Murder in Murray Hill (Gaslight Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

frowned, then adjusted his spectacles and peered at the tiny scraps of paper. He quickly separated them into two groups. “These are,” he said, indicating one pile. “And these are not.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “We use a particular style with our lonely hearts advertisements. Other newspapers try to copy it, but I can still tell which are ours.”
    Frank was happy to see that Pendergast’s ads were from the
World
. He separated them from the others. “Can you tell me who placed these ads?”
    His frown deepened. “May I ask what this is about?”
    “Sure, but I don’t have to tell you.”
    He pulled himself up to his full height. “The people who place these advertisements with us rely on our discretion. We only identify each client by a box number so they may remain anonymous to any individuals whose acquaintance they do not wish to make. How do I know you aren’t just a lovesick swain who wants to force his attentions on some unwilling female?”
    Frank sighed in exasperation. “Do I look like a lovesick swain?”
    “How can I possibly judge? You are becoming angry, which I assure you is an indication of thwarted desire.”
    Frank definitely felt as if his desires were being thwarted, but he took a firm hand on his temper and said, “If you will look closely at the ads in question, you’ll see they are seeking
female
companionship. And just so you understand how serious this is, a young woman who answered these ads and had arranged to meet the man who placed them is missing.”
    “Missing?”
    “Yes, which means that at least one person placing ads in your newspaper is using them to kidnap women.”
    The fellow swallowed. “You . . . you have no way of knowing . . . I mean, she might have eloped. That’s hardly kidnapping.”
    “If she eloped, then no harm done, but either way, she’s got a family who wants to find her. Now get me the name and address of the person who placed these ads.”
    By now the other clerks had all stopped serving their customers to listen to what Frank was telling their supervisor. Which was fine, because all the customers were listening, too. The nearest clerk snatched up one of the ads and read it. “It’s Tom,” he told the others, drawing a chuckle or two from the half dozen clerks.
    “You know him?” Frank asked.
    “Oh, we know him all right,” the clerk holding the ad said. “He’s in here about every week to pick up his love letters.”
    “What’s his name? Tom what?” Frank asked, pulling out his notebook and pencil.
    “Tom Cat,” he said, drawing snickers from the other clerks. “At least that’s what we call him. Always looking for a new pussy to warm his bed.”
    “That’s enough, Kirk,” the supervisor said, silencing the snickers instantly. “Get this gentleman the name and address of this man.”
    The clerks exchanged some furtive glances. “That’s just it. We don’t know his name. Well, we do know the name he uses, because the letters that come in are addressed to him.”
    “Milo Pendergast,” Frank said.
    “How’d you know?” the clerk asked in surprise.
    “But you don’t think that’s his real name?” Frank said.
    “Do you? It don’t sound real, at least. And we don’t have an address because he didn’t want the letters forwarded. He always comes to pick them up and pay for his ads.”
    “How do you know which letters are his?”
    “Everybody who places an ad gets a box number, so we know which letters go to which box. Most people give us an address, and we forward the letters to them, but not this Milo fellow. He says he doesn’t trust the mail or something.”
    Frank managed not to sigh again. This Milo Pendergast, or whatever his name was, had turned out to be smarter than Frank had imagined. “How often does he come in? You said every week.” If he came on a particular day, then . . .
    “We put his ad in the paper once a week, but he comes in whenever he feels like it, I guess. Sometimes he comes every