I LEANED back and took a deep puff on my cigarette. Tommy bent over my chair and I gave him a look, eyebrows at top mast.
“Margaret—er, now look—” He hesitated.
“Yes?” Stiffly. And added, “It’s come to a pretty state of affairs when a person can’t voice an opinion without some dumb cop getting suspicious!”
“Now, Margaret—”
“That’s my name. What are you trying to say?”
“I’ve been talking to Les.”
“I saw you. I hope you gave him hell.”
“Now, Margaret, he didn’t mean to accuse you of murder. He just caught part of what you said and it sounded like you knew a lot about the way McGowan got bumped.”
“As a detective—a chief of detectives—you’re supposed to know something about the process of deduction,” I snapped at him.
“Hey! Hold on! It was Beton who got you riled, not me! This is Tommy, remember me? I’m your pal!”
“Are you?” I narrowed my eyes, recalling the speculative look he’d given me when Beton was popping off at the mouth.
“Of course, I am,” he assured me. “Now I think you’ve used some darn good deductive theory so far and I want your help and opinion on some other things. Will you play ball?”
When a chief of detectives talks like that! I all but purred!
“You know I will. I’ve told you about all I know, though.”
“You said he and your brother went somewhere for dinner. Where?”
“I have no idea, but I can find out.” I called my house again and Bertha answered. Brett, she told me, was not home.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“He headin’ fo whar you is,” she said succinctly.
I replaced the receiver.
“Brett’s on his way over here.”
Beton was standing near me, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Well?” I looked at him inquiringly.
“Uh, Margaret. I didn’t mean to call you a murderess. But you did talk sort of suspiciously, you know.”
“Your sudden contrition wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you know my big brother is on his way here, would it?” I asked nastily.
He reddened angrily. “Why, you damned red-headed snip! I ain’t scared of your brother! And I ain’t scared of that rag you work for either! For two cents I’d run you in and have you held on suspicion!”
I fumbled in my change purse, found two cents, and jumped to my feet.
“Oh, you would!” I thrust my hand with the pennies right under his nose. “Well, here’s your two cents. Go ahead and take me in! I dare you! I’ll have your badge so fast it won’t be funny! I’ll—”
What else I’d do was cut short by Tommy, who stepped in between us.
“Godammit! I’m sick of your bickering! Now behave or I’ll slug both of you! I mean it.”
“I’ll behave. Just make that lug layoff of me!” I settled back into my chair, glowering at Beton who glared right back.
Joe Shem walked over to me.
“Look, kid. There’s no call for you to fight with Les. He’s a good guy and a good cop. Go ahead and tell him you’re sorry.”
I was about to tell Shem where he could go when Grady popped his head in the door and announced a Mr. Slone was out and wanted in.
Gross ordered him admitted and Brett blew in the door. I stared at him, mouth agape. His hair was every which way, his collar open, and he wasn’t shaved. He looked like hell.
“Whew!” I whistled. “You’re a sight!”
“So what? You say you’ll call back and you don’t and I try to get you and can’t, so I call McCarthy and he tells me you’ve been accused of murder! I beat it over here without stopping for anything.”
“McCarthy’s brand of humor stinks,” I said bitterly. “Why couldn’t you get me? I’ve only left the room once and I wasn’t gone long then.”
“The operator said she had orders not to accept any incoming calls to this room unless it was the police.”
“Tommy, do you know anything about that?” I asked.
He shook his head, puzzled. “Nothing. I didn’t give them.”
“Call the operator. That’s what she told me.” Brett’s jaw was jutting a bit.
Tommy picked up the phone and questioned the girl. She said a call had come from the district attorney’s office setting down those orders. Tommy hung up and shook his head bewilderedly.
“I don’t get it. Why should the D.A. give such an order without telling me about it?”
“Call and ask him.” I suggested.
The D.A. knew nothing about it either. Light began to dawn.
“It’s a gag!” I exclaimed. “Brett, you know Johnny Morrow. Did you see him downstairs?”
“Sure. He was in the lobby talking to a couple of guys. I said hello to him.”
“Is that all you said?”
“All I had time for—the elevator was waiting.”
I began to laugh. “That’s rich! Morrow figured Dennis and others would call me here, so he puts in that phony order from the booth downstairs thinking he might get a break on the story. Then he passes up a chance for some real information by letting Brett walk right by him! Dope!”
Tommy smiled. “I’d better call off that order.” He did that, then turned to me. “Is this your brother?”
