HANNAH BASS — A babysitter with a strange notion of children’s toys
MISS M. ADRIAN — The sort of neighbor who hears all — and tells all
GRACE HALLUM — A babysitter asked to take her charge a long way — to Mexico City
MANLEY MARSHALL — Trial deputy for the district attorney’s office, he has an eye witness to a murder — but who did she see?
SERGEANT HOLCOMB — Of the police — thought his evidence was brilliant, until Mason began his cross-examination
HAMILTON BURGER — District Attorney beleaguered by Mason’s methods — and his results
MILLICENT BAILEY — A date with her boyfriend gave her a chance to see a murderer
Chapter One
With the politeness that characterized everything he did, Mervin Selkirk said to Norda Allison, “Excuse me, please.”
Then he leaned forward and slapped the child’s face — hard.
“Little gentlemen,” he said to his seven-year-old son, “don’t interrupt when people are talking.”
Then Mervin Selkirk settled back in his chair, lit a cigarette, turned to Norda Allison and said, “As you were saying...?”
But Norda couldn’t go on. She was looking at the hurt eyes of the child, and realized suddenly that that wasn’t the first time his father had slapped him like that.
Humiliated, fighting back bitter tears in order to be “a little man,” the boy turned away, paused in the doorway to say, “Excuse me, please,” then left the room.
“That’s his mother’s influence,” Mervin Selkirk explained. “She believes in discipline from a theoretical standpoint, but she can’t be bothered putting it into practical execution. Whenever Robert returns from visiting with her in Los Angeles, it’s a job getting him back on the beam.”
Suddenly in that instant Norda saw Mervin Selkirk in his true character. The indolent, smiling politeness, the affable courtesy of his manner, was a mask. Beneath the partially contemptuous, partially amused but always polite manner with which he regarded the world, was a sadistic streak, an inherent selfishness which covered itself with a veneer of extreme politeness.
Abruptly Norda was on her feet, stunned not only by her discovery, but by the clarity with which her new realization of Mervin’s character came into mental focus.
“I’m afraid I’m bushed, Mervin,” she said. “I’m going to have to leave you now. I’ve been fighting a beastly headache, and I’m going home to see if some aspirin and a little rest won’t help.”
He jumped up to stand beside her. His left hand reached out and caught her wrist in a tight grip.
“Your headache was rather sudden, Norda.”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.”
He hesitated then, just as he had hesitated for a moment before slapping the child. She felt him gathering forces for an onslaught.
Then it came with no preliminary.
“So you can’t take it.”
“Can’t take what?”
“Disciplining a child. You’re a softie.”
“I’m not a softie, but there are ways of disciplining children,” she said. “Robert is sensitive; he’s intelligent and he’s proud. You could have waited until I had left and explained to him that it wasn’t gentlemanly to interrupt, then he’d have accepted the correction.
“You didn’t do that. You humiliated him in front of me. You undermined his self-respect, and—”
“That will do,” Mervin Selkirk said coldly. “I don’t need a lecture on parental discipline from an unmarried woman.”
“I think,” Norda said quietly, “I’m just beginning to really know you.”
“You don’t know me yet,” he told her, his eyes threatening and hard. “I want you, and what I want I get. Don’t think you can walk out on me. I’ve noticed lately that you’ve been talking quite a bit about that Benedict chap who works in the office with you. Perhaps you don’t realize how frequently you’re quoting him. It’s Nate this and Nate that— Remember this, Norda, you’ve announced your engagement to me. I won’t let any woman humiliate me. You’ve promised to marry me and you’re going through with it.”
For a moment his fingers were like steel on her wrists, his eyes were deadly. And then, almost instantly, the mask came back. He said contritely, “But I shouldn’t bother you with these things when you’re not feeling well. Come dear, I’ll take you home... I’m really sorry about Robert. That is, I’m sorry if I hurt you. But, you see, I happen to know Robert quite well, and I think I know exactly how he should be handled.”
That night, after giving the matter a lot of thought, Norda wrote a formal letter breaking her engagement to Mervin Selkirk.
Three nights later she went out with Nathan Benedict for the first time. They went to the restaurant which Nate knew was Norda’s favorite. There was no incident. Two nights later Mervin called to ask if he might talk with her. “It won’t do any good,” she told him. “Anyway, I’m going out tonight.”
“With Nate?” he asked. “I understand you let him take you to our restaurant.”
“It’s none of your business,” she snapped and slammed the phone back into its cradle.
Later on when the phone rang repeatedly she didn’t answer it.
Nate came for her promptly at eight.
He was tall, slender in build, with wavy, dark-brown hair and expressive eyes. They went once more to the same restaurant.
There was some delay at the table reservation. It was suggested they wait in the cocktail lounge.
Norda didn’t see Mervin Selkirk until it was too late, nor could she swear afterward that he had actually thrust out his foot so that Nathan Benedict stumbled.
There were plenty of witnesses to what happened after that.
Mervin Selkirk got to his feet, said, “Watch who you’re pushing,” and hit Benedict flush on the jaw.
As Benedict went down with a broken jaw, two of Mervin’s friends, who were seated at the table, jumped up to grab his arms. “Take it easy, Merv,” one of them said.
There was a commotion, with waiters swarming around them, and eventually the police. Norda had been certain she had seen a glint of metal as Mervin Selkirk’s right hand had flashed across in that carefully timed, perfectly executed smash.
The surgeon who wired Benedict’s broken jaw was confident the injuries had been caused by brass knuckles. However, police had searched Selkirk at Norda’s insistence and had found no brass knuckles; nor were there any on the friend who was with Selkirk and who volunteered to let the police search him. The second friend who had been with Selkirk had disappeared before the police came. He had had an engagement, Selkirk explained and he didn’t want to be detained by a lot of formalities. He would, however, be available if anybody tried to make anything of it.
Selkirk’s story was quite simple. He had been sitting with his friends. His back was to the door. Benedict, in passing, had not only stepped on his foot, but had kicked back at his shin. He had got to his feet Benedict had doubled his fist. Mervin Selkirk admitted he had beat Benedict to the punch.
“What else was there to do?” he asked.
A week after that, Norda Allison began to get the letters. They were mailed from Los Angeles, sent air mail to San Francisco. They were in plain stamped envelopes. Each envelope contained newspaper clippings; sometimes one, sometimes two or three. All of the clippings dealt with stories of those tragedies which are so common in the press: The divorced husband who couldn’t live without his wife, who had followed her as she walked from the bus and shot her on the street. The jilted suitor who had gone on a drinking spree, had then invaded the apartment where his former fiancée lived and fired five shots into her body. The drink-crazed man who had walked into the office where his former girl friend was working, had said, “I can’t live without you. If I can’t have you, no one else will.” Desipite her screams and pleading, he had shot her through the head, then turned the gun on himself.