“He explained that to me; it was the Mariota Record Company. He was a creditor — in fact, he’s also a large stockholder. He thought there was something wrong with the company and he came here to investigate them... secretly. He didn’t want them to know, at the company, that he was here.”
“And it was he who had you go out with Seebright last night?”
Susan regarded Johnny steadily for a moment. Then she went to a chair and seated herself. “I knew Doug Esbenshade, in Iowa,” she said, “I knew him as my sister’s fiancé. I didn’t know him as a businessman and I didn’t know him as a jilted lover. That Doug Esbenshade I’ve just learned to know. He’s cold, he’s vindictive and cruel. The first Doug Esbenshade let my sister come to New York, so that she could do something with her voice. The same Doug invested a huge amount of money in a record company, to help Marjorie. He did it secretly, too, so she’d think she was succeeding in her own right. And then something happened; despite everything, Marjorie failed — she was turned down by the Mariota people—”
“Because of a man named Armstrong, who also loved her and was so vindictive when she threw him over that he wrecked Marjorie’s chances with Mariota...”
“It was Armstrong then who was responsible for turning Esbenshade against Marjorie. When he came here last week he heard about Armstrong and Marjorie. He believed the worst. As a result he destroyed the Mariota Record Company — and Charles Armstrong. And now he hates Marjorie’s memory so much that he won’t do for her the one little thing that would have made her life worthwhile...” Susan paused. “That’s why I made the deal with Orville Seebright last night.”
“You gave him the Con Carson record, so that he can go to his bank and get the money to pay off Esbenshade and get the Mariota Record Company out of bankruptcy...?”
Susan nodded.
“And in return, Seebright will give your sister fame — posthumous fame?”
Again Susan nodded. “Her voice was good. The recording was an excellent one... It’s going to be on the reverse side of the Con Carson record and everybody who plays the Carson record will hear Marjorie’s voice. I... it’s the least I could do for Marjorie. I somehow think she’ll... know...”
“Maybe,” said Johnny, softly, “maybe she will.” He hesitated. “Susan, I know who killed your sister...”
She looked at him steadily. “Doug...?”
He exhaled heavily and shook his head.
“Don’t tell me,” Susan said quickly. “I hate too many people now.”
“You’ll read about it in the papers tonight,” said Johnny and went out of Susan’s room.
He returned to Room 821 to find Sam Cragg fully dressed.
“All right,” Johnny said, “let’s go wash this up.”
Sam exclaimed, “You mean... you know who did it?”
“I’ve known since last night,” Johnny said. “Only I couldn’t prove it.” He scowled. “I still can’t.”
“Then how’re you going to pin it on the guy?”
“I’m going to make him admit it.”
They left the hotel and walked to Times Square. In front of the Times Building, a heavy-set man of about forty was standing reading the Want Ads in the Times. He looked like a substantial citizen, wore a rolled brim fedora and a nicely pressed dark blue suit.
Johnny walked up to him. “Like to make a fast twenty-five bucks, Mister?”
The man sized up Johnny across his opened newspaper. “Driving the getaway car?”
Johnny grinned. “Acting.”
“Not me,” said the man. “I get goose-pimples all over when I have to stand up in front of anyone.”
“You can do this sitting down — and the audience will be a small one. It’ll be all nice and private and it’ll take you an hour.”
“Mister,” said the man, “you’ve hired yourself an actor.”
Johnny signaled to a taxicab and the three of them climbed in. Johnny gave the cabdriver the address and then coached his actor in the lines he was to speak.
Chapter Twenty-three
They got out of the taxi in front of the Kamin Building and rode upstairs to the offices of the Mariota Record Company. The door was unlocked and seated behind the switchboard was Violet.
She shuddered when she saw Johnny and Sam.
“You two lads were in my nightmare,” she said.
“Violet,” said Johnny, “for a girl who had a nightmare and has a hangover, you look pretty good to me.”
“Here we go again!”
Johnny grinned. “Hear the good news? Mariota’s back in business.”
“Is that why Sir Orville looked so chipper this A.M.? He said good morning to me — and smiled, when he said it.”
“That’s it. And now — can we see him?”
“You can’t get killed for trying.” Violet winced. “Did I say killed?”
She put a plug into a hole and spoke into her mouthpiece. “Mr. Seebright, Mr. Fletcher is here to see you...” She grimaced and broke the connection.
“He says to tell you he can’t think of a thing he wants to talk to you about.”
“Tell him that I can think of something very important to tell him — the name of the man who killed Marjorie Fair...”
Violet stared at him. “You’re kidding!”
“Tell Seebright.”
“But do you really know?”
“Of course I know. I knew last night.”
“You didn’t act like you knew.”
Johnny smiled gently. “After Seebright, you’ll be the first to know, Violet. So...” He tried the door that led into the offices, but it was latched. Inside Violet pressed a button and the release catch clicked. Johnny opened the door.
“You’d better make him forget I let you in,” Violet cautioned.
“He won’t even think about it.”
Johnny started down the vacant main office, toward Seebright’s door. As he came to Armstrong’s office he saw that the door was open. Armstrong was inside, seated at his desk, his hands thrust in his pockets, looking gloomily at a print on the wall.
“Hi,” Johnny called.
Armstrong made no response and Johnny continued to Seebright’s office. He opened the door without knocking. Ed Farnham was in with Seebright, huddled in a huge leather chair, listening to Seebright lecturing him from behind his big desk. Joe Dorcas lounged on a leather couch.
“The bank...” Seebright was saying, then saw Johnny. He scowled. “Who let you in, Fletcher?”
“I did,” Johnny said. “The switchboard operator tried to keep me out, but I sneaked past her.”
“You can just sneak out again.”
“What’s happened between us, Orville? We were pals last night. Remember...?”
“Get out of here, Fletcher!” Dorcas said irascibly, “and take your friends with you.”
Johnny stood his ground. “You boys are pretty chipper today. You’re getting your loan from the bank and the old goose is hanging high.” He made a clucking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “And all because you got back one thin little phonograph record!”
Seebright’s mien changed. “Where’d you hear about that?”
“From the person who gave it to you.”
“All right,” said Seebright. “So she told you. Did she also tell you that she told me where she found the record?”
“Yep.”
Seebright glowered. “I’m satisfied, Fletcher. But don’t crowd me or the police are going to hear—”