“I’ve been moving fast,” I said.
“What have you learned?”
“Nothing much. Any letters or telegrams for me?”
“Yes. There’s a telegram here from someone in San Francisco. It says that no eye doctor or lens supply house in San Francisco had any orders to be sent to Oakview during the period under investigation. I suppose you know what that’s all about.”
“I do,” I said.
“Well, what is it?”
I said, “It’s just another figure in the column I’m trying to add up. I haven’t the total yet.”
“What’s it all about?”
“Mrs. Lintig broke her glasses — that is, a bellboy broke them for her. She made a squawk to the hotel. The hotel was going to replace them. She wired for new lenses.”
“Well?”
“She left very suddenly before the lenses arrived. I told the clerk to forward the glasses to me as soon as they showed up, that we’d pay the bill.”
“Pay the bill!”
“Yes.”
“Why did you do that, lover?”
“Because I wanted to see what oculist she patronized. An oculist would have her name and address. Remember, she didn’t have the prescription. She simply wired her oculist to send her new glasses.” Bertha Cool stared steadily at me. Her eyes narrowed. She said, “I’m wondering if you’re thinking of the same thing I am, Donald.”
“What?”
“That perhaps that wire didn’t go to San Francisco at all, but went to Dr. Alftmont in Santa Carlotta?”
I said, “I thought of that a long time ago. That’s one of the reasons I was so anxious to get the shipment in the original package.”
Bertha Cool said admiringly, “You are a brainy little bastard, Donald. You don’t overlook many bets. The glasses didn’t show up, eh?”
“No.”
Bertha Cool said, “That means just one thing, lover. The person to whom she wired for the glasses knew that she wasn’t going to be there to receive the shipment, and, therefore, didn’t send them.”
I said, “Where’s Marian?”
“We have her fixed up in a nice little apartment. They’ve found out quite a bit about the case, and Marian’s testimony is most important. She remembers that when she opened the door the morning paper was lying on the floor where it had been pushed through the crack under the door. It was still there when the police arrived. That means the murderer found her in bed.”
“What else?” I asked.
“It was a man who killed her. The ash-tray by the bed held two cigarette stubs. There was lipstick on only one of them, so the police figure the man sat on the edge of the bed and talked for a while before he killed her. They figure this man had a business matter to discuss. When it didn’t go to suit him, he killed her.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“A picture was missing from where it had been stuck in her dresser mirror. The police think it may have been a picture of a tall, dark young man with a black moustache. The maid described the photograph as best she could.”
“Why was it taken?”
“Probably because the murderer wanted it. I’ve been trying to put forward the theory, very quietly, of course, that it was a picture of the murderer himself. That would start them looking for a tall, dark young man.”
“The D.A. knows where Marian is?”
“Oh, sure. He was keeping her under surveillance. Now he’s pretty well satisfied she’s on the up and up.”
“How often does she go to see him?”
“She’s been going once a day.”
“I want to talk with her.”
“She wants to talk with you. Cod knows what it is you do to women, Donald, but they fall for you — and you fall for them. You want to be careful with this girl, Donald. She’s dynamite.”
“What do you mean, she’s dynamite?”
“She’s all tied up with that deputy district attorney. If he ever turned the heat on her, she d talk.”
“You mean about us?”
“Yes.”
“I think she’d be loyal to us.”
“Not to us, lover, to you. And you’ve got to be careful that young deputy doesn’t make her fall for him.”
I said, “I want to talk with Marian. Where is she?”
Bertha Cool handed me a slip of paper with the address of an apartment house. “Our client is awfully worried, Donald, but he has a lot of confidence in you. I’m glad you had that talk with him.”
I said, “So am I. I’m going to see Marian.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“That,” I said, “is just what I don’t want, and you’d better get some new tyres for the agency car — or else get a new car for the agency tyres — and then throw the tyres away.”
She said, “I’ll do that, Donald, but don’t ever go away again where Bertha doesn’t know where you are. I’ve had an awful job trying to hold this thing in line. Our client seems to have more confidence in you than he has in me.”
I got up and ground out my cigarette in an ash-tray. “While I’m gone, try to find out if a Flo Mortinson was a hostess at the Blue Cave. Locate her, find out about her trunks — if any. Get a room near her.”
“All right. Will you give me a ring as soon as you’ve seen Marian, Donald?”
“It depends. I’m doing everything I can on this case.”
“I know, lover, but time’s getting short. The thing is going to break any minute now, and when it does, Smith is on the skids for a one-way ride.”
“Are you,” I asked, “telling me?” and walked out.
Elsie Brand looked up from her typing long enough to ask, “What happened to your nose, Donald?”
“I went to a plastic surgeon,” I said, “and he was rough.”
Chapter Nine
I went to the apartment house where Marian was staying and scouted around for fifteen minutes before I went in. By that time I was pretty well satisfied the place wasn’t being watched.
Marian answered my knock. When she saw who it was, she flung her arms around me and squealed, “Oh, Donald, I’m so glad to see you!”
I patted her shoulder, kicked the door shut behind me, and said, “How are things coming?”
“Swell,” she said. “Everybody’s being wonderful to me. Sometimes I feel like an awful heel not telling them — you know, the—”
I said, “Forget it. You want the murderer to be brought to justice, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you told them the truth, some smart shyster attorney would tie you up into knots and make a jury, think you were the one who had committed the murder.”
“But they couldn’t. I didn’t have any motive for murdering her.”
“I know,” I said. “They might not convict you of murder, but the guilty party would get away. Sit down. I want to talk with you.”
“Where have you been?” she asked. “I’ve missed you so much, and Mrs. Cool has been just frantic. You know, she depends on you a lot. I think she’d be lost without you.”
I said, “How about it, Marian? Have they showed you any photographs yet that you can identify?”
“No. They’ve been trying to find out who her friends were. Mr. Ellis, the deputy district attorney, says that he thinks he’ll break the case wide open within another twenty-four hours.”
“That’s nice. Just where was this man when you saw him, Marian? In the hall, coming towards you?”
“No, no, not in the hall. He was just coming out of the apartment. He was pulling the door shut behind him.”
“You mean some apartment down at that end of the hall?”