Close by the forty-foot-high diving-board, Doc Holmes, the two interns, a photographer and four policemen stood on the edge of the swimming-pool, looking down at the water. That section of the water was dyed crimson, the rest of the water was a vivid blue.
As Bardin and Conrad came through the cocktail lounge on to the blue-tiled surround of the pool, Bardin said, “I’ve had one look at this, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing it again.”
They joined the group under the diving-board.
“Well, there she is,” Bardin went on, and waved his hand to the water.
Paul looked at the headless, naked body that lay on the floor of the shallow end of the pool. The savage way it had been mutilated made his stomach suddenly contract.
“Where’s the head?” he asked, turning away.
“I left it where I found it. It was on a table in one of the changing-rooms. Want to look at it?”
“No, thank you. You’re sure it’s June Arnot?”
“No doubt about it.”
Conrad turned to Doc Holmes.
“Okay, Doc, I’ve seen all I want to are. You can get busy now. You’ll let me have a copy of your report?”
Doc Holmes nodded.
Bardin said, “Okay, boys, get her out. Careful how you handle her.”
Three of the policemen moved forward reluctantly. One of them pushed a long boat-hook into the water and groped for the body.
“Let’s talk to Fedor while this is going on,” Conrad said. “Have him up to the house, will you?”
Bardin sent one of the policemen to fetch Fedor.
As he and Conrad mounted the steps on their way back to the house, he asked, “Well, what do you make of it so far?”
“Looks to me as if it was done by someone who is a fairly frequent visitor to the house. The fact he was admitted by the guard puts him out of the stranger class, and the fact he wiped out the whole of the staff who probably could have identified him, points to it too.”
“Unless some maniac got in and ran amok.”
“The guard wouldn’t have opened the gates to him.”
“He might have. Depends on the story the guy told him.”
As they reached the house two policemen came through the front entrance, carrying a stretcher on which was a covered body.
That’s the lot, Lieutenant,” one of them said. The house is clear now.”
Bardin grunted and walked up the steps and down into the patio.
“Do you think Fedor’s in the clear?” Conrad asked as he sat down in a basket chair.
“He’s not the type to cut loose like this. Besides, if he did do it, he’d have to have a damned strong motive. She was his only client, and he made a small fortune out of her.”
“A woman like her would have a lot of enemies,” Conrad said, stretching out his long legs. “Whoever did it certainly hated her guts.”
“She seems to have had some pretty horrible acquaintances,” Bardin said, rubbing his hand across his eyes. “From the hints I’ve picked up from time to time, there was nothing too bad for her to dabble in. Did you know she was supposed to be a special friend of Jack Maurer?”
Conrad stiffened to attention.
“No. How special?”
Bardin grinned. Thought that would make you sit up. I can’t swear to it, but I’ve heard plenty of rumours. She kept it very quiet, but the story has it they were lovers.”
“I wish I could believe that. This is the kind of job Maurer might pull. He’s ruthless enough. Remember that gang massacre he engineered a couple of years back? Seven men machine-gunned against a wall?”
“We don’t know for certain Maurer did pull that one,” Bardin said cautiously.
“Who else did, then? Those men were muscling in on his territory. He had everything to gain by getting rid of them.”
“The Captain wasn’t convinced. He thought it was Jacobi’s mob trying to hang something on Maurer.”
“He knows what I think of that cockeyed theory. It was Maurer, and this killing could fit Maurer too.”
“You’ve got a bug about Maurer,” Bardin said, shrugging. “I believe you’d sell your soul to get him behind bars.”
“I don’t want him behind bars,” Conrad said, a sudden savage note in his voice. “I want him in the chair. He’s been in the world a damned sight too long.”
A policeman came to the patio door, coughed and jerked his thumb expressively.
“Here’s Mr. Fedor, sir.”
Conrad and Bardin got to their feet.
Harrison Fedor, June Arnot’s publicity manager, came across the mosaicpaved floor with a bouncing little rush. He was a small thin man with steady hard eyes, a rat-trap of a mouth and lantern jaws. He grabbed Conrad’s hand and shook it violently.
“Nice to see you here. What’s been happening? Is June all right?”
“Far from it,” Conrad said quietly. “She’s been murdered: she and the whole staff.”
Fedor gulped and his face sagged, then he got hold of himself and sat down in one of the basket chairs.
“You mean she’s dead?”
“She’s dead all right.”
“For God’s sake!” Fedor took off his hat and ran his fingers through his thinning locks. “Dead, eh? Well, goddamn it! I can’t believe it.”
He stared first at Bardin, then at Paul. Neither of the men said anything. They waited.
