She was young, she was rich, and also, since last night, she was missing. But the big story was her father. Darius Brunner II was dead, his handsome, graying head considerably battered by the violent application of a fireplace poker and the study of his fashionable lakeshore apartment thereby transformed into a chamber of death. The latter fact was fully attested by on-the-spot pictures. Time of death had not been established, but it was known that he had shared an informal dinner with his comely secretary, Miss Leta Huntly, twenty-eight, shortly after eight p.m. “We had worked later than usual at the office,” Miss Huntly explained when questioned by the police, “and Mr. Brunner insisted on taking me to dinner and then driving me home. It was about nine-thirty when he dropped me at my apartment, and I assumed that he was going straight home. I can’t imagine who could have done such a terrible thing to Mr. Brunner! He was a wonderful man!” At this point, Miss Huntly gave way to tears, artfully preserved by an alert cameraman.
