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Authors: James Hadley Chase

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BOOK: 1945 - Blonde's Requiem
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Does he want his father to become mayor? I mean really want him to get the job?


I think so. I couldn

t say for sure.


This is a fantastic idea, but it hangs together,

I said excitedly.

Suppose Ted wanted to give his father a break with the election. If he could get Starkey out of the running, his father would stand a swell chance, wouldn

t he?

Reg said:

So what? You don

t mean he killed the girls so his father could become mayor? That

s just one hell of an idea.


I don

t mean that. Suppose Ted has a kink. Maybe he

s a religious fanatic. Maybe he

s a sex maniac. He could be anything. Suppose he sees a way to fix Starkey and at the same time satisfy his crazy repression.


But he hasn

t got a crazy repression,

Audrey said.

I know him too well.


Listen: if I had a crazy repression I wouldn

t tell you about it. I

d keep it to myself,

I said shortly.


Have you?

Reg asked, grinning.


Never mind that. Stick to Esslinger. Suppose he is a nut. You remember the Street-Camera Studio? He could have been the guy who tipped Dixon. Come to that, he could have been the guy who killed Dixon. No, it must have been Jeff, because Starkey wanted those pictures back.

I ran my fingers through my hair.


Hell! This is driving me screwy! But, wait a minute, it was Ted Esslinger who started the theory about the Street-Camera. He got me thinking that way. Suppose he decided to frame Starkey for the murders he was committing. All he has to do is to watch the Street-Camera window, and when an enlarged picture of a girl he knows appears he gets the girl to this empty house, strangles her and takes her to the funeral parlour. He collects the tickets from the girls and gets the photos from the Street-Camera. He tells Dixon that Starkey is using the Street-Camera Studio as a bait to kidnap the girls, putting Wolf and Esslinger out on a limb, as they have guaranteed to find the girls. Dixon doesn

t fall for this, so Ted comes to me and slips me the dope. Or doesn

t that make sense?

They stared at me blankly.


No, it

s too fantastic,

Audrey said at last.

I thought about it and decided she was right.

Well, it

s nearly right,

I said doubtfully.

I

ll bet you even money that Esslinger

s funeral parlour is mixed up in these murders.


You don

t know the other girls were murdered. Just because Marian was killed, it doesn

t mean

Reg began.


Now don

t go spoiling my theory,

I said.

It must work out the way I see it. It clicks. I

m sure it clicks. We

ll start work right now. The only way to get to the bottom of this is to dig and keep digging. I want you to go to the Street-Camera Studio and find out if Ted

s ever been there. Checkup that first. Try and find out who collected those photos of the three girls, Luce McArthur, Vera Dengate and Joy Kunz. Find that out and we

ll be getting places. Off you go.

Reg said:

Okay, I

ll see what I can turn up.

When he had gone, I said:

Look, babe, I want you to check up on Ted Esslinger. Find out where he was on the night of each of the disappearances. See if he has an alibi. Get friendly with the guy and stick close to him. See if he

s got any crazy ideas. Unless there

s something we

ve missed, there can only be one explanation: Ted

s crazy. Try and find out if he is.

Audrey nodded.

I

ll do it,

she said,

and what do you intend doing?


It

s time I went along and met Max Esslinger,

I said.

I want to look his funeral parlour over. Maybe I

ll get some ideas.

She picked up her gloves and bag.

You

ll like Max Esslinger,

she said.

I

ll swear he had nothing to do with this business, and you

ll think so, too, when you meet him.

I pulled her to me.

You haven

t got my nasty suspicious mind,

I said, and kissed her.

She pushed me away.

We

ve had enough of that to go on with,

she said severely.

Hands off.


Just a minute,

I said, taking her in my arms again.

Didn

t I say I was the senior partner? What I say goes.


All the time?

she asked, smiling at me.


All the time,

I returned.

The room was silent for a while.

 

chapter seven

 

I
stopped my car outside of a two-storey, grey stone building with a large display window, the upper portion of which was decorated with gold lettering, reading Cranville Mortuary. There was an oak coffin on trestles in the window and nearby was a large black and white check bowl containing stiff, wax-like lilies.

The glass-panelled door opened softly under my hand. The air of the purple-carpeted reception room smelt of embalming fluid, aromatic, sweet and sickening. I closed the door and glanced uneasily around. The imitation ebony coffin with ornate silver handles that stood against the opposite wall and the smell of death in the place gave me a spooky feeling.

At the back of the room was a black velvet curtain hanging from a brass rail.

It obviously hid a door. As I stood waiting, the curtain was drawn aside and a man appeared. He looked like something that had escaped from a freak show. His face was bloodless and his frame was as bony as a skeleton

s. Thin straw-coloured hair was oiled flat to his skull and his black, sunken eyes burned like hot coal.

He eyed me suspiciously and asked in a soft, timbreless voice if he could help me.

He looked so much like a ghoul that for a moment I could only stare at him.


Mr. Esslinger in?

I asked at last, pulling myself together with an effort.


Who shall I say wants him?

the man returned, motionless and forbidding.


Tell him an operative of the International Investigations would welcome a word with him,

I said, taking out a packet of Lucky Strike, but watching him closely.

He looked away from me, but not before I saw fear in his eyes.

I

ll tell him,

he said,

but he

s busy right now.


I

m in no hurry.

I flipped a match across the room.

Just tell him who wants him arid I

ll stick around.

He gave me a long, hard stare and then went away. I dragged down a lungful of smoke and waited. After a while I wandered over to the imitation ebony coffin and examined it. It was a nice job and I wondered vaguely if it would fit me. It seemed a little too narrow, although the length would take me all right. After I

d been over it for a few minutes and exhausted its interests I went over to a framed notice hanging on the wall giving prices of coffins and their various styles. I was surprised to find how cheaply you could be put underground.


