The «Canary» Murder Case / Смерть Канарейки. Книга для чтения на английском языке - стр. 28

Markham regarded Vance dubiously, but made no reply.

Heath had stepped out into the hall, and now returned with the day telephone operator, a sallow thin young man who, we learned, was named Spively. His almost black hair, which accentuated the pallor of his face, was sleeked back from his forehead with pomade; and he wore a very shallow moustache which barely extended beyond the alae of his nostrils. He was dressed in an exaggeratedly dapper fashion, in a dazzling chocolate-colored suit cut very close to his figure, a pair of cloth-topped buttoned shoes, and a pink shirt with a stiff turn-over collar to match. He appeared nervous, and immediately sat down in the wicker chair by the door, fingering the sharp creases of his trousers, and running the tip of his tongue over his lips.

Markham went straight to the point.

“I understand you were at the switchboard yesterday afternoon and last night until ten o’clock. Is that correct?”

Spively swallowed hard, and nodded his head. “Yes, sir.”

“What time did Miss Odell go out to dinner?”

“About seven o’clock. I’d just sent to the restaurant next door for some sandwiches—”

“Did she go alone?” Markham interrupted his explanation.

“No. A fella called for her.”

“Did you know this ‘fella’?”

“I’d seen him a couple of times calling on Miss Odell, but I didn’t know who he was.”

“What did he look like?” Markham’s question was uttered with hurried impatience.

Spively’s description of the girl’s escort tallied with Jessup’s description of the man who had accompanied her home, though Spively was more voluble and less precise than Jessup had been. Patently, Miss Odell had gone out at seven and returned at eleven with the same man.

“Now,” resumed Markham, putting an added stress on his words, “I want to know who else called on Miss Odell between the time she went out to dinner and ten o’clock when you left the switchboard.”

Spively was puzzled by the question, and his thin arched eyebrows lifted and contracted.

“I—don’t understand,” he stammered. “How could any one call on Miss Odell when she was out?”

“Some one evidently did,” said Markham. “And he got into her apartment, and was there when she returned at eleven.”

The youth’s eyes opened wide, and his lips fell apart.

“My God, sir!” he exclaimed. “So that’s how they murdered her!—laid in wait for her! …” He stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing his own proximity to the mysterious chain of events that had led up to the crime. “But nobody got into her apartment while I was on duty,” he blurted, with frightened emphasis. “Nobody! I never left the board from the time she went out until quitting time.”

“Couldn’t any one have come in the side door?”

“What! Was it unlocked?” Spively’s tone was startled. “It never is unlocked at night. The janitor bolts it when he leaves at six.”

“And you didn’t unbolt it last night for any purpose? Think!”

“No, sir, I didn’t!” He shook his head earnestly.

“And you are positive that no one got into the apartment through the front door after Miss Odell left?”

“Positive! I tell you I didn’t leave the board the whole time, and nobody could’ve got by me without my knowing it. There was only one person that called and asked for her—”