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Authors: Edward D. Hoch
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organisation, and all that stuff. You might even enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t know.” Barney thought about it—about Susan Veldt a little, but mostly about what the directors were asking him to do. “There’s not a clue in it anywhere. We’ve got more than three hundred suspects—anyone in that room. We’ve even got twenty or so waiters. Besides which, just about anybody in the city could have walked in there without being noticed, the way people were shuffling around.”
“But we have a list of the prime suspects,” Max reminded him. “This guest list right here. With the seating arrangements and all. Maybe the police will be able to pin down that radio gadget a little better. Maybe they’ll say the killer had to be within twenty feet—or ten feet. If so, that would narrow down the suspects right away.”
Barney shook his head. “They’re not going to say that. We’re stuck with a murder that could have been committed by anybody in that room.”
“You’ll work on the case?” Harry Fox asked.
“I’ll look around for a day or two,” Barney agreed. “And I’ll try and get this gal off our necks. I’m not pretending to be any sort of detective, though. It’s for the police to find out who killed him. We can help a bit, that’s all.”
Harry had another idea. “How about this all-night radio show tomorrow? Are we going on with it as planned?”
Barney had forgotten Skinny Simon’s proposal in the rush of events. “What do you think?”
“We should do it,” Harry said. “It’s important to us now. We can get our message across to the people, maybe even appeal for some sort of help. But I think you should be on the show with the rest of us, Barney—especially if you’re undertaking the investigation. It would give us a peg for the whole discussion.”
Max Winters was far from certain. “What if Skinny Simon says something about violence being encouraged by mysteries?”
“Someone will say that anyway, and we might as well be there to defend ourselves. Right?” This came from Harry Fox.
Barney interrupted before things got too heated. “Okay. I’ll do it. You two guys are going on the show?”
“Right.”
“We still need two others.”
Max spoke up. “We’ve got two others. Dick McMullen will do it. I think he’s anxious to stay on my good side and get back to being an agent. Then I’ve got another one lined up too. I haven’t been sleeping all morning, you know. Frank Jesset—the confession magazine editor. That friend of Ross Craigthorn’s.”
“Friend?” Betty asked. “They weren’t looking too friendly when I saw them last night.”
“Okay,” Max said. “So maybe we’ll have the murderer right there with us. Craigthorn brought two people with him—his secretary, Miss Sweeney, and Frank Jesset. Maybe he’s been shacking up with Miss Sweeney all these years and Jesset wanted a piece of the action. Maybe Jesset rigged that thing up to kill him. Barney—I’ll bet if you play your cards right, you can get a confession out of him right on Skinny Simon’s show.”
“Sure, sure.” Barney said.
The awards dinner was traditionally followed by a cocktail party, and although they played it down after the previous night’s events, they hadn’t entirely cancelled it. Barney was standing by the front window looking out at the busy evening street when he saw Susan Veldt coming in the downstairs door. He put on his brightest smile as he walked to the door to greet her.
10 Susan Veldt
S HE HAD NEVER SEEN such a place—smoky and crowded and gloomily detached. It seemed different from the small, somewhat cheerless library she’d visited earlier in the week.
Barney Hamet was already pressing a cold drink into her hand. “Scotch and water. I hope it’s your brand,” he said.
“Thanks. I thought you might cancel the cocktails in view of last night’s events.”
“This is basically a pretty private affair and we’re just talking things over. We didn’t
“I don’t know.” Barney thought about it—about Susan Veldt a little, but mostly about what the directors were asking him to do. “There’s not a clue in it anywhere. We’ve got more than three hundred suspects—anyone in that room. We’ve even got twenty or so waiters. Besides which, just about anybody in the city could have walked in there without being noticed, the way people were shuffling around.”
“But we have a list of the prime suspects,” Max reminded him. “This guest list right here. With the seating arrangements and all. Maybe the police will be able to pin down that radio gadget a little better. Maybe they’ll say the killer had to be within twenty feet—or ten feet. If so, that would narrow down the suspects right away.”
Barney shook his head. “They’re not going to say that. We’re stuck with a murder that could have been committed by anybody in that room.”
“You’ll work on the case?” Harry Fox asked.
“I’ll look around for a day or two,” Barney agreed. “And I’ll try and get this gal off our necks. I’m not pretending to be any sort of detective, though. It’s for the police to find out who killed him. We can help a bit, that’s all.”
Harry had another idea. “How about this all-night radio show tomorrow? Are we going on with it as planned?”
Barney had forgotten Skinny Simon’s proposal in the rush of events. “What do you think?”
“We should do it,” Harry said. “It’s important to us now. We can get our message across to the people, maybe even appeal for some sort of help. But I think you should be on the show with the rest of us, Barney—especially if you’re undertaking the investigation. It would give us a peg for the whole discussion.”
Max Winters was far from certain. “What if Skinny Simon says something about violence being encouraged by mysteries?”
“Someone will say that anyway, and we might as well be there to defend ourselves. Right?” This came from Harry Fox.
Barney interrupted before things got too heated. “Okay. I’ll do it. You two guys are going on the show?”
“Right.”
“We still need two others.”
Max spoke up. “We’ve got two others. Dick McMullen will do it. I think he’s anxious to stay on my good side and get back to being an agent. Then I’ve got another one lined up too. I haven’t been sleeping all morning, you know. Frank Jesset—the confession magazine editor. That friend of Ross Craigthorn’s.”
“Friend?” Betty asked. “They weren’t looking too friendly when I saw them last night.”
“Okay,” Max said. “So maybe we’ll have the murderer right there with us. Craigthorn brought two people with him—his secretary, Miss Sweeney, and Frank Jesset. Maybe he’s been shacking up with Miss Sweeney all these years and Jesset wanted a piece of the action. Maybe Jesset rigged that thing up to kill him. Barney—I’ll bet if you play your cards right, you can get a confession out of him right on Skinny Simon’s show.”
“Sure, sure.” Barney said.
The awards dinner was traditionally followed by a cocktail party, and although they played it down after the previous night’s events, they hadn’t entirely cancelled it. Barney was standing by the front window looking out at the busy evening street when he saw Susan Veldt coming in the downstairs door. He put on his brightest smile as he walked to the door to greet her.
10 Susan Veldt
S HE HAD NEVER SEEN such a place—smoky and crowded and gloomily detached. It seemed different from the small, somewhat cheerless library she’d visited earlier in the week.
Barney Hamet was already pressing a cold drink into her hand. “Scotch and water. I hope it’s your brand,” he said.
“Thanks. I thought you might cancel the cocktails in view of last night’s events.”
“This is basically a pretty private affair and we’re just talking things over. We didn’t
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