I looked at him blankly. “Don’t you know Brett? Oh!” I turned to Brett. “This is Tommy Gross, a swell guy and a swell detective,” I said. “And this is Les Beton—a detective. You know Joe Shem and Art Herrot.”
The amenities over, he turned to me.
“Now then, what’s all this about? Are you in dutch?”
“Of course not,” I answered the last query first. “Ned McGowan has been murdered though. And in a devilishly clever way.”
“Ned murdered? So someone finally washed him out. How?”
I heard his matter-of-fact acceptance of murder with some surprise.
“Yeah, someone washed him out all right.” Tommy’s satire was subtle. “Washed his mouth out—with a poisoned toothbrush. We think the poison was planted by a woman.”
“You don’t seem much surprised.” Beton watched him warily.
Brett opened his mouth and put his foot in up to the ankle.
“I’m not. Not a bit. I’ve been telling that guy for years that some dame would kill him before he got distinguished gray hair at the temples.”
Beton jumped like a cat on a mouse.
“Now did you! How come you told him that?”
“Because of the way he treated women.”
“Whadda y’ mean? How did he treat women?”
I started to say I’d told that sorry story, then shut up. I’d said enough.
“It’s a little hard to explain,” Brett said slowly. “Girls, well, they were just a sort of amusement with Ned, and he didn’t stay amused with the same one for very long. He played the field, but he did it so every field runner thought she was favorite in the betting. I didn’t like that trait in him, but that may have been because I’m a one woman man and my girl knows that. She ought to, she hears it often enough.” He grinned;
Tommy smiled warmly. “And when you tell her so you mean it. Right?”
“You’re damn tooting I mean it!” Brett’s grin widened.
“Who is she? Or is it any of my business?”
“If you’d known me an hour you’d know who she is. I’m surprised Margaret hasn’t told you. Her name is Antoinette Merceron. She’s the sister of the girl Ned was to marry.”
Tommy and Beton both looked at me, somewhat accusingly.
“I did tell you she was Brett’s girl!” I defended myself.
“You said she was one of the dames McGowan ran with!” Beton accused.
“Well, she—”
Brett interrupted me, his voice rather tight. “Margaret has never liked Toni, but it’s true she did have a few dates with Ned. I was away at the time, working for a private outfit in Chicago. As soon as I came home she stopped going out with him and he took up with Vette.”
I sighed with relief but thought: There was a damn sight more to Ned and Toni than that, my lad!
“This McGowan—he was always chasing women, huh?” Beton asked.
“Always chasing them and always, brushing them off,” Brett answered. “I used to tell him that someday he’d try to brush off the wrong woman.”
“You did, huh?”
“Sure. Lots of times. When Ned got ready to brush off a woman and she didn’t brush easy, he could be a skunk!”
Beton’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t like this guy too much, did you?”
“Of course I liked him,” Brett asserted. “I just didn’t like the way he treated women. Maybe that’s because I have several sisters.”
“Say, that’s right!” Beton exclaimed and I cringed, knowing what was coming next. “Didn’t he play around with one of your sisters?”
Brett smiled wryly. “He tried to play around with all of my sisters at one time or another. The youngest one went for him for a while but I soon stopped that.”
I smirked, thinking: If he believes that, let him!
“How many sisters have you?” Beton asked.
“Six. Three married and three single at home.”
“Did this McGowan date the married ones before they got hitched?”
Brett was getting tired of questions. His jaw jutted out again. “Hey, what’s the gag? Am I on the witness stand or something?”
“Of course not.” Tommy took over smoothly. “What we really wanted to ask you was where did you and the doctor have dinner last night? If you came back to the hotel with him you may have been among the last to see him alive.”
Brett relaxed his jaw into a smile. “I didn’t come back. I left him where we had dined, at Mrs. Gerald Dellman’s.”
“Mrs. Dellman’s!” I squawked. “Why, that’s who Miss Cheng said—” I stopped, wishing I’d bitten my tongue before I squawked.
“Yes, Margaret?” Tommy queried. “What about Miss Cheng and Mrs. Dellman?”
“Nothing much. You heard those cracks Miss Cheng made to her and also about her and Ned. You were here. Then when Brett said that was where they had dinner it—well, it just sort of surprised me.”
“I see. Does Miss Cheng really think Mrs. Delman is mixed up in this?”
“She does—and she’s nuts,” I said firmly.
Brett broke in, in an unexpected manner. “You’ve a nerve calling Lili nuts!” he said angrily. “She’s a damn nice girl and plenty smart.”
