Free Dial Me for Murder by Amanda Matetsky Page A

the messenger waltzed in. Slouching in front of my desk and whistling the tune to “Dance with Me, Henry,” the young man waited for me to write a quick note to the printer and seal it, along with the stack of completed boards and marked-up photos, in a large manila envelope. Ten seconds after that, he and the package were gone.
    I shouted a silent hooray. I was alone. I could finally do the one thing I’d been aching to do all afternoon: look at Sabrina’s list. Whisking my purse from the bottom drawer, I removed the lavender envelope, ripped it apart, took out the folded sheets of lavender stationery, and smoothed them open on my desk. Then, starting with the first name on the first page of the list— Virginia’s (I mean, Melody’s) eight o’clock date the night she was killed—I took a deep breath and read Sabrina’s notes about suspect number one:
     
SAMUEL F. HOGARTH—Manhattan District Attorney. Age 49; married to Winifred; two teenage children, Shirley and Christopher. Graduate of Harvard Law School; son of cosmetics baron Gregory Hogarth; elected DA five years ago; resides on Central Park West. Office address and phone: 100 Centre Street, HAnover 2-4000.
     
Sam Hogarth?!!! I screeched to myself, shock waves shooting down my spine. Our esteemed district attorney? It can’t possibly be true!
    The way I saw it, Sam Hogarth was the least likely man in the whole darn city to use an escort service. He was the brightest, handsomest, most popular DA in Manhattan history, and everybody said he was destined to become a dynamic and respected figure in national politics. Word had it he was going to run for the Senate in ’58. His younger wife, Winifred, was gorgeous (all the gossip photogs loved her), and some thought she’d make a lovely First Lady someday. Had Hogarth really risked his good name, career, and marriage—not to mention his brilliant future—for a few hours of illicit sex?
    And could the fear that his indiscretions would be discovered have led the lustful law enforcer to commit murder?
    It was a burning question that was much too hot to handle. And when I considered the fact that finding the answer had now become my responsibility, I broke out in a serious sweat. I felt sick. I was dizzy. I had to have a cigarette! Why hadn’t I bought a pack when I was downstairs? Because you didn’t have enough money, you numskull! I vaulted out of my chair, scooted over to Mike’s desk, and started rummaging through the drawers, praying he had a spare pack of Lucky Strikes stashed somewhere.
    Bingo. I found a familiar white package with a big red bull’s-eye in the middle right-hand drawer, on top of a Webster’s dictionary I’d never seen Mike use. I ripped the pack open, took out one cigarette, tossed the Luckies back in the drawer, and slammed it closed. Then I tore back to my desk, lit up, inhaled deeply, and—fastening my eyes on the lavender list again—moved on to suspect number two:
     
TONY CORONA—Singer/Movie Star. Age 37; divorced three times; no children. Engaged to actress Eva Lavonne. Has many hit songs on the charts, including “The Tender Kiss,” “Love on the Rocks,” and “Hearts on Fire,” and two new movies in theaters: Young and Foolish and The Man with the Naked Blonde . Maintains offices and residences in Hollywood, Las Vegas, and in New York at the Plaza Hotel. Phone: PLaza 5-6655.
     
This name didn’t surprise me nearly as much as the first one, but I still found it hard to believe. Tony Corona was as well-known for being a ladies’ man as he was for his astoundingly successful recording and acting career. His three former wives had been gorgeous young actresses, and his current bride-to-be was the sexiest new starlet on the screen. Corona was fairly good-looking (average height and weight, enormous brown eyes, large head topped with wavy dark brown hair), and he was so rich and famous he could have any woman in the world he wanted.
    So why did he need to hire a