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Show THE BULLETIN. BINGHAM CANYON, I TAH I'T y G ERALDtS BROWN JpjjML to think that only Veronica went there. It was hardly rational, be-cause you'd think the only person to whom it would matter would be Veronica herself. Lately the wom-an hadn't come any more. Hence the wig which she had found. "Didn't Vallaincourt confide in you at all?" McCale asked. "No. Why should he?" "I've played with the idea that you were once his wife." A secret look behind the mascara told him he was right, but she said nothing. He got up, reaching for his hat on a nearby chair. At the door, he turned, his dark-eye- d face all sharp points and edges in the light. "You're in a bad spot." He tried to control the hardness in his voice. "I'd lock the door if I were you." He saw fear burning bright in her eyes. "Is that the advice you were go-ing to give me?" "Yes," he said. He became deadly serious. Some-how he had to get through to her. He slipped a business card from his wallet and placed it on a nearby table. "If you're frightened or Just want to talk," he said, "call me at the number on that card. You really BaI Mwm Bit B HSlKlHt mm ml ma if P Si i bhU private detective. Is PiCile, nuirder of Curt (boat to marry Veronica Lrs; thirty million dollars. 'Wlj (.f f,,rmatlon with police Vpru, and learns that B tie one the police suspect. Lnit" of the family all have HL oonv I' above suspicion. K,s Veronica's mother, Sybil, Kiod trother, Victoria and LWvt Stephen's wife, Karen, I lornu r wife of VaUalncourt. Bi Involved. McCale and his HjocltN bunt In the park for n. wt.iiiin. They have reason gut the fun will be found In I CHAPTER X L:t. they climbed the rise Bwhe"i' the old World War Rood. It was Rocky who Kt longer arm into Its bar-E-g, grunting. He withdrew T growling his disappoint- - Hap, Duke," he said. "I Hgottotn. Nothing there but H, of loaves." jHwas puzzled. "Leaves at Hm of that shaft? Non-Be- t' see." He snapped the Bhi5 flashlight Hound yellow circle of light, Ktd the "leaves" Rocky Bi. hand. An exclamation Ke escaped his lips. The fl:' "leaves," tangled, wet, Bously a woman's red- - Hynn was noticeably done lolled on the divan in an Honatural attitude. McCale Hot a fleeting moment that 'Hpassed out or was dead, the said, "it's you." Boor was ajar," he offered, B that Instant that she had Ejecting a visitor. W rung herself off the divan Lit that and staggered to . She looked at him, her "fhtiy and vicious, jjmt of here before I call the Bave you thrown out. I've Jpag more to say to you or Had, the lieutenant, either." ltd out a cigarette and said Bflame of his lighter, "So Bem your little story?" Killed like a contemptuous m. re I told it." Bv Would you rather have rtil morning to put the fln- - feronica Blgelow?" lughed a high-pitche- d Bpugh. Km a rat-trap-fc t. Just thought I'd ask." li 'jted slowly, and there was JP is under her bravado. fat, mister. Just what is It fewith me?" IP want to ask you a ques-jw- o and give you some ad- - 4haere," he said. "I know it P who ran away from the fe'Jrt murder. You were the rflfcan who ran over the hill. Bfbecause I was at an up- - and if there had T"jindow, I would have seen a lot," she said sullen-ly you can't prove it." I. 5 my way to." jeah? Well, nuts to you. is still good. Besides, the ad red hair. If you saw i know that." Ihen." He threw the red 1 cn the coffee table he-lped. "Where'd you get I cannon where you hid it. this straight. Any cop or (lawyer is going to know jfoduce this wig that your pio:iey. You should have ire pains with it if you pur story to stick. You're lady. I think you're going i worse one. You're mak ing in looking more like one of the Futires. His musing swiftly encom-passed the whole lot of them, the Bigelows en masse. With the pos-sible exception of Miss Adelaide, they were unreal, without authen-ticity. He watched Victoria with a bored expression as she fingered a book on the desk, examined the Lester Varga painting of a Nubian woman which hung over a bookcase to see if it was an original. "It's late," he said, breaking the silence. "You came to see me about something. It must be im-portant for you to call at this hour. I hate to hurry you, but if you've satisfied your curiosity, perhaps you'll tell me what this Is all about." She turned abruptly and came over to him. "I want you to do something for me." "What can I do for you?" His voice was urgent and exasperated. "Well" she fumbled for a phrase "you'll probably have an an op-portunity to go through Curt things, won't you?" He looked up, pursing his lips. "We-e-U.- " Better not tell her the cupboard was bare. "There Is something of mine-t-hat is. Curt had some letters that belong to me. I thought" "That I might take them out from under the eyes of the police? I'm afraid I wouldn't have the chance. By this time, the place has been gone over with a vacuum cleaner." "But they wouldn't just be in any ordinary place. I'm sure he had a hiding place somewhere In that apartment. A wall safe or or something." "I doubt It It seems perfectly obvious that you have already looked in every available place." "Why I" ", . . Tut, tut. Your intonation gave you away." "My, you're clever, aren't you?" "Let us say well-traine- You visited Vallaincourt often?" "No, I well, that Is, I went there once in a while for cocktails, with a few friends." She was on her guard now. "Often enough to look about for something that was mine." "Vallaincourt was hanging onto your correspondence." "Oh, no." "Then why didn't you Just ask for it?" "I did, but he'd only laugh and say he'd give them all back when " She caught herself. She bit her lower lip sullenly. "When he was safely married to Veronica Bigelow, I'll wager." "You're quite the Sherlock, aren't you, mister? Listen, can I or can I not buy your services? I want