Safer Dead

‘She never mentioned a guy named Henry Rutland to you, did she?’

Irene shook her head.

‘No.’

‘She had a charm bracelet. Did you ever see it?’

‘Yes. I’ve often seen it.’

‘Did you notice a golden apple among the charms?’

Irene looked surprised.

‘Oh yes. Mr. Royce gave it to her. It was soon after she had got the job at the Golden Apple. She had made a hit on her first night, and Mr. Royce gave it to her as a memento.’

‘Hamilton Royce? He owns the club, doesn’t he?’

She nodded.

Hamilton Royce - Henry Rutland, I was thinking. Could he be one and the same?

‘Have you ever seen him?’

‘Oh no. Although Frankie didn’t talk about him much, I think she liked him. I’ve never seen him myself.’

‘Did she ever say what he looked like?’

‘I don’t think she did, but I have the impression she thought he was very good looking.’

I decided I should have to take a look at Mr. Royce. He interested me.

We talked on for another half hour, but I learned nothing further. Irene had just so much information to give me, and no more. But I had one more lead to follow. My next move was to take a look at Royce.

I took Irene home, promised I would let her know if I made any startling discoveries, then drove back to the Beach Hotel.

I went up to my room, got into bed and lay in the dark, considering my progress.

Fay obviously had a mysterious man friend. For some reason or other she had kept quiet about him to Irene. If the association had been straightforward the most natural thing would have been for her to discuss him with Irene. But she hadn’t done so. Why? Was he Royce? At least I had one small clue. This guy smoked Egyptian cigarettes: a little unusual, but not all that unusual.

Had Fay left on the night of August 2nd? If she had, it was possible she had gone with her boyfriend. I wasn’t forgetting that she and Henry Rutland booked in at the Shad Hotel, Welden, on the same day.

The time lag between August 2nd, when she left Tampa City and August 9th, when she arrived at Welden, puzzled me. Seven days - where had she been and what had she been doing during those seven days?

‘Work at it, Sherlock,’ I said to myself. ‘This time lag may be the key to the whole mystery, so work on it.’

It was after two o’clock before I fell asleep.

II

A little after noon the following day, I drove out to Lennox Hartley’s house.

The Filipino boy who opened the door showed me into the lounge and said he would ask if Mr. Hartley was free to see me. I waited half an hour before Hartley appeared, in a red and white striped dressing gown over pearl grey pyjamas. He looked rather the worse for wear, but at least he had shaved and bathed.

‘You again,’ he said and laboured across the carpet to the cocktail cabinet. ‘Scotch or gin?’

I said Scotch sounded right.

He made two large highballs, handed me one with a hand that was no steadier than an aspen leaf, then sank into an armchair, took a swig from his glass, shuddered and closed his eyes.

‘Sunlight and early callers are hell,’ he said mournfully. ‘I sometimes wish I lived on the moon. Have you ever thought of living on the moon?’

I said since, from what I had heard, there was no air worth mentioning up there and also it was pretty cold, I had never given it serious consideration as an asylum.

He stared up at me and shrugged.

‘Maybe you’re right, but think how isolated you’d be.’ He took another drink, then asked, ‘Well, old fella, what is it this time?’

‘You are a member of the Golden Apple club, aren’t you?’

He looked surprised.

‘That’s right, but don’t hold it against me. Why?’

‘I want you to take me there tonight.’

He gaped at me, then smiled and set his glass down on the occasional table at his side.

‘You are quite a guy, aren’t you? So you want me to take you to the club, do you? This is very interesting, Mr. Slade - is that your name?’

‘Sladen,’ I said.

‘Sorry.’ He groped for his glass, found it and held it close to his chest. ‘Mr. Sladen, this is very interesting. What makes you imagine for one moment that I want to take you to the Golden Apple tonight? I don’t want to sound boorish, but let’s be reasonable about this. I met you for the first time yesterday, and now you are suggesting I should take you to the most expensive dive on the coast and spend my good money on you. Don’t take offence, Mr. Sladen, but when I go out and spend my money recklessly I like to spend it on a girl who will be duty bound to pay off in return. See what I mean?’

I laughed.

‘Sure, that’s the way I like to do it too, but this is business and important. I have reason to think Frances Bennett has been murdered.’

He spilled some of the whisky on his dressing gown, but he didn’t even notice.

‘Murdered?’

‘Yes. It’s important I get into the club and take a look around. You’re the only person I know in town who is a member. You’ll be doing the police a service if you’d take me in tonight.’

He stared down at the carpet while he thought. The process seemed to be painful to judge by his screwed up expression.

‘Someone belonging to the club kill her?’ he asked.