Murder at Bridge | Page 2

Mr. Sanderson--gnawing his nails
with impatience. He thought I had filed it wrong, and you might have
made me lose my job."
Unconsciously her slightly husky contralto voice had sunk lower and
trembled audibly.
"I'm awfully sorry. I shan't touch your files again, Miss Crain."
"Oh--go on and call me Penny," she conceded impatiently. "What do
you want now?... And you can get anything you need out of the files if
you'll just put the folder in the bottom drawer of my desk, so that I can
file it myself--correctly!"
"Thank you, Penny," Bonnie Dundee said gravely. "I'd like awfully to

have the complete transcript of 'The State versus Maginty.' Mr.
Sanderson is determined to get a conviction where our former district
attorney most ingloriously failed. The new trial comes up in two weeks,
and he wants me to try to uncover a missing link of evidence."
"I know," she nodded, and stretched her short, slender body to pull
down the two heavy volumes he required.
Without a by-your-leave, Special Investigator Dundee resumed his
comfortable seat, and laid the first of the volumes open upon his knees.
But he did not seem to take a great deal of interest in the impanelling of
jurors in the case of one Rufus Maginty, who had won the temporary
triumph of a "hung jury" under the handling of the state's case by
District Attorney Sherwood, deposed in November's election.
Rather, his eyes followed the small, brisk figure of Miss Penelope
Crain, as it moved about the room, and his ears listened to the
somehow charming though emphatic tapping of her French heels....
French heels! Hadn't she been wearing sensible, Cuban-heeled Oxfords
all other days of this first week of his "attachment" to the district
attorney's office?... Cunning little thing, for all her thorniness and her
sharpness with him, which he now saw that he had deserved.... Pretty,
too.... Damned pretty!... What color was that dress of hers?... Ummm,
let's see ... Chartreuse, didn't they call it? Chartreuse with big brown
dots in it. Bet it was sleeveless under that short little jacket of
golden-brown chiffon velvet.... By Jove--and Dundee lapsed into one of
the Englishisms he had picked up during his six months' work in
England as a tyro in the records department of Scotland Yard, before he
had come to Hamilton to make a humble beginning as a cub detective
on the Homicide Squad--yes, by Jove, she was all dressed up, for some
reason or other.
"Of course! Because it's Saturday and you have the afternoon off!"
Dundee finished his reverie aloud, to the astonishment of the small
person trying to reach a file drawer just a little too high for her. "I
mean," he hastened to explain, "that I've just noticed how beautiful
your costume is, and found a reason for it."

There was sudden color in the creamy face. The French heels tapped an
angry progress across the big office, and Penny sat down abruptly in
her swivel chair, reached across the immaculate desk, snatched up a
morning paper and tossed it, without a glance, in the general direction
of her tormentor.
"Page three, column two, first item," she informed him ungraciously,
and then began to search with a funny sort of desperation for more
work to consume her extraordinary energy.
Bonnie Dundee grinned indulgently as he opened The Hamilton
Morning News and turned to the specified page and column.
"Ah! My old friend, the 'society editress,' in her very best style," he
commented as he began to read aloud:
"'Mrs. Juanita Selim, new and charming member, is entertaining the
Forsyte Alumnae Bridge Club this afternoon, luncheon to be served at
the exclusive new Breakaway Inn on Sheridan Road--'"
"I've read it--and I'm busy, so shut up!" Penny commanded, as she
gathered up pencils to sharpen.
Quite meekly, Bonnie Dundee subsided into silent perusal of an item he
was sure could have no possible interest for himself, in either a
personal or professional capacity, unless Penny's name was in it
somewhere:
"--after which the jolly party of young matrons and maids will adjourn
to Mrs. Selim's delightful home in the Primrose Meadows Addition."
He chuckled, and dared to interrupt the high importance of pointing-up
pencils. "I say, that's funny, isn't it?... 'Primrose Meadows Addition'!"
"I don't think it's funny," Penny retorted coldly. "It so happens that my
mother named it, that my father went into bankruptcy trying to make a
go of it, and that 'Mrs. Selim's delightful home' was built to be our
home, and in which we were fortunate enough to live only two months
before the crash came."

"Oh!" Dundee groaned. "Penny, Penny! I'm dreadfully sorry."
"Shut up!" she ordered, but her voice was huskier than ever with tears.
Dundee's now thoroughly interested eyes raced down the absurdly
written paragraphs: