The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“But what in the world would he have been doing meeting Moana Lennox?”

“That,” Selby said, “could be the pay-off, Rex.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grannis couldn’t pay Carr enough money to compensate old A. B. C. for representing him. But perhaps he could do something for old A. B. C. that would help Carr make money from another client.”

“But why should Moana be... gosh, Doug, you don’t think she could have...” Brandon let the sentence remain unfinished.

Selby said, “I don’t want to jump at conclusions, Rex, but something important happened last night and Grannis talked with someone whom he doesn’t dare mention... Let’s just start checking up on where certain people were last night.”

Brandon grinned, pushed his foot down on the throttle. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Doug. It sounds like a darn good theory.”

“It isn’t a theory,” Selby said, “only a hunch.”

“Far as I can see it’s a darn good hunch, Doug. I bet it pays off.”

Selby said, “It’s the way Carr would do the thing.”

“Wish we could beat him at his own game,” Brandon said. “Wouldn’t we be justified in using fire to fight the devil with, Doug?”

Selby shook his head. “Our hands are tied, Rex. As representatives of the law we have only two weapons we can use — brains and two-fisted honesty.”

“Honesty can’t stand up to the sort of ingenious trickery old A. B. C. uses,” Rex Brandon said bitterly. “He thinks nothing of bribery and...”

“I said Two-Fisted Honesty,” Selby reminded the sheriff. Brandon thought that over for a moment, then grinned. “I gotcha now, Doug.”

19

Horace Lennox, his face drawn, and with deeply etched lines at the corners of his mouth, entered the sheriff’s office, and said, “You sent for me, sir?”

“Yes, Horace. Doug Selby and I want to talk with you for a minute.”

“Yes, sir. What about?”

“It’s about your sister, Moana.”

Horace raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve decided to stand up for Dorothy Clifton on this thing?”

“Naturally.”

Brandon said, in a kindly voice, “Horace, it gets back to what happened the night this girl was murdered. Dorothy says that someone took her car.”

Horace nodded.

“I’m afraid your mother thinks that’s merely something Dorothy made up,” Selby said.

“I’m afraid so.”

“But you know, and I know that someone must have taken her car.”

Horace nodded.

“Could it have been Moana?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Moana’s secretive. She likes to play ’em close to her chest, but she wouldn’t have done a thing like that. If she’d taken the car, she’d have come forward and said so.”

“Did you see her when you got home last night?”

“No.”

“But you have talked with her?” Brandon asked, glancing significantly at Selby.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Where was she when you arrived home last night? Asleep?”

“She wasn’t home. She’d gone up to see her closest friend who lives at Santa Barbara. Poor kid. I guess she was pretty much upset with all the publicity, and so forth. The Lennox clan isn’t accustomed to... well, to seeing its name in the paper, particularly in this connection.”

“So she went up to see her friend?”

“Yes.”

“Who is this friend?”

“Mrs. Jordon L. Kerry, Connie — short for Constance. She and Moana were inseparable before Connie married.”

“You talked with Moana after she came home?”

“Yes. She’s a good kid. She likes Dorothy. I think she’s pretty thoroughly convinced that no matter what else happened, Dorothy must be innocent. But what with the loss of that jewelry and the shock of having someone break into the house and all that... well, the kid’s pretty much upset.”

“And you don’t think she took Dorothy’s car?”

“I don’t think she took the car. But I do think it could have been one of the servants. I’m not eliminating them from the picture until I’ve done a lot more investigating. And then there’s... there’s one other possibility.”

“What’s that?”

Horace hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t think I care to discuss it.”

Brandon looked at Selby, then started drumming on the desk. “Okay, Horace,” he said at length. “Thanks a lot for your help. I was just trying to check up on things.”

“What’s happening with — with the case?”

“Oh, lots of developments,” Brandon said. “Nothing that’s really determinative, but we’re keeping after it.”

“You’ll let me know?” Horace asked with sharp anxiety in his voice.

“Sure, sure,” Brandon said reassuringly.

When Horace had left, Brandon pulled the telephone book toward him, started looking down the list, then said, “Here’s the number at Santa Barbara. Let’s call.”

He put in a person-to-person call. “The sheriff’s office,” he said, “I want to talk with Mrs. Jordon L. Kerry at Santa Barbara. Rush the call through, will you? It’s something of an emergency.”