The Norths Meet Murder by Lockridge Frances & Lockridge Richard

Author:Lockridge, Frances & Lockridge, Richard [Lockridge, Frances & Lockridge, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780854684656
Amazon: 0854684654
Goodreads: 1817999
Publisher: Imprint unknown
Published: 1940-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

11

THURSDAY: 10:45 A.M. TO NOON

WEIGAND tucked the slip of paper which had invited Stanley Brent to his death into a fresh envelope, holding both slip and envelope carefully by the edges, and dropped the envelope into a pocket. He started out, thought better of it and went to the door of the squad room. He beckoned Detective Stein, a tall, dark young man, to come along. Stein came along, pleased, but a little curious. Weigand answered the inquiry in his face by saying that Mullins was on another job, and that they were going uptown to talk to a man, not about a dog. Stein said, “Right,” and Weigand grinned at him.

The appointment was at Berex’s office, in a tall, rather old office building in Broadway, near Madison Square. It was, Weigand saw, a building of no special character—the directory listed men and firms in a variety of businesses. The white letters opposite Room 714 spelled out the name of Louis Berex and stopped, noncommittal as to the nature of Mr. Berex’s activities. The detectives rode up to the seventh floor in an elevator which was in no hurry, and found Room 714 in the rear. Only one door gave entrance into it and black lettering on the door merely repeated Berex’s name. Furthermore, the door was locked.

“What the hell?” Weigand said. He looked at his watch and discovered that they were a few minutes early. Then they heard the elevator stop again at the floor and a thin, wiry, sandy man came along the corridor. He stopped when he came up to them.

“Looking for me?” he said.

“Are you Berex?” Weigand said. The wiry man nodded and said he was sorry if he was late. It dawned on Weigand that Berex had come to the office solely to meet detectives.

Berex pushed open the door and waved Weigand and Detective Stein into an almost bare room. There was a desk, bare, too, and a steel filing cabinet and by the window there was a drawing-board. There were a couple of chairs, not inviting to repose. There was nobody in the office until the three went in, and Berex closed the door behind them. It was a bright day, but the room was dim and Berex switched on a shaded light hanging over the drawing-board. He sat down on the desk and motioned the detectives to chairs.

“So,” he said, “the police.”

“Right,” Weigand told him. “We want to ask you some questions. You’ve read about the Brent case?”

“Brent?” Berex said. “No, I don’t think so. Somebody—your man, I suppose—said Lieutenant Weigand wanted to talk to me and I could set a place or come to Headquarters. He didn’t say why.”

“And you just came?” Weigand said, not too believingly.

Berex looked at him and said: “Of course.”

“I thought it might be something about my car,” he said. “I always think of the police and cars together, for some reason. But you say it’s about a man named Brent?”

He was, Weigand decided, a singularly casual man;

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