Murder Your Darlings by Murphy J.J

Author:Murphy, J.J.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, Inc.
Published: 2011-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

The Sunday afternoon sun slanted through her bedroom window and warmed her face. She sat up in bed. The sunlight felt good, and she realized she felt good. She felt alert and ready to go.

This was unusual. Most Sunday afternoons, she woke up hungover and irritable.

The good feeling was short-lived, though, as she recalled the night before ... the long grilling by Captain Church and Detective O’Rannigan. The close call at the greasy spoon with Mickey Finn and his henchmen. Then Jack Dempsey had informed her that he wasn’t really up late drinking cocktails. He was up early and on his way to the gym. He said he hoped to see her again; then he and his pals left. Benchley had walked her back to the Algonquin; then he, too, toddled off to the train station to spend the day with his family.

She kicked the blankets off. She lit a cigarette and exhaled fiercely. The hell with all those men!

Woodrow Wilson hopped up on her bed and nuzzled under her arm. The poor dog needed a walk, she knew. But would she be safe if she took the dog for a stroll by herself? She imagined a long black limousine pulling up alongside her, a pack of men in long coats jumping out, grabbing her, dragging her inside.

The dog laid its head on her lap.

The hell with Mickey Finn! Who was he to cage her up on such a brilliant, sunny day?

“Come on, Woody. Let’s go for a walk.”

The dog jumped down from the bed with a bark. He seemed to make a playful bow. His forelegs stretched out, his backside went up in the air, his stubby tail wagged expectantly and his snout curled almost in a grin.

While she got dressed, she tried to catch the thread of a nagging thought. Several things about the previous night bothered her, but there was something in particular. Something about someone Church had asked about ...

Was it something about Frank Case? Could the hotel manager have murdered someone in his own hotel to make headlines? That bothered her, true, but that wasn’t it.

Was it something about Robert Sherwood? Sherwood had certainly killed men in the war; that was a fact. But Sherwood, even if pushed far enough to kill, wouldn’t have murdered Mayflower in so cowardly a fashion. No, her mind was certain about Sherwood. But, she remembered something else. Church and O’Rannigan wanted to pull Sherwood in for questioning. She’d have to warn him. But, still, this wasn’t the thread she was trying to get hold of.

Was it something about Woollcott? Perhaps. O’Rannigan had said Mayflower went behind Woollcott’s back to land the Saber fountain pen endorsement contract. That had surprised her. Had Woollcott seriously wanted that endorsement deal? Would it compel him to murder with the very item in question? Hmm. Something didn’t add up there. Mayflower had been appearing in the Saber ads for months now. But on the day he was murdered, Mayflower had contacted Woollcott to brag about some new accomplishment.

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