Beery said: “How did he know which apartment was hers?”
“He had us tailed from my hotel early this evening. His man got her number from the mail-boxes in the lobby, gave it to him before we got to his place tonight.”
Beery nodded.
Kells said: “Am I boring you?”
“Yes. Bore me some more.”
“Bellmann had come up here after some things he wanted — some very personal things that he couldn’t trust anyone else to get. He probably paid his way into the apartment — I’ll have to check up on that — and didn’t find what he was looking for, and when Fenner knocked he thought it was either Granquist, who he wanted to talk to anyway, or whoever let him in.”
Kells took a deep breath. “He opened the door, and...” Kells paused, got up and went to Fenner, looked down at the little twisted man and smiled. “Mister Fenner knows a good thing when he sees it — he jockeyed Bellmann into a good spot and shot him through the heart.” Fenner mumbled something through his hands. “He waited for a nice roll of off-stage thunder and murdered him.”
Beery said: “That’s certainly swell. And I haven’t got any more job than a rabbit.” He stood up, stared disconsolately at Kells. “My God! Bellmann killed by the boss of the opposition — the most perfect political break that could happen, for my paper — and I turn in an innocent girl, swing it exactly the other way politically. My God!”
Beery sat down and reached for the telephone. Kells said: “Wait a minute.”
Beery held up his right hand, the forefinger pointed, brought it down emphatically towards Kells. “Nuts!”