“Yes, sir.”
Joe Dietz was hanging around in the lobby below and Hillman was able to produce him in a few minutes. An under-sized young fellow with a mean expression; sharp eyes darting in every direction. “Where is he?” he asked.
Lee ignored the question. Hillman had his ears stretched, and Lee sent him into the studio to tidy it up. To Joe he said: “Miss Dordress was the last of the guests to leave last night, and after that Hillman went home?”
“That’s right, sir. Do you suspect that the boss was murdered?” he asked, licking his lips.
“No,” said Lee. “Mr. Dordress killed himself. I am merely trying to establish a motive. Keep your mouth shut and I’ll see that you are taken care of.”
“Yes, sir. You can depend upon me, sir,” said Joe fawningly.
“After Miss Dordress went home, how long was it before Hillman left?”
“I couldn’t tell you exactly, sir.”
“Well was it a long time or a short time?”
“Shortish.”
“An hour?”
“Not so long.”
“Half an hour?”
“Maybe. I didn’t take no particular notice.”
Lee was unable to pin him down. He couldn’t tell whether the boy was trying to throw suspicion on Hillman, or was withholding the vital answer to increase his own importance. Lee let it go for the moment. “After Hillman had gone home did you take anybody else up to Mr. Dordress’ apartment?”
“No, sir.”
“What were you doing at the time?”
“I took a sleep, sir.”
“Where?”
“On the bench in the elevator. I left the door open.”
“Where are the stairs in this building?”
“They run up in a fireproof shaft alongside the elevator.”
“Is there a door to the stairs in the foyer?”
“Yes, sir. Right beside the elevator.”
“While you were sleeping couldn’t somebody have come up the stairs?”
“No, sir. The door’s locked. It’s a spring lock. If there was a fire and the tenants run down the stairs they could open the door from the inside. But on the outside you have to have a key.”
“How did Hillman look when he came to work this morning? Distressed? Excited?”
“No, sir. He looked the same as usual.”
“Joe,” said Lee very casually, “did you come up here to Mr. Dordress’ flat last night after Hillman had gone?”
Joe became very excited. “No, sir! No, sir I What for would I come up here so late? I swear I never saw Mr. Dordress last night. May God strike me dead if I ain’t telling the truth!”
“Leave God out of it,” said Lee dryly. He felt that the boy was lying somewhere.
“Mr. Mappin, can I see him?” asked Joe with unpleasant eagerness. “No,” said Lee.
After the boy had gone Lee called up Stan Oberry. Stan operated a small, high-class detective agency, and Lee was accustomed to calling on him for assistance. “Stan,” he said, “there are two men that I want tailed. The first is Joe Dietz, an elevator boy at— Madison Avenue. He’s hanging around the lobby of the house off duty, if you can send a man over. Joe is the rat-faced one. The other man is George Hillman, Mr. Dordress’ servant. He’ll be busy in the house all day. While waiting for him, your man might go up to 729 Calhoun Street, the Bronx, where he lives, and pick up all he can about Hillman’s family, his recent movements, and his habits generally.”
“Okay, Lee.”
THE bell rang. When Hillman opened the door, the tall figure of Siebert Ackroyd entered quickly. Siebert was terribly upset. “Is Miss Dordress here?” he demanded of Hillman.
“I’ll see, Sir.”
“For God’s sake, tell me plainly, is she here or isn’t she?”
“I don’t know if she can see anybody, sir.”
“Well, go tell her I’m here.”
Lee Mappin, hearing the voices, came out of the studio. He greeted Siebert coolly, and Siebert, observing it, stiffened. Lee said to Hillman: “Wait a moment.”
“Are you giving the orders here?” said Siebert angrily.
“So it would appear,” said Lee.
“By whose authority?”
“Cynthia’s.”
“And are you going to prevent me from seeing her?”
“Not at all. I merely wanted to have a few words with you first. Come in here.” He led Siebert into the gunroom out of the hearing of Hillman.
