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Authors: Carola Dunn

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BOOK: The Case of the Murdered Muckraker
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“I do try to be useful to dear Genevieve,” she said with earnest modesty.
“Couldn't get on without you,” her sister said gruffly.
Her beam still brighter, Miss Cabot refilled cups and returned to her eternal knitting.
Daisy finished her coffee and said, “I really must take myself and Mr. Lambert off now and not take up any more of your time. It was most frightfully kind of you to insist on the sergeant coming up here instead of dragging me off to police headquarters, which sounds simply beastly.”
“It's a grim place,” Miss Genevieve said. “But I promise you, you did me a favour by agreeing to come. You must have realized that curiosity is my besetting sin.”
“Mine too,” Daisy admitted with a chuckle.
“So you will understand, I feel sure, if I ask you to keep me current with what's going on in the investigation.”
“You shall know all that I know. But once Alec arrives, I'm not likely to get a chance to find out any more.”
“You're involved, though, as I cannot pretend to be. I could wish that Bender didn't know you're able to identify the killer.”
“Gosh, you don't think … But he's in the hands of the police.”
“Who can't stop him seeing his lawyer, and can't stop
his lawyer leaving their premises, and can't stop him passing information to anyone he chooses.”
“Gosh!” said Daisy, a cold frisson shuddering down her spine.
“Don't worry,” said Lambert manfully, “I won't stir from your side till Mr. Fletcher gets here.”
Miss Genevieve gave him a disparaging look and said, “Pah!”
Which didn't make Daisy feel any safer.
“
C
armody was right about one thing,” observed Lambert as he and Daisy headed for the elevators.”
“What's that?”
“When he called Miss Genevieve ‘Madame Guillotine.' I bet she could sever heads with that look.”
“You haven't met my husband yet,” said Daisy. Alec's glance of icy displeasure was capable of freezing erring subordinates to the marrow or making criminals feel they might be better off at the North Pole. It even, occasionally, gave his wife pause.
“Gee whiz!” Lambert quailed. “Mr. Fletcher's not going to be too pleased with me.”
“Don't worry, he won't blame you. If he'd known in advance what Mr. Hoover planned, he'd have told him not to bother to give me a watchdog. Even Alec's never been able to keep me from getting mixed up in things.” She pressed the elevator bell push. “I'm going up to my room now, till lunchtime. If you don't want to lurk in the corridor, you could ask Patrolman Hicks to notify you if I try to sneak out.”
“I'll stay. Keeping you out of trouble is one thing, but after what Miss Genevieve said … I'd never be able to face Mr. Fletcher if Bender's thugs came looking for you and I wasn't there.”
“Don't remind me. Though surely the lawyer can hardly have reached police headquarters yet, let alone learnt about me from Bender and passed word to someone else.”
“I'll stay,” Lambert repeated as the lift creaked to a halt in front of them.
“Right-oh, it's up to you. Hello, Kevin. Seventh, please.”
“O.K., ma'am. Going up.” The boy seemed uncharacteristically subdued.
“Is anything wrong?” Daisy asked as the lift started off again.
“I din't wanna help the cops none,” said Kevin, “not after how they treated Bridey. But I figured the D.A.'d put a crimp in Gilligan's style if he got to bullying you, so I tol' the dick where you was. And then after, I tol' that harness bull where to find the 'tecs 'cause I figured you and Miss Genevieve'd wanna know them two'd gotten theirselves nabbed.”
“How right you were,” Daisy said cordially. “By the way, I don't suppose you've taken Mr. Pitt up or down today, have you?”
“Nah, ain't seen him since yesterday, and it's no good asking the guys on the night shift ‘cause they wouldn't neither of 'em notice if a hefalunt got inna their elevators.”
“Well, if he comes in, I'd appreciate it if you'd try to let me know.”
“O.K., ma'am. Here we are, seventh floor.”
“Thanks, Kevin. And especial thanks for sending Mr.
Rosenblatt and the other policeman to the Cabots' suite.” Daisy felt in her purse for a tip.
Kevin put his freckled, grubby hand over hers. “None o' that,” he said gruffly. “I'da done the same for any pal.” He brightened. “But I don't care if your minder wants ta tip me.”
Lambert handed over a half-dollar with a sigh.
Daisy had scarcely shut the door of her room on him when the telephone bell rang.
