Walking Dead Man by Hugh Pentecost Read Free Book Online Page A

three dozen widely assorted employees—ex-employees: waiters, bartenders, chefs, housemaids, bell boys, cleaning people, office help whom I’ve fired for slovenly work or for trying to steal from me. Murderous hatred? I doubt it. Of course somebody could have blown his stack.”
    “So you don’t think with Jerry that it was meant for you?”
    “It could have been,” Chambrun said.
    “But you think it’s more likely it was meant for Battle?”
    Chambrun watched the smoke curl up from his cigarette.
    “There are some interesting questions for you to answer, Lieutenant,” he said. “If it was meant for George why, after managing to get past the sentries, the bodyguard, Dr. Cobb and the two servants, did our killer only fire one shot that missed? Jerry guesses a thirty-eight police special. He could have fired four, five shots. Why didn’t he go on shooting when he saw he had missed?”
    “Maybe he had only one shell in the gun.”
    “Plan so carefully and come unprepared?”
    “Maybe he just wanted to scare Battle,” Hardy said.
    “Run all those risks just to scare him?” Chambrun shook his head. “Let me tell you one thing about George Battle. He has allowed people to believe that he is a timid, frightened man. He’s helped to create that belief. But when it comes to real danger, he’s got the guts of a burglar. Maybe that isn’t quite accurate, come to think of it. Maybe it’s that he’s so afraid of dying that he will run any kind of risk to stay alive.”
    “Maybe it was just meant as a warning,” Hardy said.
    “Quite possible. Even probably,” Chambrun said.
    “But was it meant for you or was it meant for Battle?”
    “Let’s consider something unrelated to that question,” Chambrun said. “The elevator to the penthouse was restricted to people okayed by Battle. The fire stairs were bolted on the inside. He couldn’t have come over the roof. I’ve said I’d trust Jerry and his men with my life.”
    Hardy’s eyes widened. “Are you saying nobody got into the penthouse from outside?”
    “I’m asking the question,” Chambrun said.
    Hardy stood up abruptly. “So he may be up there right now with the guy who took a shot at him.”
    “He should be safe enough with all your crew up there,” Chambrun said. “But if I were you, Lieutenant, I’d certainly like to talk to Butler, the bodyguard, Allerton, the manservant, Gaston, the chef—and Dr. Cobb. And George, when he comes to.”
    Hardy left quickly for a big man.
    It had come a little fast for me to take in. “You’re just trying to get him off your back,” I said. “You don’t believe for a minute one of those four guys took a shot at Battle. They’re the people he trusts.”
    “Judas was also trusted,” Chambrun said.

Four
    I N THEORY THE PEOPLE who work for the Beaumont are committed to silence about anything that goes wrong with its routines. A violence can be the beginning of a kind of panic if the word spreads among our hundreds of transient guests. Get hundreds of people making hysterical inquiries at the switchboard and our whole telephone system is disrupted; dozens of people will want to check out at once, jamming up our front desk and our bookkeeping department, demanding to get their precious belongings out of our safety deposit boxes. It can generate a madhouse that will continue long after whatever the trouble is has been cleared up.
    Perhaps it was asking too much that the attack on George Battle could have been kept a secret. The lobby, normally quiet at ten o’clock at night, had still been crowded with ladies hoping to get a glimpse of David Loring. The police had not sneaked into the hotel when they came. Ten minutes after they arrived, the word had spread like a forest fire. There was no time or reason to check out who had started the story going. Dozens of people on the staff knew that George Battle was in the penthouse and that extraordinary precautions were being taken to protect him, and when those