Abruptly the phone rang. He snatched the receiver from the hook, but his eagerness automatically masked itself behind the dignity of his voice. “Good evening,” he proclaimed. “This is Mr. Hazlit speaking.”
It was Ethel Dunn. “You wanted me?” she asked, and there was just the trace of sullen defiance in her voice. Hazlit realized that what they were paying her was hardly commensurate with the long years she’d been with the firm. There had been only one raise during the entire period. He’d have to do something about that. No use in having a secretary who was dissatisfied. It might be dangerous. Into the telephone he said gravely, “Yes, Miss Dunn. A matter of the greatest importance makes it necessary for me to get in touch with Neldon Tucker. His residence doesn’t answer. I wonder if you know anything about his plans for the week end.”
“No. I haven’t any idea where he is.”
“You don’t know where he intended...”
“No.”
“Just a minute,” Hazlit said hastily, sensing she was in a hurry, probably dashing out on some date, and thinking only of a quick shower and change. “This is a matter of the greatest importance. Think carefully, Ethel. See if you can’t recall something he may have said.”
Her answer came back so quickly that he knew his admonition to think had been entirely wasted. “I don’t know a thing.”
“Do you know the names of any of his most intimate friends?”
“You might try the Mainwarings.”
“What’s the first name?”
“I don’t know. They live out on Buena Vista somewhere close to where Mr. Tucker lives. Those are the only ones I can think of. Good...”
“You haven’t heard him speak of going anywhere, of any dates or plans?”
“No. I’m quite positive. Good-by.”
Hazlit dropped the receiver into place, looked up the Mainwarings in the telephone book, dialed their number, and was rather surprised when he heard someone answer. He had been making so many fruitless calls this afternoon, it seemed odd when a voice actually responded.
“This is George V. Hazlit,” he said impressively. “I’m trying to locate my junior partner, Neldon Tucker, and...”
“Why, yes, he’s here,” the woman said.
Hazlit couldn’t keep gratified surprise from his voice. “He’s there?”
“Yes. Just a moment, I’ll call him.”
Hazlit, holding the telephone, could hear the sound of steps, then Tucker’s voice. He knew as soon as he heard Tucker say, “Hello, George,” that he’d been drinking.
“I’m up at the office, Neldon. There’s a matter of the greatest importance. You’ll have to come right away.”
“Oh, I say,” Tucker protested, “they’re going to have dinner in about fifteen minutes. We’re just having cocktails and...”
“Right away,” Hazlit interpolated. “It’s a large fee, a very large fee, which may slip through our fingers. It may amount to a cool hundred thousand.”
“My car’s outside. I’ll be right up,” Tucker promised. “I’ll...”
“Neldon.”
“Yes?”
“You’ve been drinking. We can’t afford to take any chances. Don’t drive. Take a taxi.”
Hazlit hung up, walked over to the window once more, and stood looking down at the restless traffic. He looked at his watch. It should take Tucker about five minutes to get a cab, then it would take twenty-five minutes to get to the office. That would make half an hour.
It was as though Hazlit’s luck had turned all at once. The telephone rang again. This time it was Parker Gibbs. Speaking with his characteristic rapidity, Gibbs said, “The wife tells me you’ve been calling.”
“Can you come up here right away?”
“How soon is right away?”
“Within half an hour.”
“Make it forty-five minutes,” Gibbs said. “I’ve just got back from deep-sea fishing, and I’m a mess. Going to be a big job?”
“I think so, yes. I’ll explain the details when you get here.”
“Okay, I’ll make it as soon as I can,” Gibbs said and hung up.
Hazlit walked over to his big easy chair, stretched out his legs, and lit a cigar. He was finishing the last of the cigar when he heard Tucker’s key in the lock.
Tucker was still flushed with drink, but he had himself well under control. He was, Hazlit reflected, drinking a bit too much lately — and getting a little careless about his appearance. Hazlit decided to speak to Tucker about it at a more propitious moment.
“Hello, George, what’s the rumpus?”
Hazlit said, “Close the door.”
When Neldon had closed and locked the door, Hazlit beckoned him closer. He said in a low voice, “Addison Stearne’s dead.”
Tucker raised his eyebrows. “When?”
“Apparently, last night sometime. The body was discovered this morning. He was murdered.”
“Murdered!”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Up at Santa Delbarra. He and C. Arthur Right. It was a double murder.”
“Any clues?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Any idea what it was all about?”
Hazlit said, “I don’t know. We’ll leave that to the authorities. You remember I drew a will for Stearne about two months ago. Under the terms of that will, he left most of his property to C. Arthur Right with some specific bequests for a Miss Nita Moline.”
Tucker said, “I wasn’t familiar with the will. You handled Stearne’s business. I only knew you’d drawn a will.”
Hazlit said, “It provided, among other things, that if C. Arthur Right should die first, all the property was to go to Nita Moline.”
“Rather prophetic, wasn’t it?” Tucker asked.
Hazlit said, “I’ve put similar provisions in a good many wills. I advise clients that the persons who are so close to them as to be objects of their bounty may well be riding in an automobile with the testators and be in an accident. One will survive the other only by a few hours.”
“I see. Where does that leave us in this case?”
“From all I can learn so far,” Hazlit said, “there’s no evidence to show which one of the men died first. We’ve simply got to handle that estate. We’re out of luck if Stearne died first. Right’s wife, Pearl Right, hates the very ground I walk on. I told Right I thought she’d bear watching. He mentioned to me that every time he went out on a trip, he could never get her on the phone when he called. I suggested he hire detectives to shadow her. The damn fool told her what I’d said. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, I’ve never met Miss Moline.”
Tucker showed that he understood by giving a low-pitched whistle.
“I have Miss Moline’s address,” Hazlit went on. “It’s the Maplehurst Apartments. She isn’t in. She left there very early this morning, and the young man at the desk said he under-stood she was joining some friends on a yachting party.”
“Oh-oh!” Tucker muttered. “How’d you get the tip-off on the deaths, George?”
“I happened to tune in on a news broadcast about an hour ago. This is a situation I hadn’t anticipated. I had... well, I’d purposely refrained from cultivating Miss Moline. I thought it was better that way.”
“You mean you expected a heart-balm suit?”
“Yes. Stearne suggested once that we should handle a matter on which she wanted legal advice. I discouraged him without telling him why. I’m afraid she may have gone to some other lawyer. If that’s the case...” Hazlit broke off and shrugged his shoulders.
“How about Gibbs?”