was clicking her silent
keys in lightning manner, taking down every comment as it was uttered.

Eventually Olson returned, to put an end to the thick silence. "Y'car's
outside," he told me angrily.

"Fine," I said. "Now we'll go outside and take a look. You'll find
plenty of traces of Miss Farrow's having been there. Officer--are you
telepath or perceptive?"

"Perceptive," he said. "But not in here."

"How far out does this damned dead area extend?" I asked Walton.

"About half way across the sidewalk."

"Okay. So let's all go."

We traipsed out to the curb. Miss Mason brought her little silent along,
slipping the stand high up so that she could type from an erect
position. We lined up along the curb and I looked into my car with a
triumphant feeling.

And then that cold chill congealed my spine again. My car was clean and
shining. It had been washed and buffed and polished until it looked as
new as the day I picked it out on the salesroom floor.

Walton looked blank, and I whipped a thought at him: #Damned telepath!#

He nodded perceptibly and said smoothly, "I'm rather sorry we couldn't
find any fingerprints. Because now, you see," and here he turned to the
policeman and went on, "Mr. Cornell will now accuse us of having washed
his car to destroy the evidence. However, you'll find that as a general
policy of the hotel, the car-washing is performed as a standard service.
In fact, if any guest parks his car in our garage and his car is not
rendered spick and span, someone is going to get fired for negligence."

So that was that. I took a fast look around, because I knew that I had
to get out of there fast. If I remained to carry on any more argument,
I'd be tapped for being a nuisance and jugged.

I had no doubt at all that the whole hotel staff were all involved in
Nurse Farrow's disappearance. But they'd done their job in such a way
that if the question were pushed hard, I would end up answering formal
charges, the topmost of which might be murder and concealment of the
body.

I could do nothing by sitting in jail. This was the time to get out
first and worry about Farrow later.

So I opened the car door and slipped in. I fiddled with the so-called
glove compartment and opened it; the maps were all neatly stacked and
all the flub had been cleaned out. I fumbled inside and dropped a couple
of road maps to the floor, and while I was down picking them up I turned
the ignition key which Olson had left plu