I was amazed and furious. “You shut up! What the hell do you know about it? Were you here when she was holding forth?”
“I must have missed that.” Beton looked his curiosity. “What did she hold forth about?”
“Oh, a lot of damn silly nonsense. She accused every woman Ned had ever known of murdering him. Mrs. Dellman knew him.”
“It seems to me you’ve been conducting this investigation!” he sneered.
“That ain’t so!” Joe Shem blurted belligerently. “I was right here and heard every word Miss Cheng said before you guys came in. She kept whooping that Doc had been murdered. We didn’t think so then and Margaret told her she was nuts. That’s all Margaret did.”
“We understand, Joe.” Tommy hid a smile. “By the way, Margaret. You took that phone away from Miss Cheng. What did Mrs. Dellman say to you?”
“Nothing important.” I threw an irritated glance at Beton and Brett. “She was shocked and surprised and wanted to know if there was anything she could do, that’s all. Suspecting her would be as stupid as suspecting me. She’s not the the killer type either.”
To my surprise Beton agreed. “Of course she ain’t! She’s a real lady and she always buys a couple hundred dollars of tickets to the police ball.”
That seemed to settle Mrs. Dellman’s innocence as far as Les was concerned. But not so Tommy.
“We have to suspect every woman he was friendly with, married or single. We can’t leave anyone out.”
I wondered if that sweeping category included me and started to ask, but for once I kept my trap shut. The questioning resumed a static routine.
“What time did you leave the doctor, Mr. Slone?” Tommy asked.
“About 10:00 last night. I had to get to the field and I figured an hour to get home, change clothes, and get to the field. My charter left at 11:00. Toni drove me out, then she went back to rejoin the party.”
“Oh! It was a party?”
“Just a small one. Five for dinner, including Mrs. Dellman. Mr. Dellman is out of town. A girl who is a sort of companion-nurse to Marta joined us for coffee.”
“I didn’t know Mrs. Dellman needed a nurse,” Tommy remarked.
“She doesn’t, really. She has migraine and she’s very nervous. But the girl is more of a companion, even though she is a registered nurse.”
“I see. Now one more thing. Who do you know who might want to kill McGowan?”
Brett smiled grimly. “You should have asked how many ex-girls of Ned’s might want to murder him. I’d say pretty nearly all of them. That’s a large list of suspects.”
“I suppose so! Well, put it this way. Was he afraid of anyone.?”
Brett snorted. “Him? Hell no! I used to warn him and he laughed in my face. One day he said to me, ‘Bub, all women can be had and if they can be had they can be let go when you’re ready. Women like to think they’re tigresses but actually they’re kittens. Let them know you mean scat when you say it and they’ll scat.’ ”
“So that’s the way he had it figured.”
“That’s the way.”
Tommy rocked on his heels, back and forth. “Mr. Slone, you said Miss Merceron drove you to the field?”
“She did and we sat in the car talking while the ship was being serviced and warmed up. When the passengers started going aboard I left her.”
“And she went back to Mrs. Dellman’s?”
“I suppose she did.” Brett was getting impatient.
“I realize this questioning is tiresome.” Tommy sounded apologetic. “But it is important. If your girl went back, then both sisters must have been seen home by Dr. McGowan. If so, they must have been the last of his friends to see him alive.”
“I suppose they could have been. You couldn’t call the one who killed him a friend.” Brett grinned ruefully.
“The killer doesn’t necessarily have to have been the last one to see him alive. That poison could have been planted any time yesterday. We don’t know. But we do know the two sisters were with him until late. Is that right?”
“I suppose so.”
“You suppose so?” Beton stressed the word. “Don’t you know? Haven’t you called your girl since you heard of your friend’s death. Seems to me you’d have done that as soon as you got the word.”
Brett looked at him steadily. The look was not friendly.
“I called but they weren’t home. They’d gone shopping. Trousseau shopping. Poor Vette, she won’t need a trousseau now.”
“We’ll get in touch with them later,” Tommy said.
“Then may I go? Or have you more questions?” Brett asked.
“No more questions and you may go when you wish.” Tommy smiled. “You’re not under suspicion, you know. We’re looking for a woman.”
There was no answering smile from Brett.
“I’m glad to hear that. Your buddy seems to be willing to suspect anyone, man or woman.”
“Oh, him!” I said airily. “Pay no attention to that dope.”
