The Blue Movie Murders by Ellery Queen Page B

didn’t want Sloane to find this man, or to find out anything about the blue-movie industry here in Rock-view.”
    â€œYou know a great deal.”
    She leaned back in the booth, sipping her coffee and studying his face. “Whatever possessed you to go to work for Sam Holland?” she asked finally.
    He shrugged. “Why not? The pay is good and I like the work.”
    â€œThe pay is good? In this state?”
    â€œThe Governor pays me out of his own pocket.”
    â€œAn unusual arrangement.”
    â€œBut it works.” He grinned at her. “It makes me incorruptible.” She reminded him more and more of that girl he’d dated in high school, and sitting there in the booth he had a distinct sense of déjà vu , of having lived through all this before.
    â€œHave you ever seen this film?” she asked.
    â€œ The Wild Nymph ? No. I never even heard of it before yesterday.”
    â€œWhat’s the next move in your investigation?”
    â€œTo find out what you’re doing in Rockview,” he told her with a grin.
    â€œLet’s just say I’m a reporter. It’s easier that way.”
    â€œAll right. Then what do you think should be my next move?” He leaned over and took one of her cigarettes.
    â€œI thought you’d quit smoking.”
    â€œI only said I was trying to.”
    â€œWell, to answer your question, I think I’d check the newspaper morgue and the library files—to see if there’s any trace of Sol Dahlman. The library would have a complete set of old directories and telephone books.”
    McCall gazed at her with admiration. She was a girl with a good head on her shoulders. “Come with me,” he suggested. “We’ll do it together right after breakfast.”
    April Evans smiled. “That’s the best offer I’m likely to get in this town.”
    McCall and April spent the entire morning looking through old newspaper files and phone books and even the yearbooks of nearby Stanyon University. But there was no Sol Dahlman mentioned or listed in any of them. It was as if the man had never existed, and perhaps he hadn’t—at least under that name.
    â€œI suppose I really didn’t expect to find anything,” McCall admitted. “Back in those days men who made blue movies wouldn’t be likely to use their real names.”
    â€œToday they give interviews and appear on TV talk shows.”
    He nodded, closing the last directory. “Times change.”
    â€œWhat now?”
    â€œI’m going to try some things on my own,” he said.
    â€œI get it. The brush-off.”
    â€œNot at all. Let’s meet for dinner and compare notes.”
    She thought about that, but only for a moment. “Sounds good. My hotel, at seven?”
    â€œI’ll be there.”
    They parted outside the library and McCall cut across May Street, heading for City Hall. The previous day’s meeting with Mayor Jordan had vaguely troubled him, perhaps because the Mayor had been too quiet in Xavier Mann’s presence. Perhaps, out of sight of his former employer, he might open up a little about his days at Mann Photo.
    Jordan was still out to lunch when McCall arrived, but he returned before long, bustling through the swinging wooden gate that was supposed to protect him from the public. If he saw McCall seated on the visitors’ bench he gave no sign. Finally, after another ten minutes, the secretary motioned McCall inside.
    The first thing one noticed on entering Mayor Jordan’s office was the huge photograph of him, head and shoulders, mounted on heavy cardboard and leaning against one wall. It was apparently left over from the most recent election campaign, and McCall wondered at the sort of man egotistical enough to keep it there at the side of his desk for all these months.
    Mayor Jordan nodded to him but did not offer to shake hands. His manner was polite but abrupt. “What can I