those letters. Do I get them?" She moved closer to him and stared him in the face boldly, a viperish Intensity in her eyes. For a moment, McCale gazed deeply into her vicious little soul. "Not from me." His voice was as cold as steel. He turned away from her with a brusqueness intended to convey that he was through with their little in-terview. He spoke quietly. "I'm sorry. I wish you'd take my word for it that there are none of your letters at the Vallaincourt apartment. No letters of any kind, in fact." She eyed him narrowly. "You've been there already." He nodded. "Thanks, but I don't believe you." "All right," he went on wearily, "don't believe me. But I assure you, there is nothing there. There's not a wall safe or a sliding panel in the whole shebang." "The police" "I hardly think so. I was there before they arrived." She seemed suddenly drained of vitality. There was a thwarted look on her face. "So that's that." "Just that, I'm afraid. However, I think you'll hear from your let-ters." Rocky pushed his arm into the barrel, groping. should talk, you know. I mean more than you've talked so far. I know you're holding back something important something that is dan-gerous to someone. I think you're planning to sell that information. A little blackmail, maybe. But let me warn you, you are dealing with a d murderer. You're in danger. Miss Lynn. "You know that." She laughed loudly, hysterically. "You fool," she screamed. "You think you know a lot. Well, what do you know? Just a lot of bunk I told you. You think you can scare me into admitting something. I can take care of myself. What're you trying to do? Get out! Get out!" His last look showed her ashen and distraught. She was stretched on the davenport, hair dishevelled, mouth lax, deep circles under the horrible eyes. "That's how she'll be when she's old," McCale thought as he reached the pavement. He walked slowly down Tremont street, gulping deep breaths of wet air. Victoria Bigelow Seeks Her Letters The buzzer sounded in the outer office. McCale looked at his 'watch. It was three in the morning. He walked quickly to the door, press-ing the button that released the lock in the vestibule. He opened the office door, looked out into the hall, and wondered who could be call- - "tle gamble on your own Be along the line and I "d better tell me what it "f! narrowed, Tartar-like- , 11 tnMant. y u five minutes. Think it over to the desk, holding uB1' as if timing her by '"j-- W- " was five minutes of iBr''e he wa'ted. his eyes "ic.iily over the pictures .Lynn's boy friends. There rjB"or ur,d a petty officer, a Btal!, unhappy-lookin- g v lieutenant, and a smile an acro-'Bl'- s t:hts. There were sev- - mFs- proving that, besides 5Bc 'aste, Shari was ed by anything in uni- - Bre was no picture of Curt Tft McCale wondered at H o'clock, he turned to her e surprised him by be- - talk almost immediate- - BJ found the wig at Vallain-pr- : cnt, days before. He 'Pf Wl ''nan who came there someone disguised as 1B e denied she was the B,"! didn't know, hadn't M--t idea who could have B15' "n bim. No. g evidently had ing at that hour. Sharp heel clicks told him it was a woman coming up the stairs. The head and shoul-ders, then the figure of a girl swathed in furs, with a cowl con-cealing most of her face, rose out of the stairwell. She saw him, hurried forward with a short laugh and stepped in-side hurriedly. She pushed back the cowl of her Persian lamb coat and he saw the black hair and Beardsley face of Victoria Bigelow. She perched herself on the corner of the desk, loosening her coat and swinging one leg. "I could stand a drink. You might be that hospitable." Silently he poured her a whisky and soda from the cabinet. He still looked at her with hardly concealed hostility in his glance. "About my being followed here, ' she said, sipping her drink, "have no fear. The police didn't even put a man on the house. Old unim-peachable family stuff." ' You can't be sure." "Sure enough." She shrugged the suggestion away. She slipped off the desk with a languorous movement, meant to be provocative, McCale supposed. Scrutinizing her closely, he was aware of the complete artificiality of her make-up- . She had tried to effect an exotic appearance, in the manner of the cinema, but succeed- - A Parting Shot Startles McCale "Oh, my God! What a stink they will make strewn all over the front pages of some slimy paper. It'd take more than the Bigelow money to" "I don't mean that." "Oh!" The echo of it hung in the air. She gazed at him once more as if to reassure herself of his honesty. His inscrutability seemed to have baffled her. "We shall see what we shall see," she said finally, a note of derision and forced facetiousness in her tone. He followed her to the door, watching her down the stairs. At the turn, she looked back at him. She stopped, waiting a moment un-til he became aware that she in-tended to explode a farewell bomb-shell. "If they don't turn up, Sherlock, I'll go to Shari Lynn for them, what?" She laughed insolently as she continued down. McCale shook his head in utter weariness as he went back in. He was sure the interview had been a fiasco. At least his share of it. Things were piling up too quickly, too fast, one conclusion contradict ing another. (TO BE CONTINUED) SEWING CIRCLE PATTERNS Smart, XJerSatiie, (Sutton ZrronUr One- - Ijard--Apron IfKjaheA flice Cfift i mm Aprn If !:vjll QflQQ VOU'LL need just one yard of J i. OUOO 'gaily printed fabric to make Ui jjL 12-4- 2 this pretty and practical bib apron 11 in the smaller sizes. So easy to I do and an ideal gift for showers, "double-crosse- r" You can't trust snow. It might have ice under it. And that means trouble fast! Thousands of destructive accidents each winter could have been prevented by WEED TIRE CHAINS. 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