Charlie Chan - Walk Softly, Strangler Part 2

Whatever else the actor was about to say was interrupted by the abrupt opening of the lacquered doors to the throne room followed by the emergence of the ravaged lady in the poker-hand pants suit. Closing them abruptly behind her, she paused in silence until she had the attention of all in the conservatory save for a few drunks otherwise occupied in potted palm alcoves.

"Kids," she said in her. husky, penetrating, somewhat graveled voice, "you can all go home now. Our hostess has been murdered!"

The room hushed.

VI.

ERIC SVORENSSEN pointed the forefinger of his highball holding hand at Chan and said, "You knew! Why didn't you. tell us?"

Gil Roberts said, "Probably, Doc, because he had orders not to."

Despite the languidness of his stance and the drawl of his voice, the actor spoke with authority. Svorenssen deflated and said, "Is that so, Charlie?"

Chan sipped his drink and said nothing.. Gil Roberts, muttering an excuse, took off after the lady in the pokerhands pant suit, who was heading for the pa.s.senger elevator...

Chan said, "Who's the lady in the pants suit?"

Svorenssen said, "That's Claudia Haynes. She has an overbite due to an uncorrected faulty occlusion when she was a child.,'

Shaking his head, Chan said, "Doc, I asked who she was, not for her dental chart."

"Sorry, Charlie, but I'm all shook up. Is Mei T'ang really dead?"

Chan nodded, repeated his question about the woman who had made the announcement, who was slipping into the elevator with Gil Roberts securely latched to her elbow.

Eric Svorenssen, his face drained of color, said, "Now she'll never get the eyetooth root-ca.n.a.l work done. Charlie, you wouldn't believe -"

"Who is she, Doc?" Chan committed the rare rudeness Of an interruption...

"Oh..." Svorenssen snapped out of it, said, "Claudia? She's an agent, what they call a package dealer. She's the one who put the deal together." He put down his near-empty gla.s.s on a small table, said, "Charlie, excuse me. I think I'm going to be sick."

Looking after the dentist until he disappeared in the lavender bathroom at a trot, the Hawaiian detective inspector turned his attention to the reactions of the others in the conservatory. For the moment, it was still a tableau, with most of those present still frozen into immobility by shock at Claudia Haynes's abrupt announcement. A sort of non-conversation piece, he thought, wishing he knew who they all were.

Even as he watched, the tableau broke up. Voices rose on every side, voices expressing disbelief for the most part as the message took its time to sink in. Then the noise level rose higher and the guests, like Caesar's Gaul, divided themselves into three parts.

One group headed for the elevator to give names and addresses to the police guard stationed there. Another headed back to the bar, while a third milled aimlessly about.

Strange scene, strange happening, Chan thought, wondering who, if any among them, might have information that could lead to the ident.i.ty of the person unknown by whom the crime had been committed. He heard one woman, denied the use of a telephone by the police, say, "But if I don't get this to Sheila first, I'm off her payroll."

Sheila, Chan surmised correctly, was almost certainly a screen gossip columnist. He was reminded again of the inevitable notoriety that must follow the dramatic murder of such.. famed, exotic public personality as Mei T'ang Wu had been.

It was a crime that demanded a quick solution for man!, reasons, not the least of them police prestige. He began to map out proper procedure and again was forced to remind himself of his entire lack of any status, official or private, sine.! his possible client was the victim.

A voice at his elbow said, "Inspector Chan?"

It brought him out of his brief reverie. A tall, reedy young man in a grey suit and blue sports shirt stood beside him, added, "Sir, Captain Jarvis wants to see you."

As the detective ushered l him through the bright lacquered door, Mei T'ang'; companion, Ah-Nah, was ushered out. She said nothing to Chan as they pa.s.sed, but her luminous dark eyes looked up eloquently into his with what he took to be a silent appeal to help.

The twilight of Mei T'ang', reception room had been banished and the lights were on bright and full. The body had already been removed and, despite the fact there were a half dozen persons present, the long chamber felt strangely empty. Even Pat Jarvis seemed to feel the eerie personality vacuum created by the departure of the former star's corpse. In death, her presence still dominated her surroundings as it had in life.

Jarvis said, "This one looks like a ring-tailed doozy." Then, to a pair of technicians busy by the now empty throne chair, "Don't forget to dust the gloves for latents." And, back to Chan, "Anything you've got, Charlie."

Chan gave it to him from the beginning in Dr. Svoressen's office. When he got to the episode of the lavender bath towel and the theft of the jeweled fly, Jarvis slapped the flat of a hand hard against the priceless antique chest on which he was resting his rump.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h!" he said. "Right under our noses! How do you like that for nerve?"

"Not much," said Chan. He lapsed into his pidgin to add, "Humble self much embarra.s.sed."

"You're embarra.s.sed!" said the captain of detectives. "How the h.e.l.l do you think I feel? I don't suppose you have any idea who did it?"

