Two uniformed officers jumped out, and I found myself bundled into the radio car. Two minutes later I was in an office at the airport with the officers questioning me, and a man in civilian clothes taking notes.
“What’s your name?” one of the officers asked.
I told him.
“Let’s see your driving license.”
I gave it to him.
“This your car?”
“It’s the agency car.”
“What were you doing out here?”
“Meeting a girl who was coming in on a plane.”
“What’s her name?”
I told him.
“What was the flight number?”
I gave him that information.
“Who’s the man in your trunk?”
I said, “From the look I had, I think he’s Carter J. Holgate but I can’t be certain.”
“Who’s Carter Holgate?”
“A real estate agent, a subdivider.”
“You know him?”
“Of course I know him. Otherwise I wouldn’t know who he was.”
“When did you see him last?”
“Sometime yesterday, late yesterday afternoon.”
“How did the body get in the trunk of your car?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Anything else?”
I said, “A lot else. I have been talking with Lorraine Robbins. She—”
“Who’s she?” the officer interrupted.
“Carter Holgate’s secretary.”
“Where does she live?”
“Miramar Apartments, Colinda.”
“All right, what were you talking with her about?”
“About Holgate. She was worried about him.”
“She evidently had good reason to be. What did she say?”
“He hadn’t been home all night and she was worried.”
“She living with him?”
“No. She knew he was missing.”
“How did she know he was missing?”
“We tried to locate him last night.”
“You say, we did?”
“That’s right.”
“You were with her?”
“Part of the time.”
“And what were you trying to do?”
“We were trying to locate Carter Holgate.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had broken into his office.”
“What time was that?”
“You mean when we were looking for him? I don’t know. I didn’t notice the time particularly. I know it was late. Probably after midnight.”
“How did you know someone had broken into his office?”
“Because we were in his office.”
“What were you looking for?”
“Holgate.”
“Why?”
“I had some things I wanted to discuss with him.”
“What?”
“An automobile accident.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know whether I care to make a statement about the accident at this time.”
“Look, Buddy,” the officer said, “you’re in bad. You’re a private detective. You’re smart enough to know the spot you’re in. You’d better come clean.”
“I’m coming clean.”
“Not if you hold out about an accident, you aren’t.”
I said, “What happened to the girls who were in the automobile with me?”
“Here at the airport?”
“Yes.”
“They’re being questioned.”
I said, “One of them, the blonde, was involved in the accident.”
“What’s her name?”
“Vivian Deshler.”
“What’s the other’s name?”
“Doris Ashley.”
“When did you get in touch with her?”
“This morning.”
“What time?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“Where?”
“At her apartment.”
“What for?”
“So we could drive out here and meet Miss Deshler.”
“What about Holgate’s office being broken into?”
“There was pretty much of a wreck there, as though a fight had taken place in the office.”
“That was reported to the authorities?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“His secretary thought that it might be better to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait to see what happened this morning.”
“Well, it happened this morning all right,” the officer said. “Now, we’ve got some work to do and some things to check. I want you to sit down here at this desk and write out just what you’ve told me. Write everything you know about the case.”
I said, “Look, do you know Sergeant Frank Sellers?”
“Sure, we know him.”
“I know him, too,” I said. “Get hold of Sellers and I’ll talk with him. In the meantime, I’m not going to do any writing.”
“You’re not going to do what?”
“Not going to do any writing.”
“You know what that means, Buddy. You’re leading with your chin.”
“All right, I’ll lead with my chin. But I’ll talk with Sellers and in the meantime I’m not doing any writing.”
“Okay, we’ll call Sellers. We’ll probably take you up there.”
An officer went to the telephone and talked in a low voice for a while. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then I was left alone in the room for what must have been twenty minutes.
Then two officers came in, bringing Doris Ashley and Vivian Deshler.
The officer got right down to business.
“You girls sit down over here,” he said.
Doris gave me a reassuring smile.
Vivian Deshler looked me over speculatively.
“Now then, Lam,” the officer said, “you saw an automobile accident in Colinda on the thirteenth of August.”
“What of it?”
“Describe the accident.”
“Well, it was just an accident where somebody ran into the rear of the automobile in front.”
“Who was that somebody?”
“Carter Holgate.”
“Who was in the car in front?”
“Miss Deshler, here.”
“You’re positive?”
“Of course, I didn’t know her at the time but now that I’ve seen her I know she’s the one.”
“All right, describe the accident.”
“Well, that’s about all there was to it.”
“Go ahead, describe it. How did it happen?”
“Well,” I said, “there was a string of cars.”
“How big a string?”
“I think there were two ahead of Miss Deshler’s car and then of course Holgate’s car was right behind hers.”
“So that would make four all together?”
“Right.”
“All right, what happened?”
“Well, they approached the intersection.”
“What intersection?”
“Seventh and Main in Colinda.”
“Where were you?”
“I was on the west side of Main Street.”
“How far back from the intersection?”
“Probably seventy-five or a hundred feet.”
“What happened?”
“I think Holgate had been trying to speed up to get around the line of automobiles ahead. When he saw he couldn’t make it, he tried to get back in line and he was going pretty fast.”
“Why couldn’t he make it?”
“Well, I guess he wanted to get in the left-hand lane so he could pass while the signal was in his favor and—”
“And he saw he couldn’t make it?”
“I guess so. I couldn’t read his mind. All I could tell was what happened from the way he drove the car.”
“The reason he couldn’t make it, then, must have been that the traffic signal was changing.”
“Could be.”
“Then he was watching the signal.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“The only other reason would have been that there were cars in front of him on the left.”