"That's quite a gift," I agreed.
Still smiling politely, he backed off and sat in the nearest chair. "You're a much smarter private detective than I thought," he said. "Getting those files from Earl Harvey wouldn't have been easy."
"I got lucky," I said carefully. "I didn't know the third folder belonged to you—I had it figured as Donna Alberta's property."
"Nobody is always right," he said gently. "What do you intend doing with this material, Boyd?"
"I hadn't gotten that far," I said truthfully. "I was kmd of assembling a picture in my mind."
"A portrait?" He put his head to one side and looked at me almost archly. "Can I ask whose portrait?—or is that a secret?"
"It's a group picture," I said, "with a dominant central figure—a prima donna."
"Go on!" he said excitedly. "This sounds fascinating."
"The people who were crazy for her are bunched all around," I went on. "I've been working my way through them the last few days, finding out how she indulged her sadism with each one of them. Like the rest of her, her cruelty is on a grand scale—^you agree?"
"Go on," he said quietly, and the smile faded slowly from his face.
"What I never realized until just now," I continued, "was that her manager was just as crazy for her as the rest of them—and indulging his tastes for big women like
his secretary was no real answer to his problem. It was Donna Alberta he really desired."
"The fascination of the big woman for someone like me is a common thing," he said softly. "Understandable, I think. And Donna is something really special—^with that voice, that body. The night I first heard her at the Met was the beginning of a new life for me. I was determined to get close to her—to become part of her world—and I did it."
"You became her manager," I said, nodding wearily. "Then came the day when Earl Harvey wanted her to sing Salome off Broadway. You probably figured he was joking—until he pulled this folder on you. Vm sure Donna respected your managerial talents if nothing else, so when you were forced to tell her it would be good for her career, she'd go along with it?"
"You're right," he nodded.
"That made for further problems—Paul KendaU, the guy Donna couldn't resist simply because Margot Lynn had gotten him first. Then Rex Tybolt who was crazy for her and getting the same kind of treatment you and Helen Mills were. Maybe Kendall was a breaking point—^you couldn't endure the thought of him making love to Donna. So you had the idea of warning her off?"
"You know all about the Niki incident?" He laughed with genuine amusement. "And here I was, thinking I'd paid you five hundred dollars for nothing!"
"You told Tybolt if he helped you get the dog, you could use it as a lever to make Donna a httle more friendly toward him—^and get rid of Kendall by blaming him for its disappearance," I said. "You told him to approach Helen MiUs and use the same argument—and it worked for the same reasons."
"You know the whole story, Boyd," Kasplin said slowly. "There's no point in working through all of it step by step —neither of us are the plodding type, I think. I intended killing Kendall from the beginning—he was a rude barbarian who delighted in making me the butt of most of his stupid practical jokes. When he decided for once to let me in on one of them and to help him with his jack-in-the-box fooHshness, I was only too happy to obhge.
The thought of Kendall sharing Donna's suite—for however short a period—was unthinkable!"
"So you came to his apartment sometime before ten— before Margot turned up again—with your opportunity tailor-made," I said. "And then you called the police yourself so they got there just as Margot was to spring the Ud?"
"That was a bit of luck," he admitted. "I couldn't be sure how long exactly it would take them. But it was easy to make the call. I knew Kendall's apartment almost as well as Margot Lynn did. After I helped Kendall into the box—" He laughed excitedly. "I'll never forget the look on his face when I told him how I was going to kill him. There he was helpless, squeezed into the box with his arms pinned down at his sides—" Reluctantly he came back to the point. "Anyway, after that was finished, I moved the phone from the dining room to the kitchen— he had a plug in every room. Later on when I arrived at the party, I went into the bathroom next to the kitchen, and from there it was easy to duck into the kitchen and make the call."
"How about Tybolt?" I asked.
"He was a fool!" Kasplin said shortly. "He was annoyed about the—particular treatment I gave the dog, and then he became very disgruntled because he was no closer to realizing his sordid dreams with Donna than he had been before. He started wondering out loud to me what the connection was between the death of the dog and Kendall's murder. Finally he had the impudence to try and threaten me—if I didn't establish him in Donna's suite, he'd tell her it was I who killed the dog."