“Mrs. Fletcher?” said the hotel operator. “There's a Mr. Thorwald on the line. He's been trying to get ahold of you all morning.”
“Put him through, please,” said Daisy, instantly sure that he had reread her article and hated it.
The usual clicks and buzzes were succeeded by Thorwald's agitated voice. “Mrs. Fletcher, they think I did it!”
“I beg your pardon?” Daisy's mind was still on her article.
“The police!” Thorwald took an audible deep and calming breath. “That is, the Deputy District Attorney requests my attendance at the Criminal Courts Building at three o'clock this afternoon, and Detective Sergeant Gilligan has dispatched a plainclothesman to escort me to police headquarters immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“I have contrived to delay the latter by means of a variety of stratagems, desiring to consult with you before placing myself irrevocably in their hands. My dear Mrs. Fletcher, your husband is a senior detective officer, and you have given me to understand that you are not unfamiliar with police methods, in England if not in this country. Advise me!”
“Gosh,” said Daisy, thinking furiously. “Right-oh, I'll do my best. First, when did you get the summons from Mr. Rosenblatt?”
“At approximately ten o'clock this morning. I telephoned you immediately, but the hotel operator was unable to discover your whereabouts.”
He couldn't have asked Kevin, Daisy thought. “How much evidence were you, um, able to give them yesterday?” she asked.
“Er-hum, not a vast quantity,” Thorwald confessed sheepishly. “I, hmm, found it extraordinarily difficult to concentrate upon their inquiries.”
“Then I should think Rosenblatt has simply given you time to, er, recover your equilibrium before asking you to repeat your account of what you observed and did. I shouldn't worry about him. As for Gilligan, how long have you been holding his minion at bay?”
“Approximately fifteen minutes. Seventeen, to be precise.”
“Well done!” said Daisy. “Let's see, he must have sent for you after he took Barton Bender into custody, so …”
“The culprit has been arrested?” Hope rang down the wire.
“Not exactly. He's only classified as a suspect still, but sufficiently suspicious to be taken in for questioning. Grilling, as they say here. I expect Gilligan just wants you to take a look at him and see if you can identify him. The worthy sergeant has virtually no confidence in my competence as a witness.”
Nor I in his competence as a detective
, Daisy added to herself.
“Is that all?” said Thorwald with a sigh of relief. “I can but reiterate that I did not observe the person whom you
and young Lambert pursued down the staircase.”
“That's only my guess,” Daisy cautioned. “With Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, anything's possible.”
An explosive snort of laughter reached her ear. “Rosencrantz and … ? My dear Mrs. Fletcher!”
“Blast, I've been trying not to say that. Mr. Thorwald, have you got a solicitor? A lawyer? It wouldn't hurt to take him with you when you go to see those two.”
“A reasonable precaution,” Thorwald agreed, sobering. “I shall telephone my legal adviser immediately and arrange for him to meet me there. However, I am persuaded that you have interpreted the situation correctly. I was foolishly apprehensive. Thank you, my dear Mrs. Fletcher, for your inestimable reassurance.”
Daisy said good-bye, hung up, and started worrying. She found it hard to believe anyone could seriously suspect Mr. Thorwald of shooting Carmody, or anyone else for that matter. On the other hand, she was the only person who could say with any certainty that her editor had not fired a gun from close behind her, and Rosenblatt and Gilligan were not inclined to credit her evidence.
As she had told Thorwald, with Rosenblatt and Gilligan anything seemed possible. They were at least as much concerned with politics as with the law, if not more so. If their case against Barton Bender fell through, Thorwald might be the next scapegoat.
Or Daisy might find herself filling that role.
Between Scylla and Charybdis, she thought uneasily. Bender's thugs on one side, the not particularly long but quite possibly crooked arm of the law on the other. Perhaps she ought to skedaddle, as Miss Genevieve put it.
She was sure of a welcome with Mr. Arbuckle and the
Petries, in Connecticut, not too far away but in a different state. She could always leave a message for Rosenblatt, and another for Alec.
No, Alec would be here in a few hours. Though she hadn't much confidence in Lambert as a defender, she trusted Alec. His official status would protect her from the police and the D.A., and with him beside her she wasn't afraid of Bender's bullyboys. And then there was Whitaker. The federal agent who was coming with Alec would surely force the New York authorities to stop looking for scapegoats and investigate Tammany's thugs.
