"I come along the corridor here, and go down the stairs to Miss Baldwin's office, but she is not there. Someone says she is upstairs at this card tournament, so back I come."
"Immediately?" asked Sigrid. "About ten-thirty?"
"Perhaps. People are coming from the Bontemps Room as I ascend the stairs. I look through the room, but no Miss Baldwin. I speak to Mr. George about a doughnut I see on the floor and then I give up and go to my office and try to concentrate on letters my secretary has left for me to sign, but my mind will not."
She shrugged her slender shoulders and made a charmingly rueful face. "Never can I be tranquille when things are left undone. At last, I go and find some maids who are not very busy and I come myself to show them what must be done. The elevator stops, we get off, and there is Miss Baldwin with you and M'sieur Froelick. We speak and you know the rest, non?"
By now, more police officers had trickled into the room. Sigrid saw that the medical examiner had finished with the boy's body and was waiting to speak to her. Elaine
Albee and Jim Lowry had arrived together and Sigrid motioned them over as she finished with Lucienne Ronay.
"We'll try to be as unobtrusive as possible," she promised. "The body can go down in the freight elevator and out the back if one of your people will show them the way. Again, you'll have to wait to begin clean-up on this room and we'll want to talk to everyone who worked this floor today."
"I am resigned, Lieutenant," said Madame Ronay with a fatalistic sigh. As she stood, her eyes fell on Molly Baldwin and her face was stern. But the sight of so much misery seemed to soften her. "Poor Molly! Do not look so fearful, chérie. This time I forgive all your faults."
"Thank you, Madame," murmured Molly, but she seemed only partially relieved as Lucienne Ronay left the room almost as if she expected the police to have harder questions. From the way Molly braced herself apprehensively, Sigrid knew that the waiting must be getting to the girl, but there was no help for it. Joined by Lowry and Albee, shea nd Knight walked back toward the body to hear what the assistant M. E. had to tell them.
"Not much for now," said Cohen in his usual breezy manner. "The kid bought it between, oh, say ten and eleven, give or take a little. He was probably unconscious when the tie cut off his air supply."
"Hit over the head first?" asked Sigrid.
"Now, Lieutenant, it's too soon to tell. No obvious blow to the head, but no scratches around the throat as would've been if he was awake and fighting it. I'll let you know more tomorrow, okay." He unwrapped a stick of gum and cheerfully turned his back on them.
The ambulance attendants had already lifted the slight body onto the gurney and strapped a covering over it, and a hotel employee appeared to escort them out through the basement garage.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Baldwin," Sigrid said as they passed the young assistant manager. "It won't be much longer now."
She assigned a uniformed officer to keep an eye on the girl and motionedf or Vassily Ivanovich to accompany them to the Bontemps Room.
"No, I wish to stay here," said the gray-haired Russian, who had seldom taken his eyes off Molly since entering the room.
"You can speak to Ms. Baldwin later," Sigrid told him firmly. "Right now, I want all the players back at their tables."
Reluctantly, the big man followed.
Three reporters were waiting outside in the hall. Sigrid made a brief statement and continued toward the Bontemps Room. The lunch break was scheduled for twelve-thirty and already a few early finishers were pushing through the doors.
Albee and Lowry had been joined by three other officers, who herded the players back inside while Sigrid and Alan Knight briefly apprised Ted Flythe of the current situation. The hotel grapevine had reached him a moment or two before, however, so they were deprived of his initial reaction. At the moment, he seemed totally exasperated.
"That does it! There's no way we can finish now. You're going to questione verybody again, aren't you? Get 'em all stirred up-"
Alan Knight began to bristle, and to stop him from alerting Flythe of their suspicions, Sigrid interrupted coldly. "I realize this tournament is important to you, Mr. Flythe, but we are investigating three murders here."
Flythe immediately backed down and tried to repair the damage. "It's just that there're so many people and so much money involved, Lieutenant. Makes it complicated. But that's not your problem, of course. Don't worry. We'll work something out."
"I'm sure you will," Sigrid said flatly. "Lowry, Albee, ask the staff to come in, please."
The players listened in shocked silence as Sigrid spoke into the microphone and told them of the young busboy's death. "We know you've had a long morning and that you'll want lunch now. As you leave the room, please show some identification to the officers at the door.
They'll check you off the list and we'll be talking to each of you after lunch."
In an attempt to help the cardplayers remember, she asked the remaining busboys to come forward while she gave a brief description of the dead youth and then introduced Detectives Albee and Lowry, to whom most had already spoken.
"If any of you recall seeing Pernell Johnson during the break or if you spoke to him then, please tell one of these officers before you leave for lunch. Thank you."
A dismayed babble of comments and exclamations arose from the crowd and Ted Flythe took over the mike to promise that he would have a statement for them at two o'clock, after lunch. He stepped down from the podium and called, "Lieutenant?"
He was too late. Sigrid had disappeared into the crowd to join Alan Knight and Mr. George with the busboys, who were having trouble believing that one of their own was so abruptly gone.
"Man, he was right here!" one protestedi ncredulously. "We were jiving him about Terri Pratt."
To Knight's questions, they all shook their heads. As with Mr. George earlier, they were ready to swear that Pernell had seen nothing Friday night.
"We were tight, man," said another. He held up crossed fingers. "Like that. No way he wouldn't have told me. All he could talk about was how things were breaking right, how once Mr. George gave him a good report about putting out the fire, maybe he was gonna get to work the Emeraude Room like he'd been wanting ever since he got here."
A different busboy said he'd seen Johnson enter the Bontemps Room after speaking with Miss Baldwin. That was immediately before the ten-thirty break, he thought. Once the break began and people were milling about, no one noticed Johnson again.
"What about Ted Flythe?" Sigrid asked. "Where was he during the break?"
More shrugs, this time punctuated with an undercurrent of knowing snickers.
"Mr. George?"
"Probably upstairs with one of hisg irls. Graphic Games has a suite on eighteen and the maids say he's been keeping the sheets hot, if you'll pardon the expression, Miss."
"I thought Miss Baldwin was his current interest," said Knight.
"The man's a Baskin-Robbins freak," quipped one of the busboys.
"Ice cream?" asked Sigrid as they moved away.
"Thirty-one different flavors," Knight told her.
"Oh."
To avoid the crush of people and reporters, they slipped out the rear service exit and walked along the deserted back corridors.
"Any suggestions?" Sigrid asked Knight.
"Nope. You seem to be covering all the bases. Want me to locate the girlfriends?"
"Flythe's?"
"And Johnson's."
"Later. I'd rather you sat in on the interview with Molly Baldwin, if you don't mind. You can be the good copa nd keep your handkerchief handy. If all else fails," she added dryly, "I'll even tell her you aren't married."
"She looks too scared to care," he grinned, pleased with this first sign of her letting down barriers. "I guess you got that about Miami?"