Her hands still clawed at the cord wrapped and knotted about her throat, Her eyes stared, glassily. Her face was distorted with agony and congested with blood. Her simple blue and white check frock was covered in dust and torn from one white shoulder. She was dead. There was no possible doubt about that. There was nothing I could do for her. Marian French was dead.
I heard Audrey catch her breath and I put my hand on her arm, but couldn’t say anything. I was bewildered, stunned.
We stood looking down at the pathetic but dreadful-looking body for several minutes and then Audrey put her hands to her face and screamed, making a soft, far-away sound of shocked fear. I gripped her arm tightly.
“Steady,” I said softly. “Get a grip on yourself. There’s work to be done.”
She turned away from the body. “I’m all right,” she said through gritted teeth. “It... it just — this is dreadful, isn’t it?”
I grunted and walked over to where Marian lay. Not looking at her twisted, distorted face, I touched her shoulder. Her flesh was cold and wax-like to my touch and I stood away and cursed softly.
“Whoever did this’ll burn,” I said, half to myself. “I’ve fooled around long enough on this job, but now I’m going to start something.” I jerked around and grabbed Audrey by her arm. “You know what this means, don’t you?” I said viciously. “The technique’s the same. Those four other girls went the same way. You can bet your life on that. Are you going to help me find the swine who’s doing this or are you still sticking to your precious little Agency?”
She met my angry, challenging look. “I deserved that,” she said, quietly. “But I did think Starkey was at the back of it and I did think I could handle it. I’ll help you if you want me to.”
“Swell,” I said, pushing her to the door. “Come on, we have to get the cops.”
“Will that do any good?” she asked.
“Macey must see for himself. He can’t back out of this now. We’ll split the town wide open. Come on, let’s get to a telephone.”
Together we left the house, slammed the front door and ran across to a house opposite. I kept my thumb on the bell push until a fat little man in his shirtsleeves jerked open the front door and glared at me.
“Where’s the fire?” he demanded, thumbing a scrubby moustache and staring at Audrey’s dirty face with disapproval.
“There’s been a murder across at 37,” I told him. “I want to use your phone.”
His eyes popped. “Murder?” he repeated. “Who? At 37? Why, it’s empty.”
I elbowed my way into the house. “I want to get the police,” I said. “Where do I find the phone?”
He showed me, and as I was dialling a woman came out of the sitting room and stared at Audrey and then at me.
The fat little man said: “They say there’s been a murder at 37.” He was getting quite a bang out of it.
The woman — fiftyish, grey hair and stiff — eyed Audrey steadily and said, “Nonsense. Send them away,” and went back into the sitting room.
“You’ll have to go,” the little man said miserably. “She thinks you’re drunk. I know. I can tell by the way she looked at you.”
“Nuts,” I said, then as a voice growled ‘Police Headquarters’ in my ear, I asked for Beyfield.
He came on the line after a moment’s delay. “Grab the wagon and come over here fast,” I told him. “I’m reporting a murder at 37 Victoria Drive.”
“Who’s speaking?” he demanded in his rumbling voice.
“Deanna Durbin,” I said, and hung up.
The little man had the front door open and was waiting for us to go, but I took no notice of him. I dialled the number Reg Phipps had given me and when I heard him come on the line I broke the news as gently as I could. I could tell at once the kid was upset, but he was too much of a newspaperman to waste time with words.
“We’ll get that son of a bitch,” he said. “If you don’t, I will.”
I said we’d get him all right. “Come down here, Reg,” I said, “and bring Latimer if you can find him. He’s checking on Starkey, and you pick him up with any luck at Lefty’s. I want him to take Miss Sheridan, to a hotel and sit with her until we’re through with this.”
He said “Okay” and hung up.
Audrey looked at me kind of old-fashioned, but she didn’t say anything until we were on the street again.
“What’s this hotel stuff?” she said. “You’re not keeping me out of this.”
“I am,” I said firmly. “Macey and Starkey are working together. If Macey spots you, he’ll tip Starkey and then something you won’t like will happen. Don’t forget Starkey wants you badly. Until I’ve fixed him, you won’t be safe.”
“I’ll chance it,” she said. “Now things have started, I must be on the job. I can’t afford—”
But I stopped her. “You and I are working together,” I reminded her. “You must keep out of sight, so please don’t make things difficult.” I gave her the key to the Gazette offices. “Go to the Gazette and wait for Latimer to pick you up. I’ll tell him to get you into a hotel for the night, and as soon as I’m through with the police I’ll join you. There’s a lot we have to talk about. Without you I’m going to have a load of trouble sorting things out.”
As I was talking a yellow cab cruised past and I yelled at it. Still protesting, Audrey got into the cab.
“I’ll be along in a couple of hours,” I promised. “Don’t let anyone in unless they knock three times, two short and a long tap. That’ll be Latimer. You can trust him. Sorry about this, kid, but we can’t afford to take chances now.”
She was beginning to say something when we heard the distant wail of a siren.
“Save it,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you,” and I slammed the cab door and told the driver to step on it.
The cab and the police car passed each other at the end of the street. As the police car pulled up with a squeal of brakes outside No. 37 I crossed the street and joined the three men who had piled out of the car.
I recognized Beyfield, but the other two I hadn’t seen before. The driver, who was in uniform, climbed out of the car and eyed me suspiciously.