"So you had to get rid of him," I said. "I'm curious about a couple of other pomts. You had no chance of getting this folder out of Eari Harvey's hands, so you had to go along with the opera the way he wanted it. Then you killed his producer, and after him, you killed his baritone—and put his head on a silver shield to be carried on stage."
"Yes?" Kasplin purred.
"It seems to me like your real aim was to kill the opera maybe?" I said tentatively. "Beat Harvey without him even knowing it was you?"
"You could be right, Boyd," he said, nodding vigorously. "Of course the whole crux of the matter was Donna herself."
"How's that?" I asked.
"The world's greatest prima donna appearing in a third-rate production, in a tenth-rate theater on Second Avenue?" He shuddered distastefully. "I couldn't allow it, Boyd. You understand it had to be stopped at any price."
I lit a cigarette and looked at him, wondering if he was real, or part of my own day-dreaming fantasy.
"There is one more question," he said casually. "Now that you know the whole story, what do you intend doing about it?"
"The only thing I can do, Kasplin," I said. "Call Lieutenant Chase."
"I wouldn't," he said softly.
"I don't have any choice," I snapped, and reached for the phone.
Kasplin stood up suddenly, his right hand twisting the silver top of his ebony cane, then pulling it away so that a rapier-thin blade slid neatly from the hollow stick. He seemed to dance toward the desk, and a second later a sharp point was pressing against my throat.
"Hang up, Boyd," he said curtly. "Don't make me kill you!"
It was no time to argue—I did as I was told. Kasplin stood balanced on his toes like a ballet dancer, and it only needed a gentle movement of his arm to run the sword straight through my neck and out the other side.
"That was one question you forgot," he said easily. "You never did get around to asking about the mysterious murder weapon the police never found on either occasion."
"My mistake," I said bleakly.
The outer door of the ofl5ce slammed suddenly, and quick footsteps sounded across the floor. Then Fran Jordan came into my office, an apologetic smile on her face.
"Danny—" she shrugged her shoulders "—I'm sorry, I completely forgot—"
Kasplin's eyes wavered, then his head started to turn toward Fran. I jerked my head frantically to one side, and the slim length of steel whistled past an inch from my
face. There was no time to think as Kasplin's body lunged toward me, I grabbed hold of his coat with both hands and flung him across my shoulder, his own momentum carrying him even faster.
He shrieked once, then the sound was lost in the crash of falling glass, and after that there was silence. I felt a cold draft of air across the back of my neck and turned around slowly. There was a gaping hole, surrounded by a frame of jagged glass, where tiie window in back of my desk used to be.
I walked over and looked down. A small knot of people quickly gathered around a tiny blob on the sidewalk, six stories below. I felt a soft pressure on my arm as Fran stood close beside me.
"Are you all right, Danny?" she asked in a shaky
voice.
"I'm fine, honey," I said. "You sure came back at the right moment. What was it you forgot, anyway?"
"I forgot Margot Lynn's final message. She said she was going back to her own apartment and if she never saw you again that was fine with her."
"She owes us a thousand dollars," I said. "She can be rude at that price."
"Shouldn't we caU the police, or something?" she asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," I said glumly. "I'm sure glad I've got you as an eyewitness—that Lieutenant Chase is just going to love this!"
"You've had a busy day, Danny," Fran said softly, and I felt the pressure on my arm spread suddenly as she leaned the length of her beautifully curved body against me. "After we're through with the police, why don't we go to my place? I guarantee home cooking!"
"It sounds like a wonderful idea," I said truthfully.
"You want me to call the police now?" she asked.
"Sure," I said. "See if you can get hold of Chase first, before you tell them what's happened."
"Will do," Fran said evenly. She moved away from me in a gentle, swaying motion that held a rapturous promise of things to come.
I picked a few spears of glass from the broken window and leaned out carefuUy. AU the city lights were fuzzy in the rain, and the air felt good. The twin spires of the Wal-
dorf were off there to the southeast of me, and I supposed the savage Salome would still be there—in her Towers suite. Maybe my first impression of a Valkyrie was right —the messenger of death sent from the gods. Kendall, the guy she'd stolen away from Margot, was dead. Tybolt, the guy who was fun to torment, was dead. Helen Mills, the girl who was fun to torment, had left her. Kasplin, the dwarf who was maybe special fun to torment, was dead. I wondered if she was feeling lonely yet
The savage salome Page 13
