We trooped back to the living-room, and I put the shoes with Dana’s coat and skirt. There was a short pause while Barclay poured drinks. He handed us each a whisky and went to sit on the settee.
Although he was acting tough I could see he had been shaken by the discovery of the shoes, and his controlled uneasiness convinced me still further that he didn’t know anything about Dana’s death.
‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked, after he had swallowed half his drink.
‘I guess this lets you out,’ I said. ‘It looks as if the clothes and shoes were planted on you.’
‘I swear they were,’ he said, seriously. ‘But who did it I can’t imagine.’
‘I can make a guess. Why not the killer? If the police had found what we’ve just found you’d be behind bars by now.’
‘I guess that’s right.’
‘The one person who can help us is Mrs. Cerf. We’ve got to find her. Any idea where she is?’
He shook his head.
‘The last time I saw her was three days ago. We had dinner together.’
‘How did you come to meet her in the first place?’
‘On the beach. She was lonely, and I happened to be around. She doesn’t have a lot of fun with Cerf.’
I eyed him stonily.
‘How long have you known her?’
‘About ten days.’ He gave a leering little grin. ‘Can I help it if they chuck themselves at me, and that’s what she did.’
‘Did you ever have trouble with her?’
‘What do you mean — trouble?’
‘Have a scene in a shop with her? Did you ever miss anything?’
He was more alert than he looked.
‘You mean she was one of those — light-fingered?’
I nodded.
‘So that’s why Cerf was having her watched! I thought he was trying to get evidence for a divorce. She did too.’
“You still haven’t answered my question.’
‘Nothing like that. I haven’t missed a thing.’
I ran my fingers through my hair.
‘She knew she was being watched? She told you so?’
‘Sure. She told me some girl was following her. That’s why I dropped her. I keep clear of divorce courts.’
‘So you dropped her?’
‘You bet I did.’
‘We have reason to believe she was being blackmailed. Did she ever say anything to you about that?’
The blank look of surprise on his face spoke for itself.
‘No. That’s a new one on me.’ He flicked the edge of his glass with his finger-nail, making it ring. ‘She did try to borrow money off me the last time we met.’
‘How much?’
He gave a sneering laugh.
‘It didn’t get as far as that. I don’t believe in lending money to married women.’
‘Did she ever mention Ralph Bannister in her conversations with you?’
‘No. Is he in this too?’
‘You know him?’
‘Well, I’ve met him. He runs L’Etoile. I go out there sometimes.’
I was getting nowhere fast.
‘Has she ever been here?’
A watchful look came into his eyes.
‘That’s none of your damned business.’
Kerman tapped him on the arm with the Indian club.
‘Don’t get shirty, pally,’ he said warningly.
‘Ever run into a guy named Caesar Mills?’ I asked.
‘You mean her chauffeur? I’ve seen him once or twice. Why bring him in?’
‘I thought he was a guard at the house.’
‘Maybe. He drives her around sometimes. I don’t know anything about him.’
‘I found a photograph of Mrs. Cerf in one of your drawers. I take it she gave it to you?’
‘Pretty picture, isn’t it?’ he said and laughed. ‘She gave it to me all right.’
‘Know when it was taken?’
‘A few years ago. She used to be in some show in Frisco. That’s before she turned mannequin. What happened to the photograph? Did you take it?’
‘Yeah; don’t expect to get it back.’
He lifted his massive shoulders.
‘I should worry. I’ve got a trunk full of pictures like that. Women are funny that way. Once you’ve seen them without their clothes...’
‘Well, I guess we’ll be running along,’ I broke in. I was tired of him now. Handsome homewreckers always give me a pain in the gut. I stood up. ‘If I think of anything else I want to know I’ll call in and see you again.’
‘Aren’t you going to make anything of those shoes?’ he asked, his voice casual but his eyes shifty.
‘I guess not. Consider yourself lucky.’ I picked up Dana’s clothes and shoes, jerked my head at Kerman, and we went to the front door, opened it and walked down the wooden steps. Neither of us looked back. The doves cooed at us from the gable but we didn’t look at them either. We went down the garden path, out through the gateway and down the avenue to the car.
‘I’m glad you hit him,’ Kerman said suddenly. ‘He’s the kind of heel who needs hitting hard and often.’
‘We’re no better off, Jack. Except I think we can write him off the suspect list. It brings us back to Mills again, but if Mills planted the clothes to throw suspicion on Barclay why did he come back this afternoon?’ I climbed into the car, jabbed down on the starter. ‘We’ll have to check Barclay’s alibi. We can’t afford to take his word. Will you go over and see this dame? Make the check as complete as you can.’
‘I’ll drive over tonight,’ Kerman said, suddenly enthusiastic. ‘Kitty Hitchens, eh? I once knew a redhead called Kitty. She was double jointed. Talk about acrobatics...’ He gave a deep sigh, then went on, suddenly excited, ‘Say! If this Hitchens doll fell for a sissy like Barclay how’s she going to react to me?’
‘She’ll probably call a cop,’ I said irritably. ‘For the love of God, get your mind off women, can’t you? We have a job of work to do, and so far we’re doing it damned badly.’
I pulled away from the kerb and headed downtown fast.
III
There was a light showing through the windows of my cabin as I pulled up outside the gate. Whoever was in there wasn’t making a secret of it, so I decided it couldn’t be a burglar, but just to be on the safe side I crept up the verandah steps and peered cautiously into the room. A faint but subtle perfume wafted through the open french windows to greet me.
Miss Bolus lay on the casting couch, a magazine in one hand and glass half-full of neat Scotch in the other. A cigarette drooped from her full red lips and an irritable little frown wrinkled her brows. She wore a white taffeta evening dress with a low-cut, strapless bodice that set off her golden-tanned shoulders and swept in a full skirt to her brocaded satin shoes.
Not quite sure if what I saw was an illusion, I stood in the doorway and gaped at her. She looked up, dropped the magazine on to the floor and gave me a brief, disinterested nod of her head.
‘I thought you were never coming,’ she said petulantly. ‘I’ve been waiting hours.’
‘If I had known you were here I would have hurried,’ I said, coming into the room. ‘What goes on?’
‘You’d better hurry,’ she said. ‘We’re going out.’
‘We are? Where?’
‘Where do you think? I have found the Packard.’
‘At L’Etoile?’
‘That’s where you told me to look for it, isn’t it? It was with a lot of other cars in the rear garage.’
‘And you found it — just like that?’ I reached for the whisky bottle, poured a drink and sat down on the edge of the couch. ‘Any trouble?’
‘Don’t sit on my dress you oaf,’ she said crossly. ‘Of course I didn’t have any trouble. I just talked to one of the mechanics.’ She looked at me out of the corners of her chinky eyes. ‘Men find it easy to talk to me.’