Markham smiled.
“I see you have been reading the newspapers. What do you think of the accounts?”
“Typical, no doubt,” replied Vance. “They carefully and painstakingly omit nothing but the essentials.”
“Indeed?” Markham’s tone was jocular. “And what, may I ask, do you regard as the essentials of the case?”
“In my foolish amateur way,” said Vance, “I looked upon dear Alvin’s toupee as a rather conspicuous essential, don’t y’ know.”
“Benson, at any rate, regarded it in that light, I imagine. … Anything else?”
“Well, there was the collar and the tie on the chiffonier.”
“And,” added Markham chaffingly, “don’t overlook the false teeth in the tumbler.”
“You’re pos’tively coruscatin’!” Vance exclaimed. “Yes, they, too, were an essential of the situation. And I’ll warrant the incomp’rable Heath didn’t even notice them. But the other Aristotles present were equally sketchy in their observations.”
“You weren’t particularly impressed by the investigation yesterday, I take it,” said Markham.
“On the contrary,” Vance assured him. “I was impressed to the point of stupefaction. The whole proceedings constituted a masterpiece of absurdity. Everything relevant was sublimely ignored. There were at least a dozen points de départ[43], all leading in the same direction, but not one of them apparently was even noticed by any of the officiating pourparleurs[44]. Everybody was too busy at such silly occupations as looking for cigarette-ends and inspecting the ironwork at the windows.—Those grilles, by the way, were rather attractive—Florentine design.”
Markham was both amused and ruffled.
“One’s pretty safe with the police, Vance,” he said. “They get there eventually.”
“I simply adore your trusting nature,” murmured Vance. “But confide in me: what do you know regarding Benson’s murderer?”
Markham hesitated.
“This is, of course, in confidence,” he said at length; “but this morning, right after you ’phoned, one of the men I had put to work on the amatory end of Benson’s life, reported that he had found the woman who left her hand-bag and gloves at the house that night,—the initials on the handkerchief gave him the clue. And he dug up some interesting facts about her. As I suspected, she was Benson’s dinner companion that evening. She’s an actress—musical comedy, I believe. Muriel St. Clair by name.”