Safer Dead

‘Your client, Miss Forrest, is with the Welden police right now, giving them a statement. We want you to support her statement. I can put some money and a lot of publicity your way if you will go to Welden and see Police Captain Creed. You’ll be the first private dick to have his photograph in Crime Facts.’

He pushed his hat to the back of his head while he stared at me.

‘What is all this?’

‘Frances Bennett was murdered in Welden. You say Royce fingered her to Flemming, a Frisco killer. That’s right, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know any Flemming.’

‘But you saw Royce finger the girl to a guy in a car, didn’t you?’

‘Suppose I did?’

‘I want you to sign a statement to that effect.’

Andrews moved his plastic teeth while he did some fast thinking.

‘What’s it worth?’ he asked at last.

‘Publicity and thirty a day expenses.’

He brooded some more then shook his head.

‘I’ve got to live here, pal. You’re after Royce, aren’t you? You’re kidding yourself. You won’t get him: he’s too smart. How long do you imagine I’d last if he found out I’d made a statement about him to the Welden police? Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but not more. That guy’s dangerous. The cops in this town love him. No: you don’t get any statement from me.’

‘You don’t seem to cotton on,’ I said patiently. ‘The girl was murdered. If you withhold information from the police you become an accessory.’

He frowned down at his desk.

‘I don’t know she’s murdered. I don’t know anything.’

By now I was sick of him and sick of his dirty little office. I gave it to him without gloves.

‘You either go to Welden right now and give Creed a statement or I’ll print your refusal to cooperate in Crime Facts. If I do that you’ll lose your licence.’

That seemed to hit him where he lived.

‘Now, wait a minute,’ he said hastily. ‘If you did that I’d sue you and your rag.’

I laughed.

‘Go ahead and sue us. We’d love it.’

He sat staring at me for a long moment, then he shrugged his shoulders.

‘Yeah, I guess you would. Well, okay, I know when I’m beat. It serves me right. I should never have taken on that job. Watching Royce was asking for trouble. I’ll see Creed.’

I took out my billfold and put twelve five dollar bills on the desk.

‘That’s two days retainer. I’ll call Creed and tell him you’re on your way in.’

He snapped up the bills and put them out of sight as if he were scared I might change my mind.

‘How long did you watch Miss Bennett?’ I asked.

‘Three days and two nights.’

‘During that time she was mostly with Royce?’

‘The first day she wasn’t. She went out to the Van Blakes’ place in the morning.’

I stiffened to attention.

‘When was this?’

He thought for a moment, then opening a drawer in his desk he took out a thick notebook, flicked through the pages, studied an entry and put the book back.

‘The morning of July 27th.’

‘Did she go in a cab?’

‘No. Lennox Hartley, the magazine artist, called for her. They went together in his car.’

‘How long did they stay?’

‘I don’t know. There was a guard on the gate and I couldn’t hang around. I picked her up at her apartment again in the late evening.’

‘You’re sure it was Hartley who was with her?’

‘Yeah; I know the guy well by sight.’

I asked more questions, but he hadn’t any further information to give me that Lydia Forrest hadn’t already told me.

‘Okay,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Get off to Creed right away. He’ll be expecting you.’

From Andrews’ office I drove to a drug store and called Creed. I told him Andrews was on his way in.

‘I’ve got something for you,’ Creed said after I had told him Fay had been with Hartley to the Van Blakes’ house. ‘Two years ago, Mrs. Van Blake bought a green and cream Cadillac convertible from Manning and Howland, the San Francisco dealers. She traded it in on August 20th last year, three days after Fay’s disappearance, for a Bentley. Looks like she lent the car to

Royce, doesn’t it? No other car of that description has been sold in Tampa City. It must be the one Royce used in Welden.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, we seem to be making progress. I’m going after more witnesses now. I’ll keep in touch,’ and I hung up.

I turned up Irene Jarrard’s telephone number and put through a call, but there was no answer. That didn’t surprise me. She would be at work at this time in the morning.

I turned up the Hammerville Engineering Works and put through a call to Vincent Latimer. After a struggle, I persuaded Latimer’s secretary to let me talk to Latimer. When I told him I had urgent and private business to discuss with him, he said he could give me ten minutes if I called within the next half hour.

At thirty-three minutes past eleven, I was ushered into his office by a dark, cool-eyed lovely who said in a well-modulated voice, ‘Mr. Sladen is here, Mr. Latimer,’ as if he couldn’t see me, and went away, shutting the door as if it were made of icing sugar.