Siebert made an effort to overcome his angry manner. “Mr. Mappin, this is a terrible blow to me,” he said. “Please overlook it if I .. if I …”
“Sure,” said Lee equably. “… It is more terrible even than it appears, Siebert … I have reason to believe that Gavin did not kill himself.”
“What!” cried Siebert. “You mean you think “-his voice sunk-“murdered?”
“It is possible,” said Lee. “I know I can rely on you to say nothing.”
“But how? . . how?” stammered Siebert.
“I don’t know. What did you do when you left here last night?”
Siebert’s face flamed with anger. “By God!’ are you suggesting that I …!”
Lee betrayed impatience. “That’s a foolish answer, Siebert. I am ‘suggesting’ nothing. I don’t know what happened. I haven’t any theory as yet. It’s my duty to follow up every line wherever it may lead. Where did you go last night?”
“I don’t have to answer you,” muttered Siebert.
“Of course not. But a refusal to answer leads to a certain inference …”
A blank look come into Siebert’s face. “I can tell you where I went,” he said slowly. “But I have no corroboration of it.”
“Well, tell me anyhow.”
“I walked the streets,” said Siebert bleakly. “I was all upset. I had quarrelled with Cynthia.”
“I know that,” said Lee.
This made Siebert freshly angry. “So she tells you all about me, eh?”
“What streets?” asked Lee.
“I couldn’t tell you. I went over on the East side because I didn’t want to meet anybody. I went into different bars and drank. I couldn’t point them out to you.”
“What time did you get home?”
“I don’t know. It was after two. They could tell you at the Allingham, where I live.”
Lee nodded. “I’ll tell Cynthia you’re here,” he said.
He found the two girls in the guest-room. Cynthia, with a quiet white face, was dictating the necessary family letters to Fanny. Lee said: “Siebert is here.”
Cynthia sprang up. A little colour came into her face. “You want to see him, then?”
“Siebert? Why of course!”
Lee took her hand. “My dear!” he said gravely.
“What is it, Lee?” she asked, anxiously searching his face.
“Keep a firm grip on yourself!”
Cynthia was very quick of apprehension. Every vestige of colour drained out of her face. “Lee . . you don’t suspect that Siebert could have …?”
“I don’t suspect him.” he said. “I have no evidence. But he could have done it.”
“O, no! no!” she whispered. “Not Siebert! I couldn’t bear it. Lee!”
“My dear,” he said. “I believe you are brave enough to face anything.”
Cynthia went quickly to the sunroom. Lee waited for her in the foyer. When Siebert saw Cynthia coming, his angry, virile face turned imploring and his hands went out to her. “Cynthia!”
She stopped short of him. He took a step towards her, but she fended him off. “Has Mappin put that ugly suspicion into your mind?” he demanded. “Have you turned against me?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think there’s anything in it.”
“If I could only tell you how I felt when I heard what had happened!” he said brokenly. “I mean, because I was angry at Gavin last night and spoke against him. God help me! I felt as if it was my fault somehow. My rage was only
a flash in the pan, Cyn. I was sore because you kept me at arm’s length. I had nothing against Gavin, really. Nobody knows better than me what a fine man he was!”
“Thank you, Siebert,” she whispered.
His arms went out again. “Cynthia!”
She shook her head. “I can’t! I am all empty inside … I have no feeling for anything or anybody now . . except him… . Thank you for coming, Siebert.”
He turned from her and strode out of the apartment without looking at Lee. “He acted badly,” Cynthia murmured to Lee; “he got angry. But that doesn’t mean anything. Whenever Siebert is distressed or upset he flies in a temper and lashes out at whoever may be around him. It’s just a boyish trick.”
“Very likely,” said Lee.
“Lee, it couldn’t have been Siebert!” she murmured, searching his eyes for confirmation.
He pressed her hand. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I neither believe nor disbelieve. I hope you’re right. I’m waiting for evidence.”
“Then find it!” she cried. “Find it quickly! I must know the truth or I’ll go out of my mind!”
“Do you know Alan Talbert?” asked Lee.
