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Page 89
"Do you really suspect Marilyn or Enid?" I inquired.
"If this were half a generation ago I would say without
hesitation that the crime was the handiwork of a man. But now the
women are in everything. Young girls particularly--" He shrugged
his shoulders.
Mackay had one more suggestion. "The camera men, the extras, the
technical and studio staffs--they are not worthy of
consideration, are they?"
Kennedy shook his head.
The odor of coffee struck my nostrils and I turned to find the
percolator steaming. Kennedy leaned over, to take a whiff. Mackay
rose. At that moment there was a sudden crash and the window-pane
was shattered. Simultaneously a flash of light and a deafening
explosion took place in the room, scattering broadcast tiny bits
of glass from the laboratory table, splashing chemicals, many of
them dangerous, over everything.
Kennedy hurried to the wreck of his paraphernalia. In an instant
he held up a tiny bit of jagged metal.
"An explosive bullet!" he exclaimed. "An attempt to destroy my
evidence!"
XXV
ITCHING SALVE
For once I rose with Kennedy. He preceded me to the laboratory
after breakfast, however, leaving me to wait for Mackay. When the
little district attorney arrived I noticed that he carried a
package which looked as though it might contain a one-reel film
can.
"The negative we took from the cameras at Tarrytown," he
explained. "Also a print from each roll, ready to run. I've been
holding this as evidence. Mr. Kennedy wanted me to bring it with
me to-day."
"He's waiting for us at the laboratory," I remarked.
"He'll straighten everything up in a hurry, won't he?"
"Kennedy's the most high-handed individual I ever knew," I
laughed, "if he sees a chance of getting his man." Then I became
enthusiastic. "Often I've seen him gather a group of people in a
room, perhaps without the faintest shred of legal right to do so,
and there make the guilty person confess simply by marshaling the
evidence, or maybe betray himself by some scientific device. It's
wonderful, Mackay."
"Do you think he plans something of that kind this morning?"
I led the way to the door. "After what happened last night I know
that Kennedy will resort to almost anything."
The district attorney fingered the package under his arm. "He
might get everyone in the projection room then, and make them
watch the actual photographic record of Stella's death--the scene
where she scratched herself--"
"Let's hurry!" I interrupted.
When we entered the laboratory we found Kennedy vigorously
fanning a towel which he had hung up to dry. I recognized it as
the one I had discovered in the studio washroom immediately
following the first murder.
"This will serve me better as bait than as evidence," he laughed.
"I have impregnated it with a colorless chemical which will cling
to the fibers and enable me to identify the most infinitesimal
trace of it. We shall get up to the studio and start, well--I
guess you could call it fishing for the guilty man." He fingered
the folds, then jerked the towel down and flung it to me. "Here,
Walter! It's dry enough. Now I want you to rub the contents of
that tiny can of grease, open before you there, into the cloth."
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