“Murdered!” Fedor went on after a pause. “What a sensation this is going to be! Phew! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“What does that mean?” Bardin growled, his face heavy with disapproval.
Fedor grinned wryly.
“As you didn’t have to work for her for five interminable years you couldn’t know what it means.” He leaned forward and jabbed his forefinger in Bardin’s direction. “I’ll be damned if I’ll cry. Maybe I’ve lost my meal ticket, but I’ve also lost a goddamned pain in the neck. That bitch has been riding me to death. It was either her or me in the long run. I’ve got an ulcer because of her. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with from that woman!”
“Someone hacked her head off,” Conrad said quietly. “Not content with that, he ripped her as well. Can you think of anyone who would do that to her?”
Fedor’s eyes popped.
“Good grief! Hacked her head off! For God’s sake! Why did he do that?”
“For the same reason he ripped her: he didn’t like her. Know anyone who’d dive off the deep end like that?”
Fedor’s eyes suddenly shifted.
“Can’t say I do. Hell! Have the press got this yet?”
“No, and they won’t get it until I have some more facts to work on,” Bardin said grimly. “Now look, if you do know someone who might fit, you’d better spill it. The quicker we shut this case down, the better for everyone, including you.”
Fedor hesitated, then shrugged."I guess that’s right. Ralph Jordan was her current lover. They have been having some mighty awful quarrels recently. This picture he’s making with June is his last. Pacific Pictures have torn up his contract. They’ve had more than enough of him.”
“Why?” Conrad asked, lighting a cigarette.
“He’s been living on a diet of reefers for the past six months, and boy! does that guy hit the roof after a reefer session!”
“In what way?”
“He runs amok.” Fedor took out his handkerchief and blotted his face with it. “He set fire to one of the studios the week before last. Then last week, at Maurice Laird’s swim party, he started something that took Laird everything he had to hush up. Jordan had some kind of acid he went around splashing on the girl’s swim-suits. The stuff started burning, and Bingo! there were no swim-suits. You’ve never seen anything like it. Some thirty of our best-known stars were running around without a stitch on. Okay, it was pretty funny for us guys, and we appreciated the joke until we found the stuff hadn’t only taken off the swimsuits. It took off a few yards of skin as well. Five girls had to go to hospital. They were in a terrible state. If Laird hadn’t paid up handsomely Jordan would have been prosecuted. Next morning Laird tore up his contract.”
Conrad and Bardin exchanged glances.
“Sounds as if we might go along and talk to this guy,” Bardin said.
“For the love of mike don’t tell him I said anything about him,” Fedor said feverishly. “I’ve enough on my hands without having to cope with him.”
“Apart from Jordan,” Conrad said, “does anyone else come to your mind who might have done this?”
Fedor shook his head.
“No. Most of June’s friends were pretty rotten, but not all that rotten.”
“Is there anything in the story that she and Jack Maurer were lovers?”
Fedor suddenly looked down at his hands. A cold, remote expression came over his face.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You could make a guess. Did she ever mention Maurer to you?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear his name coupled with her?”
“I guess not.”
“Did you ever see him with her?”
“No.”
Conrad looked across at Bardin.
“Isn’t it wonderful that as soon as Maurer’s name is mentioned everyone clams up? You’d think the guy didn’t exist.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Fedor said hastily. “If I knew anything I’d tell you. I don’t know a thing about Maurer except what I’ve read in the papers.”
“The same old song and dance,” Conrad said in disgust. “One of those days, with any luck, I’ll come across someone with a little guts who isn’t scared of Maurer, and who knows something : one of these days but, God knows when.”
“Take it easy,” Bardin said. “If the guy doesn’t know he doesn’t know.”
Sergeant O’Brien came down .the steps of the patio.
“Can I have a word, Lieutenant?”
Bardin took his arm and walked with him into the lounge.
“Stick around,” Paul said to Fedor, and went after them.
“He’s found the gun,” Bardin said, his heavy face more cheerful. He held out a .45 Colt automatic. “Look at this.”
Conrad took the gun and examined it. Engraved on the butt were the initials R.J.
“Where did you find it?” he asked O’Brien.
“In the shrubbery about thirty yards from the main gate. I’ll bet a dollar it’s the gun. It’s empty; it’s been fired very recently, and it’s a .45.”
“Better get it checked, Sam.”
Bardin nodded. He handed the gun to O’Brien.
“Take it down to headquarters and have it checked against the slug you’ve found.” He turned to Conrad. “R.J. That’s easy, isn’t it? Looks like I’ve got me an open and shut case. Looks like Jordan’s got some talking to do. Coming?”