The D.A. Breaks an Egg

Brandon cocked a quizzical eyebrow at the district attorney. “Interesting,” he said.

“I’ll say! Now take a look at the rest of this stuff, Rex. Here’s a book of traveler’s checks issued in denominations of ten and twenty dollars. Now that’s strange.”

“Why?” Brandon asked. “That’s the way...”

“Sure, that’s the way most women in her position would travel,” Selby said, “but look at the wad of money she has. Something over sixteen hundred dollars in currency, and yet she has this book which now has... let’s see what was in it when it was issued.”

Selby counted through the traveler’s checks and the torn-off stubs, said, “It was originally issued for seven hundred and fifty dollars. The hundred-odd that’s been cashed could just about be her... Oh, oh, here’s something folded up very tightly. Looks like a telegram.”

Selby unfolded the telegram, said, “Get this, Rex,” and spread the yellow paper out on the desk.

The telegram, sent three days before, addressed to Daphne Arcola at Windrift, Montana, simply said, UNDER CIRCUMSTANCES WILL BE GLAD TO SEE YOU. SUGGEST YOU COME TO MADISON CITY, REGISTER IN MADISON HOTEL UNDER YOUR OWN NAME, AND THEN CONTACT.

“And the telegram is signed simply ‘ALPHABETICALLY SIMPLE.’ ” Brandon said, “and was sent from Los Angeles.”

The two men looked at each other.

“Well,” Selby said, “we have one trump card this time.”

“What’s that?”

“The man can’t commit bigamy,” Selby explained, grinning. “He can’t marry any more witnesses.”

Brandon grinned. “You have something there, Doug.”

“Let’s go down and look at the tires on that car and see if they check with the impressions we found there in the soil,” Selby said.

They walked down the stairs of the Courthouse and then out the back way to the parking lot in the rear which was usually reserved for county cars.

“Take a look for one with an out-of-state license,” Selby said. “A... here it is, two-door convertible. Let’s be a little casual about looking it over, Rex. We don’t want to attract a crowd of spectators.”

They walked around the car, giving careful attention to the tires.

“Well?” Selby asked.

“It’s the one,” Brandon said grimly.

“Well, let’s keep it to ourselves for the moment, Rex. We’ll have to impound the car, of course, but we can do it so it won’t attract attention — and I’m going to take that key, go back to Room 602 in the Madison Hotel and search that baggage some more. Now that I know what we’re up against, I’m going to feel my way.”

“Just what are we up against?” Brandon asked.

Selby said simply, “We’re up against Old A. B. C.”

8

Selby, walking down the sixth-floor corridor of the Madison Hotel, took from his pocket the key to Room 602, inserted it in the spring lock, clicked back the bolt, stepped into the hotel room and closed the door behind him.

The room was dark, the windows closed. Only a relatively small amount of diffused daylight filtered through the drawn shades into the room.

Selby noticed at once that there had been several changes in the room since he and Brandon had left it, changes which he presumed were due to an invasion by Otto Larkin, the officious chief of the Madison City police.

The suitcase had been unpacked and the garments spread over the back and across the arms of a chair. Bottles and jars had been placed on the dressing table.

Selby frowned irritably. He had wanted to study the way that suitcase had been packed. He felt that he might get a clue to...

Something sounded unmistakably like the creaking of a bedspring.

Selby whirled, noticing even in the dim light that, the bed was no longer neatly smoothed down with the counterpane in place and...

With a quick, explosive motion, the covers were thrown back. A young woman, clad in sheer gossamer silk, gave Selby a glimpse of long white legs as she flung herself out of bed to the floor, stood for a moment with the silken nightgown falling about her. Suddenly as realization of Selby’s presence gripped her, she reached for a robe which was thrown across the bottom of the bed. Then, evidently thinking better of it, she jumped back into the bed and pulled the covers up close to her chin. “What are you doing here?” she demanded angrily. “How dare you enter my room!”

Selby stood, wordless in surprise.

“Why you... you thief... you Peeping Tom... you...!”

“Just a moment,” Selby said. “I...”

“Yes, you what?”

“I... Who are you?”

“I like that,” she said, reaching for the telephone. “I’ll show you who I am. I...”

“Wait,” Selby said. “I’m the district attorney of this county. I’m investigating a murder, and...”

“A murder — what are you talking about?”

“The occupant of this room,” Selby said, “was murdered. The hotel had absolutely no right to rent this room again until it was released by the police. I’m the district attorney of this county, and I...”

“Who was murdered?”

“The occupant of the room.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“It’s news to me,” she said. “So you’re the district attorney.”

“Yes.”

“Switch on that light,” she said. “Let’s have a look at you.”