The first drink did wonders for him. He drank the second one slowly, as a truly good cocktail should be taken, and let his thoughts move ahead to the problem of what his next step should be.
The killing of Hake Derr ended one phase of the affair, but only one phase. Derr had been an important cog in the plot to seize control of Durtol Drugs by the underworld, but only a cog. His death was not likely materially to disrupt the careful plan. There would be another man ready to step into Derr's shoes at once, and Operation Durtol would proceed as scheduled.
The wiping out of rats like The Barber and Hake Derr wasn't the real answer. One had to get to the top to accomplish anything worth while in the struggle against the insidious forces whose slimy tentacles were becoming more numerous and powerful every day.
Wayne had realized this from the very first when he had decided to throw himself into the struggle. This was why he had made no previous attempt to come to grips with Derr or any of his minions. He had watched and waited patiently, hoping for a break that would give him a lead to the man who was the real grains behind the boldly planned coup.
Until tonight. Until the wanton murder of his secretary had unleased forces within him that would brook no further delay.
Perhaps it had been a mistake in tactics to go after Derr, Wayne admitted somberly to himself as he finished his third drink. So be it. It had been inevitable from the moment he discovered Lois' body and knew who her killer was. He refused to regret what he had done. But now it was over, and he would have to turn himself back into the coldly reasoning and remorselessly logical machine he had been before Lois' death.
The cocktails helped. They cleared away the fog and clarified the situation as it now stood. He did have one lead, he reminded himself grimly. There could be no hesitancy about following it through. The time to strike was now. While Derr's death caused at least a slight interruption in the smooth functioning of the plan.
The real answer, he now knew, lay in the Hendrixon household itself. He had begun to suspect the truth earlier in the evening, but now he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Lois had been betrayed to her death by one of the persons who knew about her telephone call to Julius Hendrixon.
It had to be that way. No matterwhat the Gingham Girl really was. No matter how jealous she had been or how strongly she might have desired Lois' death, Wayne now knew that she hadn't possessed the necessary information to have sent Hake Derr to Lois' apartment. Though she admitted telling Hake that Morgan Wayne had a date with his secretary, that alone had not been enough. There wasn't a shadow of doubt in Wayne's mind that Derr's surprise had been genuine when he denied knowing that Wayne had been keeping a close watch on his docked yacht for weeks. Which was proof that Derr was not aware of the existence of the improvised office overlooking the yacht basin, and thus could not possibly have known the identity of Wayne's secretary.
So Priscilla's tip-off would not have been enough. The information about Lois must have come from another source. And probably the order to dispose of her also, Wayne went on grimly with his reasoning. He was sip ping his fifth cocktail now, and his mind was working with clockwork precision. It wasn't the sort of move that would occur to a mentality like Derr's, though it was certain he would have welcomed the suggestion that he strike at Wayne through an unsuspecting and defenseless girl. That assignment would have been right up Hake Derr's alley and he would have accepted it with enthusiasm.
And the thought of Lois' defenselessness as she waited for him in her black negligee was the clincher in Wayne's line of reasoning. Rat-souled killer that he was, Derr would have hesitated to go to Lois' apartment on his deadly errand unless he were assured that she would be alone—and that he could not possibly be interrupted by Wayne before the job was done and he could slink out.
To be assured of that, he must have known exactly what time Wayne left the Hendrixon mansion to drive into the city. Only those persons present when Wayne left could have given Derr the needed information.
Julius and his wife and his wife's brother... and Attorney Carson. Only those four knew the time he left the house,and also knew about his appointment with Lois Elling. Only one of those four could have communicated with Derr by telephone to send him on his deadly errand.
It made sense, of course. From the very first, Wayne had realized that the coup must certainly have been planned and was being engineered by someone close to the Durtol Drug empire and in a position to profit by the wholesale switching of legal drugs to illicit markets.
But this night's work narrowed it down tremendously.
Julius Hendrixon, John Durtol III, Mrs. Hendrixon, Elliot Carson.
One of those four. Two of them the parents of the young girl whose kidnaping had been arranged to press the plan through. And her uncle. And the trusted attorney and family friend.
Morgan Wayne nodded pleasantly to the waiter when his sixth cocktail was placed in front of him. “You can tell the chef to go to work now. A large baked potato, creamed onions, and a tossed salad. With your special roquefort dressing.”
Yes. One of those four. One of them had got to a telephone soon after Wayne left the house and communicated with Hake Derr. One who had been frightened by Wayne's knowledge of the plot to seize control of Durtol Drugs, and who had been fool enough to think the simplest and safest way to discourage him from further investigation was to murder the woman with whom he had a date and leave the warning for him to “lay off.”
Which one? None of them outwardly seemed to fit the role, yet Wayne had a queasy feeling that each one of the four was a distinct possibility.
Even Letty's mother?
Yes, goddamn it! he told himself savagely. Even Letty's mother. There was something about her that gave him that feeling. Despite the scene Mrs. Hendrixon had put on when her daughter was returned, Wayne had a hunch she was just about as maternal as a sow who has to be forcibly restrained from eating her litter as soon as it's born.
