CARDONA TRACES MURDER
THE sensational death of Charles Blefken was the greatest crime news of the year. The dead attorney had been a man of high repute. The killing that had taken place in his own home, with friends and a detective present, was evidence that a bold and relentless killer was at work.
Cardona had been busy on the case all that night. The next noon found him at headquarters. A few short hours of sleep had renewed his vigor. Grim-visaged as ever, the star detective spoke with thin, firm lips as he talked to the reporters.
“I was there because we expected trouble,” was Cardona’s admission. “But get this straight, boys: Blefken walked into it! He did the wise thing when he called on me. His mistake was in what followed. If he hadn’t left that room, he’d be alive to-day!”
“Look here, Cardona,” said one of the police reporters. “We’ve printed your statement. We’ve been sent down here to get more — if you’ve got anything else to say. There’s one point they’re all asking. Why did you let Middleton get out of that room?”
“Let’s see one of the morning newspapers,” retorted Cardona. “I haven’t had time to look at any of them.”
A reporter pulled a newspaper from his pocket. Cardona spread the sheet and stared at the front page. All of the reporters were eyeing him closely.
A frown appeared upon Cardona’s swarthy visage. The detective’s lips grew tighter, and for a moment he appeared on the point of rage. Then he gave vent to his feelings by crumpling the paper and casting it in the corner. His fists tightened as he glared at his inquisitors. After that, his natural calmness returned.
“I’ve come in for a panning, eh?” he questioned. “That’s a nice play-up you’ve given this case. Making me look like a dummy! Incompetent, eh?”
“It’s not my fault, Cardona,” retorted the reporter who had spoken before. “I’m sent out to get facts. Maybe you’re right about Blefken walking into trouble. But look at the facts — that’s what we’re after.