“I’ve met him; a handsome young man, a playwright, a great admirer of Dad’s. Dad spoke of him as rather a silly fellow, but likeable.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all I know.”
AFTER Cynthia had been given an opportunity to be with her father, Gavin’s body was removed to a funeral establishment. Lee received the reporters again, and answered their questions as far as he thought proper. Lee was an old hand in dealing with the press, and notwithstanding the reporters’ cleverness, they were unable to extract an admission from him that there was anything unexplained about the death of Gavin Dordress. By this time the news was all over town, and a long procession of callers began; Gavin’s admirers, actors who had appeared in his plays, playwrights he had encouraged. None of the other guests at dinner the night before called or phoned, and Lee set out in search of them.
First to the Townley Theatre where Mack maintained a luxurious suite of offices. The outer room, where a line of playwrights and actors was usually waiting, was empty now. Lee was told that Mr. Townley had telephoned he would not come to the office. Lee could not go behind that, though the frightened faces of elevator boy, receptionist and secretary suggested that Mack was in fact in the building, probably in one of the unbridled rages for which he was known. Lee left a note for him, and proceeded to the Townley apartment on Park Avenue. Here a wooden-faced manservant told him that Mr. Townley had gone to his office. “There’s a lack of team-work,” said Lee dryly. “Is Mrs. Townley in?”
“No, sir.”
“Can you tell me where she may be found?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“When will she return?”
“She didn’t say, sir.”
While Lee was talking to the man a trunk was carried across the foyer and out through a service door. “Has Mrs. Townley left the city?” he asked at a venture.
“Well, yes, sir,” admitted the servant.
“Why didn’t you say so at once? Where has she gone?”
“I have not been informed, sir.”
Lee could get no more out of him. Nor were the hallmen any more communicative. From a booth in a drugstore he called Stan Oberry again. “Stan, I have been informed that Bea Ellerman, that is, Mrs. Mack Townley, has left town. Find out for me where she’s gone. In the case of so prominent a person it ought not to be difficult. If you have a discreet man on call, let him try to find out what led to this sudden departure. A woman might get it better.”
“Okay, Lee.”
Then to the Hotel Conradi-Windermere where Gail Garrett leased an apartment. Lee did not send up his name but proceeded directly to Gail’s quarters in the tower. The door was opened by Gail’s own maid, Catherine, who was known to Lee. The elderly woman was pale and shaken. Lee made believe not to notice anything out of the way. “Good morning, Catherine. I’d like to see Miss Garrett for a moment.”
“She’s not in,” muttered Catherine.
Lee could hear Gail’s voice behind the closed door of the living-room. He pushed past Catherine. After all, he had known Gail Garrett for fifteen years.
“It won’t do you no good!” complained Catherine. “She won’t see you. She won’t see nobody!”
“She is seeing somebody now,” said Lee.
“It’s Mr. Bittner from the theatre.”
Lee seated himself in the foyer. “I will wait until she is free.”
Catherine, wringing her hands together, went away through a service door.
Lee heard the rumble of a man’s voice behind the living-room door. The words were indistinguishable. Then Gail’s voice, shrill and strident: “I don’t care! I won’t appear. I won’t! I won’t! I won’t, do you hear? All right, put a notice in the paper; return the money. Don’t you think I have any feelings?”
Another rumble. “Get out!” screamed Gail with a startling addition of profanity. “You’re driving me mad! Get out! Get out, you fool! Close the show. I will never act again! Never! Never! I’m through!”
Little Solon Bittner, Gail Garrett’s producer, came out of the living-room very red in the face. The door slammed behind him. The two men nodded to each other; Bittner said to Lee with a desperate air: “She refuses to go on to-night. She wants me to close the show. You are her friend. Try to get her to listen to reason.”
“Give her a little time, Bittner,” said Lee. “She’s had a terrible shock.”
“But if Miss Garrett is unable to go on because Gavin Dordress shoots himself, it will make a scandal. It will injure her.”
Lee shrugged.