Actually, Carson was first on his list of suspects. Not a member of the family and thus wholly without sentimental attachment to the honor and reputation of Durtol Drugs, but still in a position to pull strings and manipulate the management to make the coup successful.
In fact, as his food came and Wayne attacked it with hearty appetite, he found himself wondering if it weren't very possible that Julius Hendrixon was merely a figurehead for Carson—if the lawyer had not contrived to have him put in charge of the firm's affairs so that he would have a ready tool to be manipulated at the right time.
Certainly, Julius had appeared something of an ass on their first meeting a month previously when he had laughed at Wayne's warning and disregarded it, and again tonight. Hardly the high type of successful business executive one expected to find at the helm of an enterprise like Durtol Drugs. You couldn't be sure, of course. His rough exterior and coarse manner might conceal an intelligence of the highest order. It was no use jumping to conclusions based on such brief acquaintanceship with the four persons involved.
Deductions were no good at this point. Some sort of concrete proof was needed. It might be possible to narrow the field of conjecture if he could learn which one or ones of the quartet had had access to a private telephone soon after he left the house. He was positive in his own mind that one of them had telephoned Derr to order the death of Lois. If it were possible to prove that one or more of them couldnot have made such a call, they could be eliminated from consideration.
Well, he had one pipe line into the Hendrixon household that none of them knew about, Wayne reminded himself wryly. He didn't particularly relish getting mixed up any further with Letty's adolescent fevers. But hehad promised her they would be alone together. A promise was a promise, he told himself sternly. Of course, when he gave it to her it had been with the mental reservation that it might be years before he kept it.
But now he knew it couldn't be years. Or even months or weeks. It would have to be at once. Tomorrow, if possible. While the events of tonight were fresh in her mind and
he might be able to get a coherent account of the movements of each of the four people involved immediately after his departure.
He was pleasantly relaxed with his coffee, a pony of superb Napoleon brandy, and a cigarette when he suddenly recalled that he still didn't know where he would spend the night. The apartment to which he had taken Letty was out of the question. It would be closely watched by the police and he didn't relish the idea of being hauled into a precinct station and being held there for hours, perhaps, until he could establish contact with some official high enough in the Department to vouch for him and order his release.
There was the Gingham Gardens—and Priscilla.
His heart began to pound at the thought of going to her and explaining that she need fear no further interference from Hake Derr. But he didn't know. He didn't yet know where Priscilla fitted into the picture. If her liaison with Derr had been prompted purely and simply by selfish mercenary reasons, as she claimed, then that cleared her of any complicity in the drug racket, or murder, but was, nonetheless, quite distasteful to Wayne. As he thought about her now, he wanted her again with every fiber of his strong body, but he was romanticist enough to desire fiercely more than merely a body that was for sale to the highest bidder. Perhaps he was a fool to want more. Often in the past, it hadn't made any difference. But with Priscilla, it did. There had been something about her when he first looked at her. Something he didn't want to laugh at, or to forget.
No, He knew he couldn't go to Priscilla's bed until the situation and her place in it had been resolved one way or another. Either way would suffice. If he were once convinced that she had nothing but an evilly beautiful and wantonly debauched body to offer him, he knew he would gladly take that and do with it what she wanted him to do. But not until he was convinced there could be nothing more for him from Priscilla Endicott.
He thought about Letty Hendrixon again, and grimaced when he found himself studying his watch speculatively.
Almost eleven. And it was practically an hour's drive to her house. Much too late to go calling now. Not because Letty wouldn't welcome him, but because it would probably be impossible to see her without others knowing.
Still, it might not be too late to telephone and ask about her condition after the trying events of the day. Tell her good night, perhaps, and suggest a meeting for tomorrow.
Wayne lifted a finger at his waiter and asked for a telephone to be plugged in. He called the Hendrixon number and heard the phone ring twice. Then a woman's voice said, “Mrs. Hendrixon's residence.”
The housekeeper, he thought, or a maid. He said, “May I speak to Mrs. Hendrixon, please?”
“Madame has retired and I am afraid that will be impossible tonight.”
Wayne thought he heard the faint click of another receiver coming off the hook, and he said smoothly, “I understand. Will you please tell her that Morgan Wayne called, and—”
“I'll take it, Jessica. You can hang up. Morgy!” It was Letty's eager young voice trilling over the wire. As fresh and effervescent as though she had just wakened and showered after ten hours' sleep.
“I just knew you'd call,” she went on as soon as the other receiver clicked. “How soon can you get here? Where are you now?”
“I'm in town.” Wayne hesitated and adopted a fatherly tone. “What you need is bed. If you can get away tomorrow—”
“What I need is you in bed with me.” Letty chuckled with delight at what she considered the shameless sophistication of her remark, and went on swiftly, “You needn't be frightened. It's perfectly safe. Everyone else is sound asleep except me and I've just been waiting for you to call. Don't turn in the front drive when you come,” she went on before he could protest. “Drive right past about two hundred yards and park. There's a path leading up to the gardener's cottage, only it's vacant now, and I'll be waiting for you there. It'll be dark because the electricity is cut off, but you can't miss it. I'll be waiting for you, Morgy.” She hung up.
