“Frank Ferney, her ex-husband.”
“And her name?”
“Dawn Manning is her professional name.”
“What profession?”
“You should ask me! You’re an officer.”
“And how did you happen to get into this stolen car?”
“You’re certain it was stolen?”
“That’s right. A Cadillac, license number CVX 266. It was stolen last night.”
“I’ll bet she did that so no one could trace her.”
“Well, suppose you tell us about it,” Tragg said.
“I had a little dinner party last night, a foursome, people who were very intimate friends — a married couple.
“We ran out of cigarettes and ice cubes. I went out to get them and a few other supplies. My friends were watching television.
“It was sometime after eight o’clock, eight-forty-five perhaps. I had stopped to wait for a traffic signal. When the signal changed, I started to walk across, and this car swung right in front of me, blocking the way. It came to a stop. The right-hand door swung open and Dawn Manning said, ‘Get in.’ ”
“You know her?” Tragg asked.
“I’ve never met her, but I know her by sight.”
“She knows you?”
“Apparently.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Get in, Loretta, I want to talk with you.’ ”
“What did you do?”
“I hesitated and she said again, ‘I can’t stay here all night, I’m blocking traffic. Get in.’ ”
“Then what happened?”
“There was something in her voice that alarmed me. I started to pull back and then I saw the gun she was pointing at me. She was holding it right on a level with the seat. She said, with deadly earnestness, ‘I said get in, and I meant it. You and I are going to have a talk.’ ”
“So what did you do?”
“I got in. I thought perhaps that would be the best thing to do. I felt certain she was going to shoot if I refused to get in the car.”
“Then what?”
“She started to drive like mad. She was half-hysterical, pouring out a whole mess of things.”
“Such as what?”
“That Frank — that’s Frank Ferney, her ex-husband — had told her over a year ago that he’d gone to Reno and secured a divorce. Dawn said she had acted on the assumption she was free to remarry. Then she’d decided to check up on it, and an attorney had told her no such divorce had ever been granted, that Frank had admitted he’d never gone ahead to finish the divorce and wouldn’t do so unless he received a piece of money. He said some rich amateur photographer was giving Dawn a tumble.
“She was so mad about it I thought perhaps she’d shoot Frank and me, too. She said I’d been playing around with Frank and she was going to make us both sign a statement.”
“Did she say what would happen otherwise?”
“No, she didn’t say, but she had that gun.”
“Go on,” Tragg said. “Take it from there.”
“She was like a crazy woman. I think she was half-hysterical and jealous and upset and frightened. She drove the car like mad and when we came to Borden’s place she started to turn in, and, just as she did, saw apparently for the first time a car that was coming out. She slammed on the brakes on wet pavement just as she was making a turn. The tires skidded all over the pavement. We just barely hit the bumper of the other car and crashed through the hedge. I guess we turned completely around. It felt like it to me.
“The car crashed through a hedge and turned over. The doors on the front of the car flew open, or perhaps she opened the door on the driver’s side. I know I had opened the door on my side and I was thrown out. I skidded across the grass for a ways and sat up feeling pretty bruised and dazed. And then I saw the glow of a light of some kind and saw this man bending over a figure by the car.
“I had a glimpse in the weak light that was given by the flashlight of Dawn Manning lying there unconscious where she’d been thrown from the car and had skidded on the wet grass.”
“Go on,” Tragg said. “What happened?”
“Well, then this man seemed to be having trouble with the flashlight. It went out and he threw it into the darkness. I heard it from where I was crouching, dazed and shaken and wondering just what had happened, and whether she still had the gun.”
“Go on,” Tragg said.
“Well, I... I don’t feel very proud of this, Lieutenant, but it seemed to be the best thing at the moment, and... well, at a time like that you just have to think of yourself and for yourself.”
“Go on, go on, what did you do? Never mind the explanations or the alibis.”
“Well, I saw this young man running over toward the driveway to the house and I knew he was going to ask for help and all of that, and I just didn’t want to be mixed up in that sort of a mess. In fact, I can’t afford to have my name dragged into court or get a lot of newspaper notoriety.
“I grabbed Dawn Manning by the ankles and started pulling. The grass was wet from the rain, and she slid along just as easily as though I had been dragging a big sled. I got her out of the way and put myself in the same position she’d been occupying. I pulled my skirts way up as though I’d skidded. Then I called out for help, and... well, this young man came back and I let him get a good look at my legs and then help me up. I got my purse, and in the dark wondered if I could have made a mistake and had Dawn’s purse instead of mine. So I stalled around, dove into the car for the second time after my raincoat, found a second purse, concealed it in the folds of the coat and got out.
“I told him that I had been driving the car. I didn’t want to have any trouble about it. I let him drive me into the city. I told him it was my car and kidded him along so he didn’t ask to see my driving license. I was desperately trying to think of some name I could give him, and then I remembered someone had told me about a telephone service given by Beatrice Cornell over at the Ancordia Apartments, so I just gave him her name. I knew it would be on the mailbox in case he wanted to check on it, and... well, I let him drive me there and let him think he was driving me home.
“He told me his name was Ansley and he was very, very nice. I let him kiss me good night, then I rang the bell of Beatrice Cornell’s apartment. She buzzed the lock on the door, I went in, sat in the lobby until Mr. Ansley drove off, then I telephoned for a taxicab and came back here to this apartment.”
“Then what?”
“That’s all.”
“Why did she drive to Meridith Borden’s place?”
“That’s where her husband works. Frank is associated in some capacity with Meridith Borden. She thought he was there. He wasn’t. Actually, he was the fourth guest at my dinner party. He’s my boy friend.”
“And you left her there in the grounds?” Tragg asked.
“Yes.”
“Unconscious?”
“Yes... I didn’t know what else to do. I had to look out for myself.”
Lt. Tragg frowned thoughtfully, fished a cigar from his pocket. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked.
“I’d love it,” Loretta Harper said.
The officer regarded her with quizzical appraisal. “Either you,” he said, “or this Manning woman is lying. I suppose you know that.”
“I can readily imagine it,” she said. “Any woman who will take chances on threatening another woman with a gun and pulling a kidnap stunt like that would naturally be expected to lie about it, wouldn’t she?”
“And you’ve got her purse?”
“Yes. I took both purses only because I wanted to be absolutely certain I didn’t leave mine behind. I couldn’t afford to be mixed up in the thing — and I’ll be frank with you, Lt. Tragg, Frank and I are... well, he’s my boy friend.”