Gosh, not another lot of thugs after her! Daisy groaned. She would be
very
happy to see Alec, even though it meant admitting, to herself if not to him, that she wasn't quite as independent as she'd like to think herself.
It was a pity, too, that she wasn't going to get a chance to work out for herself who was the murderer. Hired thugs were altogether beyond her purview.
In the meantime, while she had no intention of cowering in her room till Alec arrived, she was glad of an excuse to stay there for the moment. She had had the brilliant idea of writing up her experiences with the New York police to sell in England. To be published under a pseudonym, she supposed, so as not to upset Superintendent Crane and the Assistant Commissioner (Crime).
Turning to the typewriter, Daisy prepared to do battle.
 
When Daisy ventured forth from her room, urged onward by hunger pangs, she expected to find Lambert lurking in the passage near her door. His absence brought a frown. Little though she felt able to rely on his abilities, his company would have been comforting.
Annoyance gave way to alarm—had the thugs picked him off first, before tackling her? But before she could panic, she remembered Patrolman Hicks. A uniformed policeman would surely have given “them” pause.
Not that Hicks was at his post, either. Daisy found them both by the elevators, where Kevin was teaching Lambert to play at jacks, while Hicks watched with avuncular interest. So much for the guardians of the law's majesty.
Lambert scrambled to his feet, his unfortunate blush mantling his ingenuous face. Daisy sympathized.
“Lunchtime,” she said brightly.
“Swell!”
“It's O.K. for some,” Hicks grumbled.
“You want I should fetch you a sandwich?” offered Kevin.
“Say, yeah, do that, willya? Here's a buck and you can keep the change. Anything 'cept toonafish. Me, I don't like toonafish.”
Kevin took Daisy and Lambert down. “That guy's O.K. for a bull,” he said grudgingly. “Some people, they expect you to fetch 'em summat out of your own pocket, and then when they pay you they want the change!”
“He must be grateful that you told him where to find Sergeant Gilligan,” Daisy suggested.
“He's O.K. Say, where you gonna eat, ma‘am? 'Cause if you're going out and you don't want nuttin fancy, there's a swell Eyetie place just round on Seventh Avenoo. Looigi's. Tell 'em I sent you and they'll give you the works.”
With a commission to the boy, no doubt, Daisy guessed, asking directions. She wondered just how many pies he had his fingers in. A sudden thought struck her. No one knew
more than Kevin about what was going on in the hotel, at least during the day.
“Kevin,” she said impulsively, “will you let me know, and Mr. Lambert, too, if any rough-looking strangers ask about me?”
His blue eyes widened. “Geeeez!” he breathed, impressed, “are they after you, ma'am?”
“Probably not, but just to be on the safe side.”
“Sure! Don't you worry none, Mrs. Fletcher, ma'am, I got my ways of finding out things. If any tough sticks his nose through them doors, you'll hear about it long afore he gets to asking questions.”
“That's a weight off my mind,” said Daisy as the lift reached the lobby. “Thank you, Kevin.”
“You just stay here a minute, ma'am, while I go make sure the coast's clear.” Kevin dashed off, to return a moment later looking disappointed. “All clear,” he reported. “By the time you get back after lunch, I'll've gotten everything fixed up, so don't worry!”
“You've made his day,” said Lambert a trifle sourly. “I can take care of you if there's any trouble, you know. I've got my automatic.”
“That
is
a relief,” said Daisy, hoping she sounded sincere. Judging by what had happened last time he drew his gun, she would on the whole have preferred him to be unarmed.
They had a delicious and uneventful meal, served by a befreckled cousin of Kevin's who was married to the Italian proprietor-chef. Lambert insisted on paying for Daisy's lunch, saying grandly, “I'll put it on expenses.” He then proceeded to embarrass her thoroughly.
“Stay there a minute,” he ordered, as she picked up her
handbag preparatory to leaving. To the bewilderment of the few other lunchers, he went to the window, stood to one side, and peered out. Returning to Daisy, he said from one side of his mouth, “Looks O.K. I don't see anyone suspicious.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Gee, anyone that's not moving along. Not the newsboy, of course. Anyone hanging around with nothing special to do, I guess.”
“Lurking?” Daisy said unkindly, as he helped her on with her coat.
BOOK: The Case of the Murdered Muckraker
12.77Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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