Beton glared at me and opened his mouth to speak. I unsheathed my claws and waited. But Tommy cut us off with a stem look and a warning.
“All right now, you two! You know what I told you.”
We subsided sullenly as Ed Jolly, another Homicide man, walked in. He went at once to Tommy and spoke in a low tone. Low as it was my sharp ears caught the murmur.
“That toothbrush was still coated with that poison.”
“That cinches it for murder then!” Tommy said. “No man would go to all that trouble to commit suicide.”
I flashed a triumphant look at Beton. “Did you hear that, ninny?”
“Hear what?”
“What Jolly just said. It was the poisoned toothbrush, just like I said! Now maybe you won’t be so god dam smart when someone tries to tell you something!”
“Yeah? Well, I’d still like to know how come you knew so damn much about how he got it!”
Brett doubled up his fists and glared at the detective. “Listen you—I”
Tommy interfered. “Now, look here, Les!” he said angrily. “If you don’t stop being so damn funny I’ll take you off the case. I’ve had just enough!”
I giggled at Beton’s discomfiture but sobered as another thought struck me. “Hey, Jolly! Was Johnny Morrow in the lobby?”
He nodded. “Sure. Why?”
“Did you tell him about that brush?”
“Yeah. The D.A. said it was okay to let you guys have it.”
I groaned and looked at my watch. Then I brightened. I could get it in in plenty of time for the Pink. I asked Brett to wait and called Dennis.
“The brush was poisoned,” I told him. “Coated with curare. Good alliterative line, that. Anyhow it ties up the case as murder.”
“Fine. Come on in and do a feature on it.”
“Feature?” I howled. “Now? You’re screwy! It’s 5:20 and I’m off in ten minutes. I’m going home.”
“I said to come in and do a feature on it. I want one for the Streak.”
“But I’m—”
“You heard me,” Dennis said quietly.
“Oh all right!” I slammed down the receiver, grumbling, “I’ll do him a feature! Some day I’ll do him dirt!”
I started for the door but Tommy motioned me to wait.
“What do you want?” I asked ungraciously. “I’m in a hurry.”
He reddened self-consciously. “I just wanted to know if you were going to be home this evening.”
I grinned impudently. “I ’spect so darlin’. Why? Are you planning to make a social call or am I to be tailed?”
“Don’t be nasty. I just wanted to know where to reach you in case I needed you, that’s all.”
“I don’t know why you should need me for anything, but I’ll be home—in my bed.” At the time I meant it.
Brett and I left and caught the elevator. Outside on the sidewalk I stopped and looked at him.
“You going any place but home?”
“I guess I’ll have to go out to Toni’s. Vette must be pretty broken up. She loved Ned and I believe he really loved her. They’d probably have been very happy.”
“I doubt it,” I said cynically. “But you can’t tell. Some of the worse chasers develop into ardent hearth-huggers. What time will you be home?”
“Early. I’m tired out.”
“I’ll see you later then—and before you go anywhere comb your hair and get a shave. You look like the wrath of God!”
I left him and walked over to the newspaper building, taking my own sweet time about getting there. I strode defiantly into the city room and got the shock of my life. Dennis beamed on me and the copy desk men placed me in an admiring circle! I was the hit of the evening!
So completely did I wallow in it, I even let McCarthy talk me into doing a complete résumé of the story and a feature. It wasn’t until I’d worked up a sweat getting it all done that I began to wonder if I hadn’t been rooked by a smart Mick. I was harboring that suspicion when I left the city room.
Downstairs I stood for a moment, undecided whether to go home or stay in town for dinner and a show. There was a picture at Loew’s I wanted to see. I decided to stay down. If Tommy wanted me he could damn well wait until I got home. With a fine sense of freedom, I got in my car and started for Kolb’s.
In the restaurant I ordered, then called home and told Bertha I’d not be there for dinner. I ate leisurely, enjoying the first free evening I’d had for weeks. Finished with the meal, I took a cigarette—preparing to idle over coffee.
There were no matches on the table and none in my purse so I reached into my suit coat pocket. Once more my hand closed over that filched pair of keys.
“Damn!” I spoke aloud and took them out. Once more I studied the chain and the two keys, my curiosity mounting by the second.
What could they mean to this murder? Whose apartment did they belong to? What in time was Ned McGowan doing with them?
To all three questions I told myself sternly: None of your damned business. I made up my mind again to get rid of them at the earliest moment possible, slipped them back in my pocket, paid my check and left—intending to walk over to the theater.
I never got there.