Чарльз Кенни - This Is Murder

“The federal officers aren’t at all satisfied.”

“I never saw her until last night,” Moraine said. “Since that time I’ve seen her just once. That was when I went up to the apartment.”

Morden’s voice suddenly lost its tone of facetious banter. He leaned toward Moraine and said, “You can’t make that stick. You’re mixed up in this thing, and you’re holding out some information. Now kick through.”

Phil Duncan raised his hand.

“Remember, Barney,” he said, “Sam is our friend.”

Barney Morden’s tone did not soften.

“He ain’t a friend if he holds out important information at a time like this.”

“What is it you want to know,” Moraine asked, “specifically?”

“I want to know the whole story of your relations with the Hartwell woman,” Barney Morden told him.

Moraine, staring steadily at him, said, “I was afraid of that, Barney. I was afraid I couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes. You see, she jilted me at the altar in order to marry Doctor Hartwell. I swore that I’d get even so I employed detectives to keep a watch on the place. I learned every one of her habits — where she went and what she did. Then, when she started doing some secretarial work here in the city, I swooped down on her and kidnapped her. I held her prisoner for two weeks in a boat, and she still resisted my importunities. So I said, ‘To hell with the broad. I’d rather have ten thousand dollars anyway.’ Her figure isn’t so good since she got married, and she’s lost a lot of her charming ways. So I took the ten thousand bucks, and charged my romance off on the profit and loss account.”

Morden’s face darkened with rage.

Phil Duncan, stepping forward, put a friendly hand on Moraine’s shoulder.

“Listen, Sam,” he said, “cut out the horse play. This is no time for kidding. Barney and I have plenty to worry us.”

“So it would seem,” Moraine told him. “But you’re not taking me into your confidence. Incidentally, I’m telling you fellows every blessed thing I know about the case — so far.”

“You mean you’re expecting to find out more?”

“Frankly, yes.”

“What is it?”

“I may tell you when I find out. I may not. Why are you fellows so worked up about the case?”

Phil Duncan said slowly, “This case may have a political background. The Hartwell woman had been doing some secretarial work for Carl Thorne. Carl Thorne wanted someone he could trust. The work was very private, and very confidential. Thorne is commencing to suspect that so-called kidnapping wasn’t on the up-and-up.

“A lot hinges on that Hartwell woman. The federal authorities thought her story sounded fishy, but, because of your connection with it, and because of the fact I vouched for you, they didn’t put the screws down as tightly as they would have otherwise. They figured that when you said you’d paid over ten thousand dollars in ransom money, you had done so. They figured that when you said the girl was actually in the custody of kidnapers that such was the case.”

“Well?” Moraine asked.

Morden thrust out a finger, leveled it at Moraine’s chest.

“Sam,” he said, “did you pay ten thousand dollars?”

Sam Moraine stared steadily at Morden for a few seconds, then said slowly, “I told you that I did, and I did. When I tell you birds a thing, it’s so. Incidentally, Barney, I don’t like the way you’re going at this thing.”

“I’m not crazy about the way you’re going at it,” Morden said, in a grumbling undertone.

“Wait a minute, Barney,” Duncan said. “We’re not getting anywhere with this. Suppose you keep out of it and let me handle it.”

“Just what is it you want to handle?” Moraine inquired, his voice showing a growing irritation.

“A great deal may depend upon the good faith of this Hartwell woman,” Duncan observed.

“Well?” Moraine asked.

“The federal authorities would like to talk with her some more, and my office would like very much to ask her some rather pertinent questions.”

“Why don’t you do it then?”

“Don’t you know, Sam?”

“No.”

“Honest?”

“Honest.”

“She’s disappeared.”

“Disappeared! You mean skipped out?”

“We don’t know.”

“Perhaps her husband can tell you something.”

“Her husband has disappeared.”

“The Bender woman?”

“She’s disappeared, too. We talked with her early this afternoon. Carl Thorne has talked with her. She’s either telling the truth, or she’s the most accomplished liar I’ve encountered since I’ve been in office. She swears that she has always been suspicious of Dr. Hartwell; that she thought he was mentally unbalanced; that Ann Hartwell had been working here in the city, and went to Saxonville to spend the week-end with her husband two weeks ago. She disappeared. Dr. Hartwell didn’t seem particularly concerned about it. Doris Bender knew that Ann Hartwell lived a most unhappy married life. When the girl didn’t show up, she got in touch with Carl Thorne, and through Carl Thorne, got in touch with my office. She had convinced herself Dr. Hartwell had murdered his wife. Then the ransom note came in, and you know what happened after that — that is, you know as much as we do, and perhaps more.”

“Why all the hullabaloo about her disappearance? Why the sudden desire to talk with her? You weren’t so worked up about it last night, and you had all day to talk with her if you’d wanted to.”

Barney Morden growled in an undertone, “Don’t spill anything.”

Duncan said slowly, “I can tell you this much, Sam. It’s entirely confidential. Ann Hartwell has been doing some work for Carl Thorne — very private work. I can’t even disclose to you the nature of that work. She took quite a bit of dictation in shorthand and transcribed it. Thorne, of course, was very particular to see that no copies were kept. In fact, Doris Bender acted as sort of a supervisor to make certain the work was done just the way Carl wanted it.”

“Well,” Moraine asked, “what about that?”

“Her shorthand notebooks,” Duncan said, significantly.

“What about them?”

“They were kept in Doris Bender’s apartment. Doris went to show them to Thorne to-day when Thorne asked if anything had been done about them. Thorne thought it would be a good plan to destroy those notebooks. When Doris Bender got the notebooks out and was going to burn them in her fireplace in her apartment, Thorne suddenly noticed the notebooks had the pages divided — that is, the shorthand operator had ruled a line down the center of each page, and written down each side of that line. That’s a device that shorthand operators frequently use. But that was a habit Ann Hartwell didn’t have. So Thorne started checking over the books. He found that they weren’t Ann Hartwell’s books. They were books that had been procured from some place, and substituted. No one seems to know anything about it.”

“Therefore, you’re investigating the kidnapping in order to see if it has anything to do with the shorthand books?”

“Therefore,” Duncan said, “to be perfectly frank with you, Sam, I’m very anxious indeed to get hold of Ann Hartwell before the federal authorities get hold of her. That’s why I don’t dare to work out of my office. That’s why Barney and I are here. We have every agency at our disposal, trying to trace that woman. They’re going to call us here just as soon as they find anything. We’re hoping we can beat the federals to it.”

“Why?”

“Because if she’s going to talk, we want to know just what it is she’s going to say.”

“You mean she might have been double-crossing Thorne?”