“It’s wonderful,” she said. “They’re — they’re believable. They’re true. They somehow symbolize life.”
“I’m glad you like them. Want to see the darkroom now?”
“I’d love to.”
“Let’s take a look at those films, Peggy.”
She handed him the envelope. He brushed the prints aside and studied the negatives.
“Well,” he said, “the girl used an expensive camera.”
“How do you know without seeing it?”
“You can tell by the films,” he said. “The films are wire sharp. That means she had a coupled range finder and a high-grade lens. That’s why I like to look at negatives instead of prints. The negatives tell the story. Lots of times a cheaper lens will give you a warm black that makes the print seem all right, but the minute you start to blow it up it fuzzes out on you. We’ll make some enlargements right away.”
“Where’s the darkroom?” she asked.
He laughed. “This is a bachelor apartment. There was a big pantry off the kitchen, a lot bigger than I needed, so I made it lightproof, installed running water, and fixed up a darkroom. Come on in and I’ll show you my workshop.”
He led the way into the darkroom and showed Peggy the two enlarging cameras. One of them used what he called “cold light,” and the other used condensers for sharpness of detail.
Kimberly poured chemicals into stainless-steel trays. “We’ll have these pictures enlarged in a jiffy. Why so thoughtful, Peggy?”
“Because I want to ask you something that’s probably none of my business.”
“What?”
“You know of Stella’s condition?”
“Yes.”
“Were you—” she asked, “that is — were you—”
“You mean am I the man in the case?”
“Yes.”
“No.” He was silent for a few moments. Then he added, “I’ve known Stella for years. She was working in a cafeteria when I first knew her. She was a good-natured, lovable kid. I saw her a few times. Then someone put me on a committee to pick the queen of some local festivities. There was a lineup of a lot of girls in bathing suits, and to my surprise I saw Stella Lynn in the lineup.
“I don’t think the fact that I knew her influenced my judgment. Anyway, I voted for her, and so did the other two judges. She was elected queen of the outfit. That was three years ago. She’s put on weight since then, but at that time — well, she bad a good figure.”
“Go ahead,” Peggy said, then added, “that is, if you want to.”
“I want to. I want you to know what the situation was. Stella rang me up to thank me for voting for her, and I congratulated her on winning the contest on sheer merit. Then I lost track of her for a while. Then she rang up again and said she wanted to get away from the small town, wanted to go to the city. I gathered there had been a heartbreak.”
“That’s the part I wanted to know about,” Peggy said.
“Why?”
"Because I’m trying to reconstruct Stella’s life.”
“Actually,” Don Kimberly said, “I don’t know too much about her background, Peggy. Do you believe that?”
“Of course.”
“There are some who won’t,” he said thoughtfully. “However, to get back to your question. She was in love with someone. I don’t know who he was, but I have an idea he was a no-good. Stella wanted to get out of town. She was pretty well broken up, and she was broke financially. I had to lend her money to clean up a few bills she had around Cofferville and help her get started on a new job. I had no idea her new job was in our company until I met her there.”
“E. B. Halsey fixed that up for her,” she said.
“I know. E. B. knew her dad in Cofferville. He’s been dead some five years, but E. B. knew him and liked him.”
“And knew her?”
“Apparently.”
“How well?”
“I don’t know. Stella never talked about her friends. I’ve been trying to contact E. B. He isn’t available.”
“I know. This money you lent her, Don — did she pay it back?”
“Yes. Why?”
“She needed a lump sum. You gave her a check?”
“Yes.”
“But when she paid you back it must have been just a little here and a little there in cash.”
“It was.”
“Then she didn’t have anything to show that she paid you?”
“Are you suggesting I’d try to make her pay twice?”
“I’m thinking of the way the police will look at it,” she said. “The banks keep records on microfilm of all checks that pass through their hands.”
“I know,” he said curtly, and she could tell that he was worried.
The doorbell rang sharply, insistently.
Kimberly looked at her in dismay. “I was hoping we could have a chance to get together on a story before — I’ll have to answer it, Peggy, particularly since you’re here.”
He led the way out of the darkroom and opened the front door.
Detective Fred Nelson and a young woman stood at the door. “Hello, Kimberly,” Nelson said easily. “This is Frances Bushnell — in case that means anything to you.”
Don Kimberly, without inviting them in, said, “How do you do, Miss Bushnell.”
“It’s Mrs. Bushnell,” Nelson said. “We’re coming in, Kimberly.” He pushed past Kimberly, saw Peggy, and said, “Well, well, it seems the gang’s all here. Sit down, folks.”
“Since you’re playing the part of host,” Kimberly said coldly, “perhaps you’d like to mix some drinks?”
“Now, keep your shirt on,” Nelson told him. “This is business. I’m going to be brief. Mrs. Bushnell was a close friend of Stella Lynn’s. She and her husband and Stella’s boy friend used to go out on foursomes. Tell them about those foursomes, Frances.”
Frances Bushnell seemed ill at ease.
“Go on,” Nelson said, “get it off your chest. Don’t pull any punches. We may as well find out where we stand now as later.”
“Well,” Mrs. Bushnell said, and paused to clear her throat as though not quite certain of herself. “Pete, that was my husband — he still is — and Stella, and Bill Everett—”
“Now, who is Bill Everett?” Nelson interrupted.
“That was Stella’s boy friend.”
“And when was this?”
“When she was in Cofferville, working in the cafeteria as cashier.”
“All right, go ahead.”
“Well, Pete and I and Stella and Bill used to go out on weekends together. We were all friends. Pete and I got married. I got to know Stella quite well.”
“What about this Bill guy?” Nelson asked.
“He turned out to be no good. I think he got into some trouble somewhere. I know it broke Stella’s heart. I think she was really fond of him.”
“How long ago was this?”
“About two years ago.”
“Then what?”
“Pete and I got married and came here to live. When Stella came she looked us up. I still kept in touch with her.”
“Now, when was the last time you saw her?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Where?”
“In a cocktail bar on Fifth Street.”
“You just happened to run into her, or did you have an appointment, or what?”
“It’s a sort of gathering place. Some of us girls who work in offices drop in for a little chat and a cocktail. Stella was there.”
“What did she say?”
“Well, we talked for a while about this and that and I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me and she said no, that she had a dinner date with a Prince Charming who was taking her to a night spot — that she had something to tell him that was going to jolt him.”