Wayne hesitated with the receiver to his ear. While she had been speaking so swiftly to forestall any argument from him, he thought he had heard the sound of another receiver being very cautiously lifted on the line. He wondered how many extensions there were in the house, and whether it had merely been a curious servant or someone else. To be sure he had not imagined the sound, he said, “Wait, Letty. Are you still there?”
He waited and there was no sound. Then he simulated a groan and nipped a fingernail against the mouthpiece. It made a very satisfactory click, and almost immediately he heard another receiver being replaced on the other end.
He hung up and considered the situation wryly. Letty would be waiting at the gardener's cottage when he arrived—ifhe arrived—he had no doubt of that.
But who else would be waiting also?
He shrugged fatalistically as he called for his check. Perhaps it was just as well. It might force a showdown of sorts. Anything he could learn about the Hendrixon menage might be the one thing he needed. Any sort of action was better than sitting around twiddling his fingers. Even a midnight date with Letty—with the distinct possibility of being spied upon by either or both of her parents.
In fact, it was this possibility that decided Wayne to keep the date Letty had made. No matter how irresponsible they were as parents, he thought he could depend on either of them to interfere and break things up before they went too far. Without that assurance he would not have cared to tackle an assignation with the precocious Letty.
Chapter Seventeen
There were no policemen stationed at the Hendrixon turnoff this time, no lights showing from the big house on the hill as Wayne drove slowly past.
There was a bright moon overhead, partially obscured by fleecy white clouds, and Wayne leaned out the window to watch carefully for the path through the woods that Letty had mentioned over the telephone.
He found it about two hundred yards beyond the driveway as she had said, and pulled to the side to cut ignition and lights.
There was no sound as he got out of the car and stood there for a moment wondering how many kinds of fool a man could be, after all. Not even the faint night sounds that one expects in the country. Not the slightest breeze to rustle the leaves of the trees, no crickets or frogs to greet him as he climbed the path. He expected, actually, to be accosted at any moment. Even if it had been a servant listening in on the last part of the conversation, he believed a servant would have certainly informed master or mistress about Letty's arrangement of a midnight tryst in the gardener's cottage.
He hadn't planned what he would say if he was accosted. That would have to depend on circumstances, on who did the accosting and what soft of story Letty had told to explain how she happened to know Morgan Wayne well enough to be willing to meet him like this.
Whatever story Letty told, Wayne thought to himself that it would be a good one. He would try to follow through as best he could. At least this was action. And it would bring forth some sort of reaction.
The upward path was narrow and winding through the underbrush, and there was short grass underfoot that deadened the sound of his steps. He continued to move doggedly upward, and eventually come out into a small moonlit clearing with a clapboard cottage in the center of it.
Morgan Wayne paused in the last bit of shadow and listened intently before stepping into the moonlight. The cottage stood dark and silent in front of him. Over his left shoulder he could see the dark hulk of the Hendrixon mansion without a light showing. So far as any outward signs went, he was the only person awake in all of Westchester County.
He drew in a deep breath and dropped both hands into his coat pockets and stepped boldly out into the moonlight toward the silent cottage.
He reached the front door without incident. Every sense was alert and every nerve on edge as he turned the doorknob and pushed. The door opened easily and soundlessly. He moved with it swiftly, over the threshold and a step aside to press his back against the wall and avoid being silhouetted in the opening for anyone who mi
ght be waiting inside.
Still nothing happened. Faint moonlight came through the open door at his left and touched a few objects in the room. An upholstered chair standing near the door, a small round table a little beyond. The rest of the room was in darkness.
He held his breath for a long moment and listened intently, closing his eyes to adjust them more quickly to the dark. Blood drummed loudly in his ears and he could hear no other sound. But there was an intangiblefeel of some other living being close to him. An odor, perhaps, or an other-worldly emanation that touched off some sixth sense he didn't know he possessed.
He opened his eyes and said quietly, “Where are you, Letty?”
Then he saw her. The tenuous and shimmering whiteness of flesh standing erect not more than ten feet from him. The figure did not move and it didn't speak. It was ghostlike and unreal.
Wayne said angrily, “Why don't you say something, Letty? It's Morgan Wayne.” He moved toward her.
She waited for him to come. Without moving and without speaking. When he had covered half the distance he was conscious of the smell of her body. The thing he had sensed on first entering without being quite aware what it was.
The figure became less ghostlike and more real. There were two white limbs and a white torso and white arms outstretched to enfold him in her embrace. It was like Letty to put on a show like this, he thought with irrational anger as he neared her. She must have read in some book that women should be mysterious and silently alluring. He said indulgently, “Relax, for God's sake, before I turn you over my knee and—”
She surged forward against him and her hot arms were around his neck before he could avoid the embrace. She pressed her body against him and pressed her mouth on his, clinging fiercely about his neck with surprising strength. His hands went behind her back instinctively, and he found it sinewy and strong, the flesh firm and fever-hot beneath his hands.
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