Read Online Death After Breakfast by Hugh Pentecost - Free Book Online
Authors: Hugh Pentecost
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everybody on this floor.”
Lieutenant Hardy had taken over Chambrun’s office on the second floor. Chambrun would have wanted it that way. He would have been present had he been available. He and Hardy worked well together. The lieutenant was a slow, plodding, very methodical man who never missed a single inch of the trail along the way; Chambrun was instinctive, a brilliant hunch player, and he knew his hotel as no cop knew his own city. Unfortunately he wasn’t there to add his own kind of genius, let alone facts he must have that we all wanted desperately to know.
I almost felt sorry for George Mayberry when Jerry and I found him closeted with Hardy when we came down from Janet Parker’s suite. The big man was in real trouble. He must have been one of the last people to see Laura Kauffman alive. He had had a confrontation with Chambrun about two hours before Chambrun had disappeared off the face of the earth. He was the only lead Hardy had, and the lieutenant was bearing down hard.
Hardy turned away from Mayberry as we came in, and his unspoken question was answered without words. No news of Chambrun.
“We’ve just come from talking to Janet Parker,” Jerry said. “We know from her that she saw Mayberry come out of Mrs. Kauffman’s suite shortly before eleven last night. Chambrun was with Miss Parker, and he was headed for a talk with Mayberry.”
“I have been asking for explanations.” Hardy said.
The office was pleasantly air conditioned, but Mayberry was mopping at a very red face with a handkerchief.
“You are asking me about personal matters that I don’t have to answer,” he said.
“Let’s forget about Chambrun for the moment,” Hardy said. He knew that, whatever had passed between Mayberry and Chambrun, Chambrun had spent another hour or more in the Spartan Bar afterwards. “But you are a material witness in the Kauffman case, Mr. Mayberry. The Medical Examiner tells us she died between ten o’clock and midnight. You were seen coming out of her suite at about ten minutes to eleven. You can tell us about your visit to Mrs. Kauffman as any innocent man might, or you can force me to get a warrant for your arrest as a material witness, and you are entitled to have your lawyer present.”
“Laura—Mrs. Kauffman—was perfectly fine when I left her,” Mayberry said. “It was a social visit. She was an old friend.”
“I don’t have time for bullshit, Mr. Mayberry,” Hardy said.
Mayberry waved his hands like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. “It had to do with the ball, and the filming that’s to take place tonight,” he said.
“So take your time, but tell it all,” Hardy said.
“Mr. Chambrun was being unreasonable about the filming tonight,” Mayberry said. He looked at me, and then at Jerry, as if he expected one of us to defend the boss. Neither of us said a word. “It had been agreed that the two stars, Mr. Randle and Miss Parker, could be filmed dancing at the party. But Chambrun refused to allow cameras on the floor, only in the gallery where the news cameras will be. There’d be no way to get good closeups that way, or move around to get the closeups from different angles.”
“Don’t they have something called a zoom lens that will take a closeup from a distance?” I asked.
“Duval won’t hear of it. This isn’t some action event. It’s a sensitive and artistic handling of a love story. He couldn’t get the effects he must get. Chambrun’s claim is that it would interfere with the pleasure of the guests who have paid high prices for their tickets as a contribution to the Cancer Fund. I went to see Laura—Mrs. Kauffman—to get her to use her influence to change Chambrun’s mind.”
“Your syndicate owns the hotel, doesn’t it?” Hardy asked. “Couldn’t you just give orders?”
“We have a contract with Chambrun,” Mayberry said. “It gives him a final authority on all details connected with management.”
“It makes it sticky,”
Lieutenant Hardy had taken over Chambrun’s office on the second floor. Chambrun would have wanted it that way. He would have been present had he been available. He and Hardy worked well together. The lieutenant was a slow, plodding, very methodical man who never missed a single inch of the trail along the way; Chambrun was instinctive, a brilliant hunch player, and he knew his hotel as no cop knew his own city. Unfortunately he wasn’t there to add his own kind of genius, let alone facts he must have that we all wanted desperately to know.
I almost felt sorry for George Mayberry when Jerry and I found him closeted with Hardy when we came down from Janet Parker’s suite. The big man was in real trouble. He must have been one of the last people to see Laura Kauffman alive. He had had a confrontation with Chambrun about two hours before Chambrun had disappeared off the face of the earth. He was the only lead Hardy had, and the lieutenant was bearing down hard.
Hardy turned away from Mayberry as we came in, and his unspoken question was answered without words. No news of Chambrun.
“We’ve just come from talking to Janet Parker,” Jerry said. “We know from her that she saw Mayberry come out of Mrs. Kauffman’s suite shortly before eleven last night. Chambrun was with Miss Parker, and he was headed for a talk with Mayberry.”
“I have been asking for explanations.” Hardy said.
The office was pleasantly air conditioned, but Mayberry was mopping at a very red face with a handkerchief.
“You are asking me about personal matters that I don’t have to answer,” he said.
“Let’s forget about Chambrun for the moment,” Hardy said. He knew that, whatever had passed between Mayberry and Chambrun, Chambrun had spent another hour or more in the Spartan Bar afterwards. “But you are a material witness in the Kauffman case, Mr. Mayberry. The Medical Examiner tells us she died between ten o’clock and midnight. You were seen coming out of her suite at about ten minutes to eleven. You can tell us about your visit to Mrs. Kauffman as any innocent man might, or you can force me to get a warrant for your arrest as a material witness, and you are entitled to have your lawyer present.”
“Laura—Mrs. Kauffman—was perfectly fine when I left her,” Mayberry said. “It was a social visit. She was an old friend.”
“I don’t have time for bullshit, Mr. Mayberry,” Hardy said.
Mayberry waved his hands like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver. “It had to do with the ball, and the filming that’s to take place tonight,” he said.
“So take your time, but tell it all,” Hardy said.
“Mr. Chambrun was being unreasonable about the filming tonight,” Mayberry said. He looked at me, and then at Jerry, as if he expected one of us to defend the boss. Neither of us said a word. “It had been agreed that the two stars, Mr. Randle and Miss Parker, could be filmed dancing at the party. But Chambrun refused to allow cameras on the floor, only in the gallery where the news cameras will be. There’d be no way to get good closeups that way, or move around to get the closeups from different angles.”
“Don’t they have something called a zoom lens that will take a closeup from a distance?” I asked.
“Duval won’t hear of it. This isn’t some action event. It’s a sensitive and artistic handling of a love story. He couldn’t get the effects he must get. Chambrun’s claim is that it would interfere with the pleasure of the guests who have paid high prices for their tickets as a contribution to the Cancer Fund. I went to see Laura—Mrs. Kauffman—to get her to use her influence to change Chambrun’s mind.”
“Your syndicate owns the hotel, doesn’t it?” Hardy asked. “Couldn’t you just give orders?”
“We have a contract with Chambrun,” Mayberry said. “It gives him a final authority on all details connected with management.”
“It makes it sticky,”
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