Part 5 (1/2)
”Does the owner run this building, or has he placed an agent in charge?”
”A real estate agent manages it,” the janitor informed him. ”Parker Cole--over on Broadway.”
”Thanks,” said Morgan, and returned down the alley to Lawrence Avenue where he turned west and walked over to Broadway. A few minutes later he stood at the counter in the real estate office, and a man approached him.
”Is either Mr. Parker or Mr. Cole in?”
”I am Mr. Cole,” announced the man. ”What can I do for you?”
Morgan opened his coat a minute to give Cole a glimpse of his badge; then said, ”I would like to talk confidentially with you for a few minutes.”
”Step into my private office,” directed Cole, opening a gate as he spoke, and indicating a s.p.a.ce part.i.tioned off at the rear.
”What is the trouble?” he inquired, when they were seated.
”I came to see you in connection with the trouble in the Hillcrest last night.”
”A most unfortunate affair!” exclaimed Cole. ”It is the first time anything of the kind ever occurred in any of the buildings under our management. It is most unfortunate,” he repeated.
”I have been a.s.signed to the case,” Morgan informed him, ”and I am gathering all the information possible. Then I can formulate some theory upon which to work. Just at this time I want a little information regarding your tenants in the building.”
”Very fine people--very fine people, indeed,” protested Cole. ”There couldn't be a breath of suspicion against any of them.”
”I'll be the judge of that,” said Morgan, sharply.
”But really,” cried Cole, ”you must not annoy our tenants. Surely it was only a quarrel among burglars. One man probably wounded his pal and then, alarmed at the disturbance he had created, hurried him away.”
Morgan smiled. This was a very ingenious and plausible solution of the mystery--at least in the real estate agent's eyes. However, Morgan now sought facts, not amateur theories, and disregarding the real estate man's talk, he pushed his quest for information.
”I have a report in my pocket which covers all that I want to know about most of your tenants; at least for the present. There are two families, however, about whom I want further information. The first is the Atwood family, in the third floor south.”
”Atwood--Atwood,” repeated Cole, as if he did not place the name.
Then he called, ”Joe, bring me the rent book.”
Morgan became alert. It was possible that a man like Cole, with a large list of properties under his management, might be somewhat vague in his recollection of the names of a few of his tenants. This case was different. The Atwoods, according to the girl's story, had sub-leased their apartment quite recently, presumably with the agent's sanction. The present excitement should naturally have recalled this matter to Cole's mind--should even have concentrated his thoughts upon the names and characteristics of every tenant in this particular building. Cole's unfamiliarity with the name of Atwood, therefore, seemed peculiar.
At this moment a boy entered with a large volume. Laying it on Cole's desk, the boy pa.s.sed quietly out of the office. Cole glanced at the index and then turned over certain pages in the book.
”We have no Atwood in that house,” he declared, finally, looking up at Morgan. ”You must have made a mistake.”
Before replying, Morgan pulled out a small notebook and spread it open on his knee, ready for use. He also extracted a pencil from his vest pocket. Glancing at the point to see that it was in working condition, he turned to Cole with the question, ”Who does occupy the third floor south in that house?”
”A family named Crocker.”
”Full name, please.”
”Joseph Crocker. He rented that apartment one year ago the first of this month,” stated Cole, after further reference to the book.
Morgan jotted this down in his notebook.