He then turned to Vance with a cordial smile, and held out his hand.[1]
"So the amachoor sleuth is with us again!" His tone held a friendly banter.
"Oh, quite," murmured Vance. "How's your induction coil working this beautiful September morning, Sergeant?"
"I'd hate to tell you!" Then Heath's face grew suddenly grave, and he turned to Markham. "It's a raw deal, sir. Why in hell couldn't they have picked some one besides the Canary for their dirty work? There's plenty of Janes on Broadway who coulda faded from the picture without causing a second alarm; but they gotta go and bump off the Queen of Sheba!"
As he spoke, William M. Moran, the commanding officer of the Detective Bureau, came into the little foyer and performed the usual hand-shaking ceremony. Though he had met Vance and me but once before, and then casually, he remembered us both and addressed us courteously by name.
"Your arrival," he said to Markham, in a well-bred, modulated voice, "is very welcome. Sergeant Heath will give you what preliminary information you want. I'm still pretty much in the dark myself—only just arrived."
"A lot of information I've got to give," grumbled Heath, as he led the way into the living-room.
Margaret Odell's apartment was a suite of two fairly large rooms connected by a wide archway draped with heavy damask portières. The entrance
- ↑ Heath had become acquainted with Vance during the investigation of the Benson murder case two months previously.
