Free Silent Murders by Mary Miley

party guests were written on the plaster.
    “… um, Raoul Walsh … and Gary Cooper. Let’s see … Catherine Hays was there. Laura Frances, Robert Alexander, Lottie Pickford—oh, but of course Mr. Fairbanks has already given you that name. Have I already said Sara Rutherford? Oh, Jessie, thank heavens you’re here to help me remember!” The policemen turned to me as I came down the stairs. “Officer Giles and Officer … I’m sorry, oh, Blackford, yes, they are working up a list of every single person who was there last night, and I can’t remember very many. One of the guests killed Bruno Heilmann and they’re trying to figure out who was the last to leave.”
    “I’ll do my best,” I said, squeezing Myrna’s hand for reassurance.
    “Where did you run off to after Mr. Fairbanks called?” she asked me.
    I was hoping she wouldn’t pose that question in front of the policemen, but Myrna was the sort who had nothing to hide and so was incapable of thinking anyone else did, either.
    “He wanted me to meet him to go over the party list. He’s eager to help in any way he can to solve this monstrous crime,” I said piously. Then it was my turn to tell the police who had attended the party, and I was able to add several that Myrna had overlooked. Douglas Fairbanks had given them my name and Myrna’s, and as soon as they received the go-ahead from on high, they would follow up with each person on the list, asking them to recall who else was there. Eventually they would re-create the entire guest list.
    “And what time did you girls leave?” asked Officer Blackford, who seemed to be doing all the talking.
    Myrna spoke up. “That’s easy. It was twelve-fifteen because we had to catch the last Red Car at twelve-thirty.”
    “Who was there when you left?”
    “Gosh, everybody, just about. We left pretty early.”
    “The Fairbanks left before we did,” I added, “but Myrna is right. There were maybe two hundred people there at midnight and the party was going full swing. If you don’t mind me asking, were you the officers who were called to Heilmann’s home this morning?”
    Both Blackford and Giles nodded. So these were the men who had checked the body and called the detectives but had not gone upstairs. They’d be sorry if they’d known what they missed. Blackford continued. “This isn’t for public consumption yet. Captain said we could question you since Mr. Fairbanks had already told you, but they want to keep this death quiet for a while. They think it will help flush out the killer if fewer people know.” He lifted his shoulders as if to ask, Who knows where they got that dumb idea?
    The number of people who knew about the murder was growing larger by the hour. Officers Giles and Blackford knew. So did the police doctor who had come to examine the body—was he the same one who had been at Esther’s? The guard out front knew. So did the valet who found the body. The two detectives who were probably still at Heilmann’s house knew. And Zukor, of course, and Douglas Fairbanks, and Mary and Lottie Pickford. And now Myrna. And me. A secret with that many people in on it wasn’t much of a secret.
    When they finished their questions, Blackford said, “We need to call headquarters and the nearest call box is a couple blocks away. You got a telephone?” Myrna pointed him to the back of the hall and both men went to report in. We slipped into the kitchen.
    “Isn’t it awful?” said Myrna softly, now that we were alone. “A famous man like Bruno Heilmann murdered! Who could have done such a thing? I guess they’ll figure it out pretty quick. As soon as they find out who left last, they’ll know who did it.”
    “Not necessarily. Someone could have waited outside in the bushes until the last person had left and gone back inside to shoot him. Or one of the servants or cooks could have done it. Whoever it was knew how to shoot straight. He was killed with one bullet in the back of the