The little man went on out waving his hands.
Lee knocked on the living-room door. “Gail, it’s me. Lee Mappin.”
“Go away!” answered a strangled voice.
“Sorry, I have to talk to you. It’s imperative.”
“Go away!”
Lee opened the door and walked in. The great beautiful room decorated in the style of Louis Seize by a master, was all in disorder. One of the gilt chairs was overthrown; clothes, pillows, torn papers were scattered about. Gail, wearing an elaborate negligee, sat crouched in a chair bent almost double as if in physical pain. In her hands she had a handkerchief that she was slowly tearing into shreds. Her face was ravaged-by grief, rage, fear; it was impossible to tell which; perhaps all three. She looked terrible and she didn’t care. “Get out!” she said sullenly, with scarcely a glance at Lee. “I told you not to come in. Have I no privacy in my own home? Can’t I ever be left alone?”
“I’m sorry,” said Lee, “but you must listen to me for a few moments.” He sat down.
She sprang up in a rage. “Must? Must? I’m not accustomed to that sort of talk and I’m not going to take it from you! Leave my rooms or I’ll telephone to the office and have you put out!”
Lee faced her out. “You’re only making a show of yourself,” he said calmly. “If you will stop to think, you must realise that I have always been your friend, that I was Gavin’s friend …”
She heard only one word of this. Clapping her hands to her head she began to pace the long room with uneven steps. She had neglected to fasten the negligee around her, and it streamed open revealing her nightdress. “Gavin! Gavin! Gavin!” she wailed. “He’s gone! Nothing can bring him back to me. I shall never touch his hand again, nor hear the sound of his dear voice! I cannot bear it! I will not bear it!”
Lee waited with a slightly cynical air for her to exhaust herself. She turned on him suddenly. “You sit there as calmly as if you had come to tea!” she cried. “You feel nothing! You are inhuman!”
“What I feel or do not feel has nothing to do with it,” said Lee. “I have work to do. There is reason to believe that Gavin did not kill himself.”
He noted that she was not surprised. She resumed her pacing. “What difference does it make?”
she mourned. “He is gone and nothing can bring him, back to me.”
“Last night you were overheard to threaten his life,” said Lee.
That arrested her attention. She stopped, staring at him wildly, pressing her face between her hands. “Overheard? By whom?”
“One of the waiters hired for the evening.”
Gail sneered. “It’s a lie! He can’t prove it!”
“He can testify to it.”
“Nobody would believe a waiter!”
“Unfortunately there were other unpleasant incidents. The scene when you left.”
“Who would dare to accuse me?” she demanded.
“My dear,” said Lee dryly, “nobody is safe from an accusation.”
She was intimidated by the quiet voice. She said, taking a lower tone: “Would you accuse me of such a thing, Lee?”
He met her eyes squarely. “Certainly, if I had evidence that it was true.”
She became more conciliatory. “But Lee, everybody knows what an angry woman is. She makes terrible threats without meaning a word of it. You know I loved Gavin. I am shattered by his loss!” Lee said nothing. “What did you come here for?” she asked sharply.
“To get you to tell me the truth as far as you know it. … What did you do when you left Gavin’s last night?”
“I came home.”
“Right away?”
“Just as quick as a taxi could bring me.”
“Did you enter the hotel through the lobby?”
“I never use the lobby. I came in the private entrance for the tower apartments.”
“There are two elevators,” said Lee. “Which one did you use? Right or left as you face them?”
Gail’s lip curled. “I suppose you are going to verify my statements by questioning the elevator boys.”
“Surely.”
“All right. I came up in the left-hand elevator. And it was operated by the one they call Vincent, one of the older employees. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“Thank you,” said Lee. “Did you go out again later?”
Gail bit her lip, hesitated, blurted out: “No!” Immediately she added: “I suppose you’ll question the boys about that, too.”
“Naturally.”
“All right,” she said defiantly. “I’ll save you the trouble. I did go out again.”
“Where did you go?”
ALM02 The Death of a Celebrity Page 6