Free The Benson Murder Case by S. S. Van Dine

thoroughly—eh, what?”
    Going to the telephone he called the District Attorney’s office, and I heard him make an appointment with Markham for lunch at the Stuyvesant Club.
    â€œWhat about that Nadelmann statuette at Stieglitz’s,” I asked, remembering the reason for my presence at Vance’s that morning.
    â€œI ain’t 2 in the mood for Greek simplifications to-day,” he answered, turning again to his newspapers.
    To say that I was surprised at his attitude is to express it mildly. In all my association with him I had never known him to forgo his enthusiasm for art in favour of any other divertisement; and heretofore anything pertaining to the law and its operations had failed to interest him. I realised, therefore, that something of an unusual nature was at work in his brain, and I refrained from further comment.
    Markham was a little late for the appointment at the Club, and Vance and I were already at our favourite corner-table when he arrived.
    â€œWell, my good Lycurgus,” Vance greeted him, “aside from the fact that several new and significant clues have been unearthed and that the public may expect importantdevelopments in the very near future, and all that sort of tosh, how are things really going?”
    Markham smiled.
    â€œI see you have been reading the newspapers. What do you think of the accounts?”
    â€œTypical, no doubt,” replied Vance. “They carefully and painstakingly omit nothing but the essentials.”
    â€œIndeed?” Markham’s tone was jocular. “And what, may I ask, do you regard as the essentials of the case?”
    â€œIn my foolish amateur way,” said Vance, “I looked upon dear Alvin’s toupee as a rather conspicuous essential, don’t y’know.”
    â€œBenson, at any rate, regarded it in that light, I imagine…. Anything else?”
    â€œWell, there was the collar and tie on the chiffonier.”
    â€œAnd,” added Markham chaffingly, “don’t overlook the false teeth in the tumbler.”
    â€œYou’re pos’tively coruscatin’!” Vance exclaimed. “Yes, they, too, were an essential of the situation. And I’ll warrant the imcomp’rable Heath didn’t even notice them. But the other Aristotles present were equally sketchy in their observations.
    â€œYou weren’t particularly impressed by the investigation yesterday, I take it,” said Markham.
    â€œOn the contrary,” Vance assured him, “I was impressed to the point of stupefaction. The whole proceedings constituted a masterpiece of absurdity. Everything relevant was sublimely ignored. There were at least a dozen
points de départ
, all leading in the same direction, but not one of them apparently was even noticed by any of the officiating
pourparleurs
. Everybody was too busy at such silly occupations as looking for cigarette-ends and inspecting the ironwork at the windows—those grilles, by the way, were rather attractive—Florentine design.”
    Markham was both amused and ruffled.
    â€œOne’s pretty safe with the police, Vance,” he said. “They get there eventually.”
    â€œI simply adore your trusting nature,” murmured Vance. “But confide in me: what do you know regarding Benson’s murder?”
    Markham hesitated.
    â€œThis is, of course, in confidence,” he said at length; “but this morning, right after you ’phoned, one of the men I had put to work on the amatory end of Benson’s life, reported that he had found the woman who left her handbag and gloves at the house that night—the initials on the handkerchief gave him the clue. And he dug up some interesting facts about her. As I suspected, she was Benson’s dinner companion that evening. She’s an actress—musical comedy, I believe. Muriel St. Clair by name.”
    â€œMost unfortunate,” breathed Vance. “I was hoping,