“Well, where was Doris Bender?” Moraine asked.
“We don’t know.”
“It might be a good plan to find out. You say that you think Wickes has an alibi?”
“Yes, he was in touch with the officers. Apparently, he was much concerned over the fact that everyone had skipped out of Doris Bender’s apartment.”
“Then you don’t think Ann Hartwell was thrown from the ten forty-seven train?”
“She may have been, but I doubt it. It’s almost certain that the same person who killed her killed Pete Dixon. He waylaid Ann Hartwell in front of Dixon’s house and killed her. Then he went in and killed Dixon.”
Moraine frowned thoughtfully and said, “You’re certain of your time, Phil?”
“Absolutely certain. The tests we have made with the candle fix the time within less than fifteen minutes either way, allowing for every possible variation. Tests which we have made indicate the shots would most certainly have been heard if they hadn’t been fired just when a train was going by. Now, then, Sam, what I want to know is, where was Natalie Rice when the ten forty-seven train went past Pete Dixon’s house?”
Sam Moraine stared at Phil Duncan with eyes that were filled with reproach.
“Phil!” he exclaimed. “You really don’t mean to insinuate that Natalie Rice might have been implicated in the murder!”
Duncan sighed wearily.
“I’ve played too damn much poker with you, Sam,” he said. “I can tell when you’re trying to put over a fast one. You always start putting the other man on the defensive. Whenever you’re trying to win a jack pot with nothing higher than a pair of fives, you start panning my office about something, and I get so busy trying to explain where you’re wrong that you’ve stolen a pot before I know it.”
Moraine laughed, and said, “Well, the moral of that is, don’t play poker with a district attorney if you’re going to commit murder later on.”
“The moral of that,” Phil Duncan rejoined, “is that you still haven’t answered my question.”
“All right, let me ask you a question or two. Where was Doris Bender when that train went through?”
“I don’t know,” Duncan said frankly, “but that doesn’t answer the question of where Natalie Rice was.”
“Where was Dr. Hartwell?”
“There’s no question about where Dr. Hartwell was. He was being socked on the chin by Barney Morden.”
“Not when the train went through.”
“Well, within two minutes of that time, and, if you can get from Sixth and Maplehurst to your office in two minutes, you’re a wonder.”
“Where was Tommy Wickes — Doris Bender’s boyfriend?”
Duncan’s eyes showed a trace of interest.
“Well,” he said, “let’s check up on Wickes. Wickes showed up at Doris Benders apartment at eight o’clock. No one was home. Wickes made quite a little commotion trying to get in and telephoned Barney Morden. He told Barney he thought something was wrong in the apartment because he had a date with Doris Bender.”
“Isn’t that rather an unusual thing for a man to do?”
“What?”
“Call up the district attorney’s investigator when a girl stands him up?”
“Perhaps. But this was an unusual situation. Wickes said he was worried about the girls. He said Dr. Hartwell had been looking for them, that he’d been packing a gun.”
“Do you know if that’s a fact?” Moraine asked.
“Yes, Barney investigated it. He says it’s a fact.”
“And did Hartwell talk with Carl Thorne?”
“Yes, he did. He met Thorne there at the apartment. Ann Hartwell didn’t want to see her husband, and Doris Bender persuaded Carl Thorne to talk with the man. Thorne gave him a fatherly talk, told him to go home and cool down and sue his wife for divorce if he wanted to, but not to go blabbing his troubles all over town.”
“And,” Moraine said, “I presume I’m indebted to Thorne for Hartwell’s visit this evening.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that Thorne told Hartwell I was his wife’s lover.”
“What makes you think he told Hartwell that?”
“I’m virtually certain of it.”
“Well, anyway, we were talking about Wickes,” Duncan said. “Wickes got in touch with Barney Morden, and Barney smelled a rat. He investigated. It looked like every one of them had cleared out and it looked as though they had cleared out in a hurry. Wickes intimated there might have been foul play. I didn’t want to have the stuff handled through my office, so he came up to yours. Wickes thought he could run down a lead somewhere and he went out to chase it down. I don’t know just where he was in the meantime, but I do know where he has when the murder was committed.”
“Where was he?”
“At your office. He came in within two minutes after you left, just before the patrol wagon came to take Dr. Hartwell to jail. That was right around eleven o’clock.”
“Wickes could have made it from Sixth Avenue and Maplehurst to my office in twelve or thirteen minutes,” Moraine said.
“Not if he’d stopped to commit a couple of murders in the meantime,” Duncan objected.
“Well, since we’re checking up on people, where was Carl Thorne?” Moraine asked.
“I don’t know. Carl was in touch with Barney — one of those telephone calls that was received at your office was from Thorne. He was out at his house then.”
“You mean he said he was out at his house.”
“Of course.”
“The fact that a man’s voice speaking over the telephone may say that the man is some particular place, doesn’t necessarily mean that he is at that place,” Moraine pointed out.
Duncan sighed wearily. “All of which beating around the bush,” he said, “means that in place of telling me where Natalie Rice was at the hour I mentioned, you have put me on the grid with a lot of questions, trying to distract my attention. Sam, I’m going to ask you once more: Where was Natalia Rice at ten forty-seven last night?”
Moraine started the car.
“I’m going to take you back to your office, Phil,” he said.
“And you’re not going to answer the question?”
“No, Phil, I’m not going to answer the question.”
“Why?”
“Because the question doesn’t do you justice. The thought back of it isn’t like you.”
“Baloney!”
“And I’m going to tell you something else,” Moraine went on. “You break away from Carl Thorne and break away quick.”
“Why?”
“Because I never gave you a bum tip in my life, and I’m giving that to you as a real, honest-to-God red-hot tip.”
“You mean I should give up my political career?”
“I don’t care what you do with your political career, but you break away from Carl Thorne, and don’t trust Barney Morden too far. He and Thorne are plotting against you right now. Barney Morden pretends to be your friend. He’d stab you in the back if he had the slightest possible opportunity. If you want proof, look at the way he’s turned against me the minute he thought it would be to his advantage to do so.”
“Barney’s pretty zealous — perhaps overly zealous,” Duncan said.
“Barney’s a crook,” Moraine answered, “and so’s Carl Thorne.”
“And you think I should deliberately break with Carl Thorne?”
“Yes.”
“I wish you’d tell me more of your reasons.”
“I can’t, Phil, but you think it over, and use your head on this Dixon case. Don’t get stampeded, and don’t rely too much on the evidence that Barney Morden drags in. And let me give you one more tip.”
“What is it?”
Moraine braked his car to a stop in front of Phil Duncan’s office building.
“Make a careful check on the time that murder was committed. Test those candles yourself.”