up the phone and dialed long distance. I got Boston Information and had them dig for the number.
“There is a Fenway,” I said. “They’re looking up Hales.”
“Thanks,” Bannerman murmured. He turned back to Gibby. “Tell me about Ellie,” he said. “How did it happen? You’re sure she’s dead. Not just missing or anything like that? Dead?”
“She was strangled,” Gibby told him. “Killed. It’s murder. I’m going to have to ask you to identify the body, since you’re the next of kin.”
It occurred to me that it had hardly been established that he was the next of kin. All we had was his own word for it that he was the dead girl’s brother. I put the thought aside. It didn’t matter too much at that point. If he was lying to us, confronting him with the body could do no harm and there might be a lot of use in it.
There wasn’t any recoil from the idea of seeing the body.
“I want to see her, poor kid,” he said. “I want to take her home to bury her, of course. Ellie, murdered. How does a thing like that happen to a little kid like Ellie?”
Information came up with the number.
“They’re ringing the Hales,” I said.
Gibby dropped his hand on Bannerman’s shoulder. “Do you suppose you could talk to them?” he asked. “There’s no use telling them anything and throwing a scare into them if we don’t have to. Just ask if she’s up there or been up there. She could be on a train coming down right now, not expecting you till later tonight.”
Bannerman nodded. He got out of the chair, came over and took the phone from my hand. He was shaking.
After a couple of moments he spoke into the phone.
“Mrs. Hale?” he said. “Gert?… You don’t know me. I’m Milton Bannerman.”
That produced one of those joyous cries at the other end. There’s a certain pitch the voice of an excited woman can reach at the telephone that makes it carry like nobody’s business. It’s only certain types of voices that will do it and this was one of those voices. Bannerman must have caught the zing of it against his eardrum because involuntarily he moved the receiver about an inch away from his ear and held it there. It was coming over like a public address system. We could all hear it.
“Joanie’s Milton Bannerman? We’ve been hearing all about you. You have to come up and see us. We’re dying to meet you, but Joanie’s already told you that. Is she with you now?”
“No, she isn’t, Gert. As a matter of fact that’s why I called. You see we’ve got crossed wires or something down here. I got into New York a little early and went around to my sister’s thinking I’d surprise the girls. Well, they’re not here, not either of them, and I just thought maybe Joanie was with you and would be coming down on a train that would get her in just before I was supposed to turn up.”
“Oh, no, Milton. She was up here. She told you she would be coming up for a couple of days. Well, she did. We had a lovely visit and she left last night. It was later than I liked but there are these friends I did so want her to meet and I couldn’t get them over before last evening and Joanie said it wasn’t as though she hadn’t already been in New York and didn’t know the way. She was sure she could get a cab at Grand Central and go right over to your sister’s even though it was going to be all of three in the morning when she got in. I wanted her to stay and take an early train this morning, but she said you were coming today and she didn’t want to take any chances on not being there when you arrived.”
Bannerman had been white when he first took up the phone. Now he had turned the color of wet ashes.
“You say her train got in at three o’clock this morning?” he moaned.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hale laughed. “Don’t sound so tragic. The porters in Grand Central are the sweetest things. They’re like somebody’s grandfather, really. And cab drivers are so reliable, especially the ones that
“There is a Fenway,” I said. “They’re looking up Hales.”
“Thanks,” Bannerman murmured. He turned back to Gibby. “Tell me about Ellie,” he said. “How did it happen? You’re sure she’s dead. Not just missing or anything like that? Dead?”
“She was strangled,” Gibby told him. “Killed. It’s murder. I’m going to have to ask you to identify the body, since you’re the next of kin.”
It occurred to me that it had hardly been established that he was the next of kin. All we had was his own word for it that he was the dead girl’s brother. I put the thought aside. It didn’t matter too much at that point. If he was lying to us, confronting him with the body could do no harm and there might be a lot of use in it.
There wasn’t any recoil from the idea of seeing the body.
“I want to see her, poor kid,” he said. “I want to take her home to bury her, of course. Ellie, murdered. How does a thing like that happen to a little kid like Ellie?”
Information came up with the number.
“They’re ringing the Hales,” I said.
Gibby dropped his hand on Bannerman’s shoulder. “Do you suppose you could talk to them?” he asked. “There’s no use telling them anything and throwing a scare into them if we don’t have to. Just ask if she’s up there or been up there. She could be on a train coming down right now, not expecting you till later tonight.”
Bannerman nodded. He got out of the chair, came over and took the phone from my hand. He was shaking.
After a couple of moments he spoke into the phone.
“Mrs. Hale?” he said. “Gert?… You don’t know me. I’m Milton Bannerman.”
That produced one of those joyous cries at the other end. There’s a certain pitch the voice of an excited woman can reach at the telephone that makes it carry like nobody’s business. It’s only certain types of voices that will do it and this was one of those voices. Bannerman must have caught the zing of it against his eardrum because involuntarily he moved the receiver about an inch away from his ear and held it there. It was coming over like a public address system. We could all hear it.
“Joanie’s Milton Bannerman? We’ve been hearing all about you. You have to come up and see us. We’re dying to meet you, but Joanie’s already told you that. Is she with you now?”
“No, she isn’t, Gert. As a matter of fact that’s why I called. You see we’ve got crossed wires or something down here. I got into New York a little early and went around to my sister’s thinking I’d surprise the girls. Well, they’re not here, not either of them, and I just thought maybe Joanie was with you and would be coming down on a train that would get her in just before I was supposed to turn up.”
“Oh, no, Milton. She was up here. She told you she would be coming up for a couple of days. Well, she did. We had a lovely visit and she left last night. It was later than I liked but there are these friends I did so want her to meet and I couldn’t get them over before last evening and Joanie said it wasn’t as though she hadn’t already been in New York and didn’t know the way. She was sure she could get a cab at Grand Central and go right over to your sister’s even though it was going to be all of three in the morning when she got in. I wanted her to stay and take an early train this morning, but she said you were coming today and she didn’t want to take any chances on not being there when you arrived.”
Bannerman had been white when he first took up the phone. Now he had turned the color of wet ashes.
“You say her train got in at three o’clock this morning?” he moaned.
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hale laughed. “Don’t sound so tragic. The porters in Grand Central are the sweetest things. They’re like somebody’s grandfather, really. And cab drivers are so reliable, especially the ones that
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