Black Mask (Vol. 29, No. 3 — January 1947)

“They probably moved on to some other apartment,” I guessed. “It’s only two o’clock now, and that would be the mere shank of the evening for that gang. But let’s look in the bedrooms just for luck — maybe somebody’s passed out in there.”

There were three bedrooms, and the first two were vacant The girl lay stretched out on the bed in the third one, and she looked dead to the world. Which is exactly what she was, for somebody had shot her under her left eye.

Shelton froze in the doorway, though he has seen much more death than I have. The difference was that I’m accustomed to seeing it in unexpected places, and Shelton wasn’t.

I went over to the girl, looked down at the ugly little wound and said: “The dirty skunk. From the powder marks it looks as if the guy held the gun about a foot from her face and let her have it. He must have been shooting at her eye. The only reason he didn’t hit it was either because he was a bad shot or under the influence. Come over here, Shellie, and get a look at this babe. Ever see her before?”

Shelton came diffidently over as if invading the privacy of an undressed woman, though this girl was fully clothed. Her dress had been drawn up to the tops of her nylons, which gave me the idea she had been lifted onto the bed. Another thing that gave me the same idea was the bruise on her chin. It seemed pretty plain that her killer had clipped her first, carried her to the bed and let her have it.

“No,” said Shelton. “I never saw her before. Have you?”

“Yes. She was the girl who was so friendly with Phil Sutton tonight.”

It was the blonde, all right, the plump blonde that Sutton had evidently come here to meet. I turned to Shelton and said: “Look around for a cartridge case. It’ll be either a .22 or a .25.”

It was a small wound. While Shelton looked I took the girl by her hair and turned her head. The slug hadn’t gone out the back, which convinced me that it was indeed of small caliber. A moment later Shelton said he’d found it, and I turned about.

The little brass case lay in a corner. I went over, got down on my knees and looked at it Without picking it up. It was a .22 Long Rifle with the U indentation which the Remington people put on such cartridges. There was also the indentation of an extractor bar, visible in bad light and to the naked eye. There was a good chance that the cartridge case could be used to identify the killer’s gun — if the killer Was ever found.

“Hadn’t we better call the city police?” Shelton asked.

I got up and shook my head.

“Not unless you want to quit your job with Keever. If I’m ever connected with this girl’s murder, Keever might as well go to China. Don’t you get the idea, Shellie? She was Sutton’s girl. Sutton’s bound to make the headlines. If I, as Keever’s chief investigator, make the headlines with him, it will be too much on top of the bribery charge already filed. Everybody in the state will be convinced that Sutton and Keever are thick as thieves.”

“But what are we going to do?”

“Get out of here. But first I want you to look into all the bureau drawers of the other bedrooms, along with the closets. Tell me what you find there.”

Shelton left, and I gave the room the once-over. I couldn’t find a thing. The girl’s handbag was missing, and I didn’t even have an idea as to who she was. When Shelton came back he looked puzzled.

“I don’t know what kind of person this George Cranston could be — or anyone else who’d live here. There isn’t a thing in those rooms. Every drawer is bare.”

I nodded. “This room’s the same way. So that can mean only one thing. George Cranston is a phony name used by somebody who’s rented this apartment solely for the purpose of giving such parties as the one thrown here tonight. Nobody lives here at all!”

Shelton looked dubious. “Maybe Cranston moved everything out — like those bottles.”

“Nix. The bottles were carried out by the guests in their inside pockets. It was the guests who washed the glasses. They were liquored up enough to think they were doing something real cute, getting rid of fingerprints like that. There must have been a hell of a busy time around here after somebody found this dead girl.”

Shelton frowned. “You haven’t told me much about what happened at the party. Where was Sutton by then?”

“He’d gone when I left. That is, I’m sure he wasn’t in a bedroom, especially this one. My hunch is he was the first to discover the body and he got out as fast as he could.”

Shelton mused: “I wonder where he could have gone?”

“Where does any man go when he gets into bad trouble?”

“To see his lawyer. But would Sutton go to Price? Price made an incriminating statement to the D.A. about that check.”