Chan shook his head, told him about the perfume, concluded, "Not much of a clue, I fear. Sorry."

"Not your fault, Charlie," said Jarvis, shaking his head like a mastiff emerging from the Santa Monica surf. Then, "And those G.o.d d.a.m.ned caterers... You know, Charlie, if I can find who called them for delivery at that precise moment, I believe we'd have this case wrapped up."

"Problem with call?"

"You can say that again' We don't even know it came from this building. Just a voice, apparently female, demanding immediate service; For a job like this, the Jason service has a stand-by system so they won't clutter up a party they're hired for until they're needed."

Chan said, "Would give much to know what Mei T'ang wished to see humble self about."

"You and me both!" Captain Jarvis paused, scowled at the tapestry on the opposite wall. Then he said, "Charlie, I don't know how to ask this of you!"

Chan said, "Best way ask. Then Charlie tell yes or no."

"I wish you'd stop the double-talk," said the police captain. "How the h.e.l.l can I ask a favor of you? You may be out of your jurisdiction, but you still outrank me, and I want your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just stay with it. You have an inside track to begin with because Mei T'ang asked to see you. You found the body, found the jeweled fly, you called me. Do what comes naturally, learn what you can. Frankly, we're stumped."

"Case early," said Chan. "Time needed for key." Then, "I'd like to know more about those jade and gold objects the fly came from.'?

"I haven't had time to examine them thoroughly," said Jarvis, standing upright.: "Let's take a look at them right now."

They left the scene of the murder, crossed the service elevator foyer to the laboratory. On the way, Chan remarked, "The black gloves - did they yield anything?"

"Don't expect much from them, Charlie, even after the lab boys have tested them. They're on sale in every department store in Los Angeles - and in at least half the small clothing shops."

"Men's or women's?" Chan asked.

"Women's - but that doesn't necessarily mean a thing as you very well know." They reached the laboratory and Captain Jarvis looked at the weird jewels in the big gla.s.s jars. He said, "Jesus, what in the h.e.l.l are they?"

Chan gave him his theory. When they reached the ginseng root, he pointed out the two flies, revealed the one whose duplicate he had found by the throne.

Jarvis squinted at it, said, "It could have fallen from one of the other weirdoes."

"I think not - no other two are alike." He pointed at the bizarre object in the jar before them, said, "I'd like to examine this one more closely, please."

"Go ahead, Charlie, though I'm d.a.m.ned if I see how it ties in with the murder."

Chan unscrewed the light metal lid of the jar without difficulty, plunged a hand in and withdrew the jeweled ginseng root. The moment his fingers caressed the sleek surface, he knew that it was not jade he was holding. It felt colder, greasier, totally different in texture. With each second of manual contact, the resemblance to jade: grew increasingly superficial.

He turned his attention to the two jeweled flies and here no tactile test was needed. Viewed closely, they were obviously inferior imitations of the brilliantly crafted insect he had picked up from the carpet by the dead film star's throne. Neither the gold nor the diamonds were genuine and the wired-in wing surfaces were mica rather than thin slices of white jade.

Chan explained what he had discovered, concluded, "Perhaps suggest something to agile police brain."

"h.e.l.l, yes," said Jarvis. "Suggest subst.i.tution to agile police brain. I wonder how many of them are phonies."

"Leave to expert hands," said Chan, "but suggest many if not all. Meanwhile, wonder if dead lady have keen eyesight."

"Okay, Charlie - and thanks. So far, this case has more questions than answers."

"Ask right questions - get right answers," said Chan.

"Confucius?"

"No, Socrates," was the reply.

VII.

IN THE conservatory, Charlie Chan found Svorenssen waiting for him almost alone in the recently filled room. The dentist, looking unhappily sober, was staring with gloom at the pale dregs of the highball in his right hand.

Chan said, "No need to wait, Doc. We're right near my hotel."

"I have a message for you," said Svorenssen. "Ah-Nah - Mei T'ang's companion - wants to talk to you."

"So...?" said Chan, remembering clearly the look of appeal she had sent his way when they pa.s.sed in the doorway.

"She had to go out - something about the funeral arrangements. I took the liberty of telling her where you are staying."

"That's okay, Doc. I want to talk to her."

"Also, we're invited to a sort of wake at Claudia's apartment downstairs. I told you I'd ask you, so now I've done it and you can refuse."

"On contrary - I accept," Chan told him.

Recalling his precarious ride up in the elevator, Chan elected to walk the stairs down to the second floor. There were perhaps a baker's dozen of guests in the shank lean agent's apartment, which covered one third of one side of the pa.s.sage that divided lengthwise the lower floors of the building. While this made Claudia Haynes's residence considerably smaller than that of Mei T'ang, with the conservatory aside, it was still a large old-fashioned apartment.

