There was an open door at the end of the hall showing a rather plump girl wearing horn-rimmed glasses busily typing in front of a small switchboard which she could handle without moving out of her chair.
She looked up to greet him with a pleasant smile, and he asked, “Is the manager in?”
“Certainly.” She nodded her head toward a closed door on her right. “Go right in. I don’t think Mr. Barstow is particularly busy.”
Shayne thanked her and opened the door she had indicated. It was a large, pleasant office with sunlight streaming in a wide window, and with a bald-headed, chubby-faced man leaning back in a swivel chair behind the clean desk and caught square in the middle of a wide yawn by Shayne’s unannounced entrance.
He cut off the yawn in mid-stride, wriggled himself erect in the chair and put on an eager smile. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m a detective, Mr. Barstow… is it?” Shayne sat in front of the desk and lit a cigarette.
“A detective? I see. In regard to that most unfortunate affair upstairs last night, no doubt.” Barstow frowned portentously and rubbed his pink, bald scalp with a pink palm. “A terrible thing. Most unfortunate. I talked to a lieutenant last night, you know. I’m afraid I wasn’t very much help because, you see, I scarcely knew the tenant. Lambert? Yes. A self-effacing sort, I remember thinking at the time he rented the apartment. Quiet and conservatively dressed. The type of renter one hopes to get for a bachelor apartment. With a man like that one doesn’t expect difficulties, you see. The sort of thing… ah… exactly the sort of thing that did occur last night. I consider myself a fair judge of human nature, and I simply never would have dreamed that Lambert was the sort to have an affair with a married woman.”
“You never can tell by appearances,” Shayne agreed sympathetically. “Speaking of appearances, Mr. Barstow, what do you recall about the man? I know you described him last night, but I thought perhaps you’d given the matter further thought and could add something to your description this morning.”
“Indeed I have given it further thought. Yes, indeed. My gracious, it’s the first time anything like this has ever occurred in a building under my management. On the other hand, I’m afraid there’s not much I can add to the description I gave your lieutenant last night. Just sort of medium.” He spread out both his plump palms in exasperation. “I did remember noticing that he signed the rental agreement with his left hand. The lieutenant said that might be very important.”
“And it probably is,” Shayne told him. “You see, our handwriting expert says the suicide notes were written by a left-handed man. He had a dark mustache, I believe, and wore tinted glasses.”
“Lightly tinted. Blue. So light the color was scarcely noticeable.”
“And he just dropped in cold, looking for an apartment? No one referred him to you?”
“In answer to an advertisement. He was very easily pleased and appeared satisfied with the price, remarking that he would not be occupying the apartment a great deal and would require no maid service. I do recall that he particularly required a telephone and was delighted that our transient apartments have telephones served by a switchboard.”
Shayne nodded thoughtfully. This was the first time he had known the building had its own telephones. Lucy, of course, had her own private line, but that was on a year’s lease…
He said, “I understand he gave you a home address in Jacksonville?”
“Yes. I gave it to the lieutenant. He explained that his home office was there, but that he was trying to build up this territory and would be in Miami possibly two or three days each week.”
“The Jacksonville address was a phony,” Shayne told him. “Non-existent.”
“Dear me. Then do you suppose…?”
“Right now,” said Shayne evenly, “it looks as though he used your building simply as a trysting place. We don’t even know if Lambert was his name. You didn’t ask for references, I suppose?”
“N-no. Not in the case of a month-to-month rental. He paid the first month in advance, you see.”
“In cash, I understand?” Shayne made his voice hard and raised ragged, red eyebrows in disapproval. “Didn’t you think that was quite unusual? Don’t most tenants pay by check?”
“They do, of course,” the manager agreed stiffly. “On the other hand, he said something about not wanting to ask me to take an out-of-town check since he desired immediate occupancy.”
“That was less than a month ago?”
“Three weeks ago yesterday. I checked the date this morning. I’m sorry I can’t help you more, but I must reiterate that I saw the man only that one time. He had his own key to the front door and we have a self-service elevator. We try not to intrude on our tenants’ privacy so long as they give us no reason for doing so.”
“This company he worked for? He said he was a salesman?”
“Yes. That is, I believe it was definitely implied. He mentioned his territory being enlarged recently to include Miami.”
“Did he mention the name of the company? What sort of product he handled?”
“I don’t… believe… I, I’m just not sure. It may have been mentioned casually, but I simply don’t recollect.”
“Could it have been something to do with photography? Photographic supplies?”
Barstow blinked rapidly and then pressed fingertips to his eyes in an attitude of deep thought. His face brightened when he removed them. “I do believe that was it. I do, indeed. Is that important?”
“It may be. Now, I understand he signed some sort of rental agreement? I’d like to take that with me, Mr. Barstow.”
“It’s a very simple form. Miss Mayhew will get it for you. Ah… I understand the police put a padlock on the door after it was broken in last night. Do you know when they will be through… when his possessions will be removed? I understand it will require a thorough cleaning before it will be available for rental again.”
“It will require that,” Shayne agreed somberly. “A couple of days, I imagine. I’m going up now to make another check. I’m expecting a couple of men from headquarters in about half an hour. Will you see they are let in the front?”
“Certainly.” Barstow got to his feet as Shayne did, and came around the desk. “I’ll speak to Miss Mayhew.”
Shayne stood aside and followed him out of the office where he spoke to the typist and she twisted around in her chair to pull out a drawer of a filing cabinet and find a cardboard folder which she opened and laid before him. It contained only a single page of fine print, headed RENTAL AGREEMENT at the top and signed at the bottom, “Robert Lambert,” in what appeared to Shayne to be the same handwriting as the suicide notes in his pocket.
He took it from the folder and folded it up with the other papers Gentry had given him, and told Barstow, “You can have this back after we’ve compared signatures.”
“No hurry at all. I’m sorry I haven’t been of more assistance.”
Shayne smiled and shrugged. “I’m sure you’ve done your best. I assume you’ve discussed Lambert with Miss Mayhew and she has nothing to add to your description?”
She said, “I was at home ill the day he rented the apartment. So far as I know I didn’t even see him at all.”
Shayne was about to turn away when he had a sudden thought. He turned back and asked, “The telephone. Are tenants charged for their calls?”
Mr. Barstow and Miss Mayhew nodded in unison. Barstow said, “They are billed at the end of each month.”