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I was
gradually becoming aware of the fact that I liked the excitement
of the life as much as Kennedy did.
I knew it when the sudden sharp tinkle of the telephone set my
heart throbbing almost as quickly as the little bell hammer
buzzed.
"Jameson, for Heaven's sake find Kennedy immediately and bring him
over here to the Novella Beauty Parlour. We've got the worst case
I've been up against in a long time. Dr. Leslie, the coroner, is
here, and says we must not make a move until Kennedy arrives."
I doubt whether in all our long acquaintance I had ever heard
First Deputy O'Connor more wildly excited and apparently more
helpless than he seemed over the telephone that night.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Never mind, never mind. Find Kennedy," he called back almost
brusquely. "It's Miss Blanche Blaisdell, the actress--she's been
found dead here. The thing is an absolute mystery. Now get him,
GET HIM."
It was still early in the evening, and Kennedy had not come in,
nor had he sent any word to our apartment.


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