THE phone bell rang. Cardona answered. The others watched him intently. They saw the detective’s face light up. His replies were short, quick exclamations.
“You’ll call again in fifteen minutes?” was his final comment.
Receiving an affirmative reply, Cardona hung up the phone and turned to Inspector Klein.
“They’ve found Buchanan’s body!” he declared. “And it’s in Philadelphia. They’re going to call me again, with the details. This is big, chief. Everything I want now, except—”
“Jerry Middleton.”
“You guessed it. That and Buchanan’s body. Middleton must know the low-down on the whole affair. How, I’ve no idea. Maybe Glendenning tried to get him. If he hadn’t got away, that night at Blefken’s—”
“You’ll find him, Joe!”
Inspector Klein spoke encouragingly. He knew that the Middleton matter was a sore point. Cardona had accomplished wonders in this case. His blunder had been forgotten, even by the newspapers, and the inspector didn’t want to recall the incident.
But the fact still remained that Jerry Middleton would be a useful witness against Clinton Glendenning.
“I’m doing everything I can,” declared Cardona. “We’re trying to find that taxi driver. He might help us out. It’s funny, in a way, that he hasn’t showed up. Scared, I guess. That’s the only way I can figure it.”