“What happened last night? How come Charles went to my place?”
The blonde licked her lips. “Charles got a call from the boss. He had just left Mona’s place and she didn’t have any jewels on her. Eastman had just delivered a big batch to her before the midnight show. Charles told him about you being in Mona’s dressing room. He figured you’d left them at your place. They went over there—” She dabbed at her eyes. “That’s the last I saw of Charles.”
“You didn’t see who he went with?”
Bea shook her head. “He was going to meet him in front of your hotel. He instructed Charles to come alone.”
Liddell got up, paced the room. After a moment he stopped alongside Bea’s chair. “You’d better stay under cover for a few days.” He looked up to Pinky. “Can you put her up until I wrap this up, Pink?”
“Sure,” Pinky nodded. “But what are you going to be doing in the meantime?”
“First, I’m going to patch up my relations with the press. I think Lee Morton might be more willing to cooperate if I fed him a couple of exclusives.”
“Such as?”
Liddell winked at her. “Such as the name of the killer and the head of the jewel ring.” He caught Bea by the arm, lifted her out of the chair. “You take Bea along to your place, Pink. I’ll be in touch.”
When the hall door had closed behind the two girls, Liddell picked up his phone, dialed the Dispatch.
“Let me talk to Lee Morton,” he told the metallic voiced operator. In a moment, he heard the columnist’s voice. “Morton? This is Johnny Liddell.”
“What’s on your mind? A beef about today’s column?” He didn’t sound as though he cared one way or the other.
“I’ve got a thick skin,” Liddell assured him cheerfully. “But there’s no reason why we can’t be friends. We might help each other.”
“How do you figure to help me?” the receiver demanded.
“I might have a nice juicy story for you. Exclusive.”
There was no change in the expression in the columnist’s voice. “And when might this change of operation take place?”
Liddell grinned. “You’re a suspicious sort of guy. Just to prove my good faith, I’ll give you one to start off. Bea Clarke, the sweetie of the headwaiter that was killed in my apartment, is giving herself up to the police tonight at 10.”
The columnist’s voice was cautious. “So?”
“She’ll spill the whole set-up on the jewel jobs. How they were fingered, who did the heist, everything.”
Morton sounded more interested. “Now you’re beginning to perk. No one else in on it?”
“No one else. You get it exclusive. We can even arrange for her to turn herself into you.”
“You got a deal, Liddell.” There was a change in Morton’s voice. “I’ll make it up to you. What’s the other scoop?”
“I know where to lay my hands on positive proof of who killed Mona Varden. I’m willing to turn him over to you, too. Bea spilled it without knowing how important it was—”
The columnist’s voice cracked with impatience. “What is it?”
“I’ll do better than tell you. I’ll show it to you. It’s in Mona’s flat. I’m on my way. Want to come?”
“Don’t move. I’ll pick you up at your office.”
7.
Lee Morton drove a Caddy, a ’54 convertible, with all the skill of an expert. He wove the big car through the heavy East Side traffic and pulled up at the Marlboro Towers exactly twelve minutes after leaving Liddell’s office.
Liddell led the way to the elevator, got off at Mona Varden’s floor. He looked up and down the hallway, opened the door with a key he took from his jacket pocket. The door opened noiselessly. He motioned the columnist in and closed the door after them.
Liddell produced a flashlight, ran it around the room, came to the bedroom door. He motioned for the columnist to follow him and led the way into the room where the body had been found. He seemed sure of himself, walked directly to the head of the bed, played the flashlight over the ornamental frieze, bent down to examine it more closely.
“You see, in order to see whether or not anyone on that bed was dead, you’d have to lean over. What’s the most natural thing? You hold onto the frieze to keep your balance? Right?”
Morton considered it, nodded. “It sounds all right.”
“Check. Okay, now our killer probably thought he was being very smart and wiped off all prints.” He flicked the light at the frieze. “But the chances are a hundred to one, he never remembered sticking his fingers into that frieze. His prints there will hang him.”
“The police know about this?”
Liddell shook his head. “Not yet. I just wanted to look it over before I called Herlehy. Now I’m convinced the killer’s prints are in that frieze.”
He led the way to the living room. “You hold down the fort. I’ll get Bea Clarke and the inspector.”
“Why the girl?”
Liddell shrugged. “I have a hunch she was here and found the body. Her prints may be in there. Mine are from leaning over the body. We’ll want to eliminate those.”
Morton nodded. “You’ll be back before Herlehy gets here?”
Liddell considered. “I don’t know. I’d better leave him a note of where to have the lab boys check for the prints. Got a pencil?”
He took the copy pencil the newspaperman handed him, picked up the flashlight. “I’ll just get an idea of about where to start looking. Then there’ll be no delay and you can make your deadline.”
He disappeared into the bedroom was back in a few minutes with a folded sheet of paper. “Give that to Herlehy when he gets here.”
8.
Twenty-five minutes later, Lee Morton opened the door for Inspector Herlehy and his lab crew.
“Where’s Liddell?” Herlehy growled. “I got a hurry-up call to come up here and catch a killer. This better not be one of his harebrained stunts.”
Morton shrugged, held out a folded piece of paper. “He left this for you if you got here before he did.”
Herlehy opened the note, read it with a puzzled frown. “Have lab boys check upper right quarter of bed headboard for prints of killer.” He looked to the plainclothesmen with a scowl. “How about it, Ed? Your boys check that part of the bed?”
The shorter of the two detectives shrugged. “I guess so. But it won’t do any harm to re-check. Why that particular spot?”
Morton snorted. “Liddell has some goofy idea the killer steadied himself with his hand when he leaned over Mona’s body.”
The plainclothesman considered it, shrugged. “We’ll see what we can get off it.” He led the way into the bedroom.
Herlehy tugged off his hat, tossed it on the table. “How long’d Liddell say he’d be?”
The newspaperman shrugged. “He didn’t say. He said he was going to pick up Bea Clarke, the headwaiter’s sweetie. She’s turning herself in tonight.” he consulted his watch. “In time for my first edition, I hope.”
The inspector found a fresh stick of gum, denuded it. “You’ll have plenty of news tonight. We picked up Hook Eastman, the gun on the jewel heists. Between him and the girl we should be able to start filling in.”
Liddell opened the door with his key, stepped in. He grinned at the inspector. “Glad you got here.”
“Where’s the girl?” Herlehy demanded.
“She beat me to the punch. She gave herself up an hour ago. Afraid she’d get the same medicine as Charles.”
Lee Morton jumped to his feet. “Then every reporter in town’ll have it. You promised me an exclusive, Liddell.”