Free 1954 - Safer Dead by James Hadley Chase Page B

keep me long, I’ve got to go out in a little while.’
    ‘I won’t keep you long,’ I said, sitting down in an armchair that looked comfortable, but turned out to be far from it. If she had told me it had been stuffed with rocks I shouldn’t have been surprised. I took from my billfold the photograph of Fay Benson and offered it to her. ‘Ever seen this girl before?’
    She took the photograph, studied it, shook her head and handed it back.
    ‘I don’t think I have. Her face is familiar, but that doesn’t mean anything. So many girls in show business look like that.’
    I thought about this, studied Fay Benson’s features and was inclined to agree with her.
    ‘You’re sure she wasn’t one of the girls in your troupe when you went to Paris?’
    ‘Oh no, I’m quite sure of that.’
    ‘Joan Nichols went with you?’
    ‘Yes. It would be much more fun for me, Mr. Sladen, if I knew what this was all about.’
    ‘Sorry; briefly, this girl, Fay Benson, disappeared fourteen months ago under mysterious circumstances. Joan Nichols seemed to have known her. Anyway, she called at Fay’s hotel three days after Fay had disappeared. Miss Nichols asked the reception clerk to let her know if Fay showed up. She then returned to her apartment, fell downstairs and broke her neck.’
    ‘I know she fell downstairs,’ Janet Shelley said, looking questioningly at me. ‘It was an accident, wasn’t it?’
    ‘The coroner said so; the police think so, but I’m not so sure. She could have been pushed.’
    ‘But why - why do you think that?’
    ‘It’d take too long to go into now, Miss Shelley. I may be wrong, but I don’t think so. I’m trying to find out if Miss Nichols was a friend or just an acquaintance of Fay’s. Would you know?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘She never mentioned Fay Benson to me.’
    ‘Were you and Miss Nichols friends?’
    ‘Not particularly. She was rather difficult. None of the girls got on well with her.’
    ‘In what way - difficult?’
    She hesitated, then shrugged.
    ‘I don’t like gossiping about people, but as she’s dead, I don’t suppose it matters. She was always short of money. She tried to borrow from us. After all, we were all hard up, and we had to make do with what we were paid, but Joan would never stint herself. She was always in debt, always worrying someone for a loan. If she didn’t get it, she could be rather horrible. She had a very sharp tongue.’
    ‘What did she spend her money on?’
    Janet Shelley shrugged.
    ‘What do girls spend their money on? She never went without a thing. Of course, she had to dress better than we other girls. She moved in a better circle. She had an amazing talent for making friends with people with money. When she was in Paris she got friendly with Mrs. Cornelia Van Blake, the millionaire’s wife. Don’t ask me how she did it, but she did. Twice she went to Mrs. Van Blake’s hotel and had dinner with her. She borrowed a dress from me for the occasion, and somehow she squeezed twenty dollars out of some of the girls to put on a front. They never did get their money back, and I had a lot of trouble getting my dress back.’
    All this wasn’t interesting me very much, but I let her talk in the hope she would say something eventually that would be news to me.
    ‘Did you ever see her with a tall, suntanned guy around thirty-five who has an eyebrow moustache?’ I asked hopefully.
    She shook her head.
    ‘No. She didn’t have any young boy friends. All her male friends were old: business men; sugar daddies if you like.’
    For a girl who didn’t like gossiping about people she was doing all right, I thought.
    ‘Have you ever met a guy who fits that description? His name might be Henry Rutland. He owns a cream and green Cadillac.’
    She laughed ruefully.
    ‘I wish I had. He sounds fun. My boy friends never run to more than a Ford.’
    There didn’t seem any use my wasting her time or mine any further. I was getting nowhere fast.
    ‘Did