You wanted to see me?

a voice asked softly behind me.

I didn

t jump more than a foot.

Max Esslinger was an older edition of his son. His face was more lined and his eyes more thoughtful than Ted

s but the likeness was remarkable.


Maybe you

ve heard of me,

I said.

I

ve been working for Wolf up to this morning.

He smiled and put out his hand.

Why, of course,

he said, in a pleasing baritone voice.

You

re the detective from New York, aren

t you? I

m glad to know you. Aren

t you working for Mr. Wolf anymore?

I shook hands, feeling a little blank.

We had a difference of opinion,

I said, with a grin,

and I quit.

Esslinger shook his head.

I

m afraid Wolf

s a difficult man to get along with. I

ve known him for a long time. Come into my office. We can talk there without being disturbed.

I followed him through the door which was hidden by the black velvet curtain, down a passage, past a couple of doors and into a pleasant, well-furnished room.

He waved me to an armchair and sat down behind a large flat-topped desk.


Now, Mr. Spewack, what can I do for you?

he asked, pulling open a drawer and taking out a box of cigars.

I shook my head.

Not for me,

I said, setting fire to my cigarette.

As I was saying, I quit working for Wolf this morning. I

m interested in this case, Mr. Esslinger, and I wonder if you

ve any objection if I worked with Miss Sheridan. It wouldn

t cost you anything. Wolf s taken care of the financial angle and he

s not getting his money back. I

d like to clear up this business before I returned to New York.

I was surprised to see his face brighten.

That would be generous of you, Mr. Spewack. I must confess I am very worried that nothing so far has been done. I am more than anxious to get the matter cleared up myself.

There was no doubt of his sincerity, and I remembered what Audrey had said about it not being possible for him to have had anything to do with the missing girls. There was something about Esslinger that more or less convinced me that she was right.


That

s fine,

I said.

Frankly, I was expecting some opposition from you. I heard you wanted Miss Sheridan to have a free hand.

He stared at me, puzzled.

Why, no,

he said.

Of course, when heard Wolf had engaged an expert and was hoping to make political capital out of this dreadful affair, I had to take similar steps. But I assure you, Mr. Spewack, I won

t rest until these girls have been found or their murder has been brought to justice.

I eyed him thoughtfully.

It

s murder,

I said slowly.

There can be no mistake about that.

I went on to tell him about Marian French.

He laid down his cigar when I had finished and I could see he was obviously shaken.

Who can be responsible for such a horrible crime?

he asked.

I can

t believe anyone in Cranville could deliberately murder innocent girls without any motive whatsoever. It

s unbelievable.


Maybe there is a motive,

I said, flicking ash on his nice pile carpet.

That

s something I

m going to work on. Either there

s a motive or the killer

s a homicidal lunatic—a sex killer.


You say this poor girl

s body has disappeared?

Esslinger asked.

But how could it? Where was it taken?

I shook my head.

I don

t know,

I said,

but that

s another thing I

m going to find out.

I paused, then shot out:

Why did you engage Audrey Sheridan in the first place? I understand no one in Cranville ever thought she

d crack this case?

Just for a moment I caught a look of caution in his eyes, but it had gone almost before I could register the fact.

I don

t think I quite understand what you mean,

he said; there was a cold note in his voice.


I think you do, Mr. Esslinger

I said.

Audrey Sheridan

s a nice kid. I like her. I like her a lot, but she hasn

t any experience in this game. I don

t mind telling you she gummed up a number of leads I was working on because she was so keen to crack this case by herself. But this kind of a case can

t be cracked by a woman. It

s too tough. Why did you hire her?

A faint flush had spread over his face. He picked up his cigar, examined it, found it had gone out, and lit it.

I was confident Miss Sheridan was capable of finding the missing girls,

he said at last.

You must remember, Mr. Spewack, that there was no question at that time that the girls had been murdered.

I eyed him and he looked away.

Baloney!

I said, curtly.

But if you don

t want to come clean, I can

t make you—


But I assure you—

he began.

I raised my hand.

Forget it,

I said.

When I first saw you I thought you were a straight guy. But now I

m not so sure. You had a reason for putting Audrey Sheridan on this case, and it wasn

t because you thought she could find the missing girls. There was some other reason. Maybe you didn

t want them found, and by hiring Audrey you knew damn well they wouldn

t be found!

He sat up.

How dare you say a thing like that!

he snapped angrily.


Audrey Sheridan

s the owner of the only detective agency in Cranville. It was only natural that I

d go to her.


Yeah?

I said, shaking my head.

There are plenty of agencies with big reputations not so far away who

d have been glad to handle this case. They wouldn

t have cost you much more than Audrey Sheridan and they

d have got a hell of a lot more results. I

m not satisfied, Mr. Esslingen.

He controlled himself with an effort and leaned back in his chair.

I think you

re exaggerating the position,

he said, with forced calm.

My conscience is clear that I

ve done the best with the means I had at my disposal. I

m more than willing that you should continue with the case, and if necessary I should be prepared to finance you.


Okay,

I said, stubbing out my cigarette.

I still think there

s something at the back of all this, but I

m going ahead. What chances do you think you have of becoming mayor?

He eyed me steadily. I could see he had his nerve back and he was now on his guard.

I don

t imagine I

ll have much trouble with Wolf,

he returned, pursing his lips.

He

s not popular in town, and now you have ceased to work for him I doubt if he

ll succeed in his plan to find the girls.


Is Macey likely to put up another candidate now Starkey

s out of the way?

He shrugged.

He might. I don

t know.


Who

s the skinny guy I met outside?

BOOK: 1945 - Blonde's Requiem
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