Lieutenant Rawlins, one of the plain-clothesmen, spotted me and said, ``Hi, Shell,'' and walked toward me. ``How'd you hear about this one?'' I grinned, but ignored the question. He didn't push it; Rawlins worked out of Central Homicide and we'd been friends for years.

He filled me in. A call to the police had been placed from here a couple of minutes after nine p. m., and the first police car had arrived two or three minutes after that -- 10 minutes ago now. Present at the scene -- in addition to the dead man, who was indeed Louis Thor -- had been Thor's partner Bill Blake, and Antony Rose, an advertising agency executive who handled the ZING account. Neither of them, I understood, had been present at the filming session earlier.

``What were they doing here?'' I asked Rawlins.

``They were supposed to meet Thor at nine p. m. for a conference concerning the ad campaign for their soap, a new angle based on this SX-21 stuff.''

``Yeah, I've heard more about SX-21 than space exploration lately. What is the gunk?''

``How would I know? It's a secret. That was the new advertising angle -- something about a Lloyd's of London policy to insure the secrecy of the secret ingredient. Actually, only two men know what the formula is, Blake and'' -- He stopped and looked at Thor's body.

I said, ``O. K., so now only Blake knows. How's it strike you, foul or fair?''

``Can't say yet. Deputy coroner says it looks like he sucked in a big pile of those thick suds and strangled on' em. The PM might show he drowned instead, but that's what the once-over-lightly gives us. Accident, murder, suicide -- take your pick.''