Claudia had furnished it comfortably with a hodgepodge of antiques and newer pieces that somehow managed to achieve a precarious harmony - light cane-back French Provincial chairs cheek by jowl with dark, heavy carved Spanish tables. A pair of curved elephant tusks, their tips almost reaching the ceiling, rose like parentheses on either side of the wide doorway between living and dining rooms.

Chan spotted a genuine Fernand Leger among the paintings and photographic blowups of film personalities and movie stills that were spotted casually along the walls.

Claudia greeted them at the door, gla.s.s in hand, gave Eric Svorenssen an embrace and then said to the detective, "Well, Charlie Chan, who dun it?"

Chan replied, "Ident.i.ty of murderer await police announcement. Till then, no can say."

He had long since run out of replies to a question so often asked that it bored him - but that he was too polite to ignore. He was ushered into a study to the right of the living room and ensconced on a worn brown leather sofa, where Gil Roberts placed a drink in his fist.

The actor said, "Claudia's cellar runs entirely to vodka and Fresca, so I took the liberty of bringing yours for you."

"Many thanks," said Chan. He sipped the drink, found it palatable, then said to the towering deputy host, "Tell me, what is a package dealer, Hollywood style, please."

Roberts dropped gracefully to a ha.s.sock close to the sofa, hugged a well tailored knee, said, "That could be a long order, Mr. Chan, but I'll try to be brief. A package dealer, Hollywood style; is usually an agent who puts his - in Claudia's case, her - clients together on a project which is then peddled to a studio or an independent distributor as a whole."

"In case of the vehicle for Mei T'ang and yourself?"

"Claudia had Mei T'ang and myself as clients also a half dozen; other actors. She owned; the screen play, which is the only thing she paid for' had Larry Kettering to direct and tied in Harold Heinemann as producer. She had the Ace-Keystone people ready to supply studio facilities and two major distributors begging for options on the finished product. It was a ripe vehicle."

"Name of vehicle?" Chan asked.

The actor shrugged. "Who knows what it would have been called by the time it came out? The working t.i.tle was Lady of Jade."

"Most fitting," said the detective. "Who put up the money to bring back such an old star?"

Claudia Haynes swung into the foreground, taking over from Gil Roberts. She said, "Mei T'ang was putting up the big nut. Ever since Bette Davis made her comeback in Baby Jane and Crawford in Sweet Charlotte, she's been hugging me to put her back together again in a suitable vehicle."

The antagonism between actor and agent etched in acid Gil Roberts' tone as he said, "That's not entirely true, Clau-Clau, darling - you did at least half the bugging yourself. How long is it since you swung a big package deal?"

Venom crackled silently in the air like static electricity. Claudia snapped, "Look who's talking! How long has it been since you've been even a semi-regular in a TV series?"

Roberts beamed at her happily, jiggled the fee in his gla.s.s as he looked down at Claudia from his great height and murmured sweetly, "It has long been my fond belief that it's up to a competent agent to get client parts."

For a moment, Chan thought Claudia was going to fling her gla.s.s in Gil Roberts' handsome face. She took a deep breath, then said, "It's up to the client to make good..."

It was weak and she knew it, for she turned to Chan and said, "Sorry, Charlie. We must sound like a flock of jackals squabbling over a dead tiger." Then, to Roberts, "By the way, where were you when Mei T'ang was strangled?"

Roberts' smile widened. He lifted his gla.s.s and said, "As far as I know, I was with you, sweetie. I told Captain Jarvis as much upstairs. What did you tell him?"

"None of your d.a.m.ned business, you overstuffed Westphalian smoked b.u.t.t," said Claudia, on which tone the scene ended as its two chief players drifted apart.

Chan cogitated over what he had just seen and heard, sipping his highball sparingly. Had Claudia's final retort been a trifle too vehement? He wondered, thought mebbeso, mebbeso and was grateful neither Dr. Svorenssen nor Pat Jarvis was present to hear him utter the pidgin aloud.

He wondered if Claudia's final lashout had not covered a very real relief at Robert's admission that he had covered her for the time of the murder by providing her with an alibi. Until then, Chan had only mildly considered the movements of possible suspects at the time of the murder, leaving such research to Captain Jarvis and his interrogators.

Now, he could not help wondering. After all, he had been closer to the crime, both in s.p.a.ce and in time, than had any other officer of the law, official or otherwise. Point by point, he went over what had happened that afternoon, from the moment he and Dr. Svorenssen approached the orange-brick apartment house the murdered film star had built.

His dentist friend returned with a freshly filled gla.s.s and said, "Charlie, there's a call for you." He indicated a telephone on a low refectory table across the room, a phone hitherto masked from the detective by a clump of people busily arguing whether a celebrated current male screen star were a non-actor or the genuine article.

Chan said, "Excuse me, please." He picked up the handset, said, "h.e.l.lo - Chan here."