rel="nofollow" href="#n_20" type="note">[20], plus two interns, plus the usual stretcher appeared in the doorway.
Pulski reluctantly pushed himself off the doorpost and took the M.O., a fussy little guy with a lemon-sour face, into the inner room to view the remains. Retnick adjusted a pearl stickpin in his tie.
“She shouldn’t be difficult to trace,” he said as if he were talking to himself. “When a yellow skin is as pretty as this one, she gets noticed. When did you say this guy Hardwick was going to call on you?”
“Tomorrow – Friday.”
“Think he will?”
“Not a chance.”
He nodded his head.
“Yeah.” He looked at his watch, then yawned. “You look like hell. Suppose you go get yourself a cup of coffee? Don’t go far and don’t flap your mouth[21]. I’ll be ready to talk to you in about half an hour.”
I wasn’t kidded for a moment. He wasn’t being considerate: he wanted me out of the way.
“I guess I can use some coffee,” I said. “Okay for me to go home and take a shower?”
“Who cares how bad you smell?” he said. “Just coffee and where you can be seen.”
I took the elevator to the ground floor. Although it was only twenty minutes to eight o’clock, a small crowd had collected to stare at the waiting ambulance and the four police cars parked in front of the building.
As I walked to the Quick Snack Bar I heard heavy footfalls behind me. I didn’t bother to look around. I expected to drink my coffee under police supervision.
I entered the bar and eased myself up onto a stool. Sparrow, his eyes bugging, tore himself from the window where he was watching the ambulance and looked expectantly at me.
“What’s cooking, Mr. Ryan?’ he asked, his breath hissing between his teeth.
“A coffee, strong and black and fast,” I said, “then two fried eggs on ham.”
The big plain-clothes man[22] who had followed me didn’t come into the bar. He stood just outside where he could watch me.
Containing his patience with an effort that brought dark circles to his armpits, Sparrow drew coffee and then got busy with the eggs and ham.
“Someone dead, Mr. Ryan?” he asked as be broke the eggs onto the hot-plate.
“What time do you shut down for the night?” I asked, watching the cop outside who scowled at me through the plate-glass window.
“Ten o’clock sharp,” Sparrow said, doing an unconscious little jig with impatience. “What’s going on across the way?”
“A Chinese woman got herself murdered.” I drank some of the coffee. It was hot and strong and good. “I found her in my office half an hour ago.”
His Adam’s apple did a rock ’n’ roll. “No kidding, Mr. Ryan?”
“Gospel truth.[23]” I finished the coffee and pushed the cup towards him. “And again.”
“A Chinese woman?”
“Yeah. Don’t ask questions. I know as much as you do about it. Did you see a Chinese woman go in my office block after I had left?”
He shook his head as he refilled my cup.
“No. I think I’d have seen her if she had gone in before I shut up. I hadn’t much to do last night.”
I began to sweat gently. I had an alibi up to half past eight: the time the girl and the poodle had passed me. I had reckoned the Chinese woman had been in my office at that time. After half past eight, I had only me to say I had been sitting all night outside Jack S. Myers Jnr.’s empty bungalow.
“Did you notice any stranger going in there from the time I left to the time you closed?”
“Can’t say I did. Around nine the janitor locked up as usual.” He served the ham and eggs. “Who killed her?”
“I don’t know.” I had suddenly lost my appetite. The set-up now began to look bad for me. I knew Retnick. He was essentially a guy who clutched at straws. If I hadn’t a cast-iron alibi that would convince an idiot child, he would pounce on me.
“You could have missed seeing her, couldn’t you?”
“I guess that’s right. I wasn’t looking out of the window all the time.”
Two men came in and ordered breakfast. They asked Sparrow what was going on. After a glance at me, he said he didn’t know. One of the men, a fat fellow wearing a Brando leather jacket said, “Someone’s got knocked off.[24] That’s the blood-wagon outside”.
I pushed aside my plate. I just couldn’t eat food right now. I finished the coffee and slid off the stool. Sparrow looked unhappily at me. “Something wrong, Mr. Ryan?”
“Just too ambitious I guess,” I said. “Put it on the slate[25]”, and I went out onto the street.
The big cop closed in on me. “Where do you imagine you’re going?” he demanded.
“Back to my office,” I told him. “That worry you?”
“When the Lieutenant’s ready for you, I’ll tell you. Go sit in one of them cars.”
I went to one of the police cars and sat in the back. The forty-odd people standing staring, stared at me instead of the ambulance. I lit a cigarette and tried to ignore them.
I sat there smoking and letting my mind work on the past and the present without allowing it to move into the future. The more I considered my position the less I liked it. I had a feeling of being in a trap.
After nearly an hour the two interns came out carrying the stretcher. The Chinese woman, under the sheet, looked small and child-like. The crowd made the usual noise a crowd makes when it is being morbid. The interns loaded the stretcher into the ambulance and drove away. A few minutes later the M.O. came out, and getting in his car, drove after the ambulance. There was another long wait, then the Homicide boys came out. One of them signalled to the big cop who was standing watching me. They all crammed into their cars and drove away. The big cop opened the car door and jerked his thumb at me. “Get moving,” he said. “The Lieutenant wants you.”
As I started across the sidewalk, Jay Wayde, the Industrial Chemist, who had the office next to mine came from his car. He joined me in the elevator.
He was three or four years younger than myself: a big, athletic college type with a crewcut, a suntanned complexion and alert eyes. Every now and then we would meet as we left our offices and would ride down in the elevator together to our cars. He seemed a pretty regular fellow and like Sparrow, he had shown an interest in my way of life. I guess most respectable people can’t resist the so-called glamour of an investigator’s life. He often asked me what excitement I had had, and in the short time we were in the elevator and walking
don’t flap your mouth – (
plain-clothes man – (
Gospel truth. – (
Someone’s got knocked off. – (
Put it on the slate – (
