Gemstone Butterfly

“Did you know Miss Lynn before she came to work here?” “That’s exactly what I was about to mention,” said Halsey. “Go on.” “I knew Miss Lynn before she came to this city. In fact, she asked me about a job position, and I told her I would be very happy to recommend her to our head of personnel, and suggested that, all other things being equal — you understand, Mr. Nelson?” Nelson nodded. “All other things being equal,” Halsey continued, “I would be willing to hire her. Of course, in a company of this size, the personnel department handles everything. They are well aware of the vacancies and the skills required for them. I think they also have ways to test for it.” “Is the issue that you vouched for her to the personnel department, which is why she got the job?” “That sounds a bit odd.” Nelson turned to Peggy: “Has Stella Lynn shown any signs of melancholy or anxiety?” “I don’t know her well, Mr. Nelson. I occasionally see her and chat with her. She was always in high spirits; I think she was probably the last person to commit suicide.” “I’m not considering suicide.” “Oh, no one worries about being murdered.” “I’m not considering murder either.” Halsey cleared his throat: “Oh, so what are you thinking now?” Nelson glanced at Peggy Castle: “I’m thinking about something else,” he said, “something that might have deeply worried Miss Lynn.” “My goodness!” Peggy said eagerly, “I understand English, and I have common sense. Are you telling us she was pregnant?” Nelson nodded. Halsey propped his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands. “Good heavens!” he muttered. “You look troubled,” Nelson said. “He’s considering the company’s reputation,” Peggy explained, “thinking about how this matter will be reported.” “Oh, I see,” Nelson said coldly, turning to Peggy, “I’d like to hear your account, Miss Castle, from the beginning.” “There’s not much to say. Mr. Kimberley and I decided to stop by and check on Stella Lynn, and we found her lying dead on the floor. We called the police.” “Your account is evidently too brief,” Nelson said. “I don’t know how to elaborate on it.” “You don’t know much about Stella Lynn?” “Yes, not much.” “Then how did you coincidentally decide to visit her?” “It was Mr. Kimberley’s suggestion.” “Why did he want to see her last night then?” She said, “I suppose Mr. Kimberley felt there was no need for me to know about this matter.” “Maybe he should be less reserved when speaking to me,” Nelson remarked. “Perhaps.” Nelson turned towards the door: “Well, I just want to investigate what you all know about Stella Lynn’s background.” He said, “I need to talk to Kimberley, I’ll be back soon.” He left without saying goodbye. As soon as the door closed, Halsey picked up the phone and said to the receptionist, “A man named Nelson just left my office; he wants to see Mr. Kimberley. I want him delayed until I can find Kimberley on the phone — what’s wrong? … Oh, I see … Oh, that explains it. Alright.” Halsey hung up the phone, looked at Peggy, and said, “No wonder he didn’t ask for Kimberley to be present during our conversation. Mr. Kimberley isn’t in the office this morning. No one knows where he is.” He paused, mulling over the message, then said, “Of course, that’s just a temporary measure; he wants some buffer time. I noticed you didn’t mention that letter to Detective Nelson, Miss Castle.” “I couldn’t mention it.” “Why not?” “Her account of what happened doesn’t match Kimberley’s. Kimberley said Stella Lynn called him around 10 a.m. saying she wanted to see him. He suggested going to the Royal Pheasant Club, but the letter informed me that Kimberley and Stella Lynn would meet for dinner at the Royal Pheasant Club, and the letter was sent the day before.” Halsey looked at her thoughtfully for a moment: “Your mind is very sharp, Miss Castle.” Her face reddened slightly: “Thank you.” “What’s on your mind now?” she said, “I was thinking about Stella Lynn’s desk; I want to clear it out. There must be some of her personal items; I want to take a look before the police do. No one has said anything about—” “Good idea,” Halsey said, “Hurry up. You don’t need to ask my permission for what you’re going to do. I don’t want to know about all the measures you will take. Take that desk, for example. If you find a diary or something — well, you’ll know what to do.” Halsey looked at her over the top of his glasses: “I trust you’ll know what to do.” Peggy placed a cardboard box on Stella Lynn’s desk and began clearing out the drawers. She was acutely aware of the typists nearby sneakily watching her every move. There was an old magazine, a pair of comfortable work shoes, a paper bag containing a pair of nylon stockings, a receipt for her apartment rent, a small camera in a box, and half a pack of tissues. No diary, but the drawer was a mess, as if someone had rifled through it in a hurry an hour ago. Peggy wondered why Halsey thought there might be a diary in the desk. She emptied the contents of the desk into the box, tied it with a coarse rope, and wrote “Stella Lynn” on the side of the box in block letters with a crayon. All of this was to give some impression to the typists at the nearby desks. Peggy took the box back to her office. After securely closing the door, she opened the package and inspected the camera. The small round window on the back of the camera showed the number 10, indicating 9 photos had already been taken. Peggy turned the knob until the film was wound onto the take-up spool, removed the film from the camera, and carefully wiped the camera to remove her fingerprints. She put the camera back in the box, tied the box with the rope, and headed towards Halsey’s private office. She knocked softly on the door, but there was no response.
She tried the doorknob, which turned slightly, and she gently pushed the door open. Halsey was not in his office. She returned to her desk where a note pinned under a memo pad caught her eye. She pulled it out. It was a hastily scribbled note from Halsey: