by Hank Janson
‘The Chief wouldn’t do that,’ I said. ‘He wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘of course I wouldn’t.’
She took my arm as we went out. She also said loudly enough for the Chief to hear: ‘He’s a nice man, isn’t he? But he’s not very romantic.’
The fellas in the newsroom watched me as I walked through with her. They were admiring and jeering at the same time. I wanted to be around in the office. All kinds of things were liable to break. I wanted to be in the thick of it. I didn’t want to be trailing back to Lulu’s flat and learning just how good her tactics were.
When we got outside she said: ‘Let’s take a taxi.’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I said. ‘Let’s go by subway. It’s so long since I travelled by subway. You don’t mind do you, honey?’
She did mind. She didn’t like it one little bit. She looked at me reproachfully. But when she saw I was set on it she squeezed my arm and said: ‘Of course not, honey. Anything you like.’
We got our tickets, went down on the platform and I was able to steer her into the wrong train. I kept her talking in animated conversation until we’d gone a good way in the wrong direction. When we came to an interchange station I pointed out my mistake. We got off the train and changed platforms. There were lots of folk around. We all pushed into the next train. I pushed Lulu in front of me. I did it carefully. I did it so carefully that when the doors began to close she was on the inside of the train and I was on the outside.
She stared at me unhappily through the glass as the train began to gather speed. I gestured with my shoulders and gave her a despairing look. As soon as the train had gone I raced off to another platform. You see, I’d taken the precaution of switching her onto yet another wrong train.
Thirty-five minutes later I was back in the office.
8
The Chronicle challenge edition hit the streets before I got back into the office. You’d have thought war had started the way folks were lining up to buy it.
We all had our hands full. Already the print order was increased by 20 percent, and we started pumping out an extra edition, varying the page set-up and plugging the challenge to the police.
The Chief was getting a lot of publicity himself. He’d gone down to the safe deposit to seal away the name of the murderer.
It hadn’t all been easy. He’d been having a rough time. The DA and the Mayor had rung him personally after reading the Chronicle. And right now there was a barrage of movie cameras waiting to record on celluloid the sealing of the deposit box. A hurried arrangement had been made for him to say a few words over the radio network
I slipped downstairs to the staff room for a sandwich and a glass of beer. I saw Dane there, looking pale and propping up the bar with a glass of Bourbon in front of him.
‘What’s eating you?’ I asked, taking the stool next to him.
His hands were quivering when he raised the glass to his lips. ‘Stop getting at me, Hank,’ he said. ‘I’ve just had a lotta strain, that’s all. That trouble with Stella …’
‘Yeah,’ I said sympathetically. ‘Dames cause lots of trouble. Sorry you had to feel so bad about it.’
‘I should have wised up to her sooner,’ he growled.
‘How’s your jaw?’ I asked.
He rubbed his chin and grinned wryly. ‘You pack a punch, fella!’
‘I had to sock you,’ I said. ‘You just weren’t in a mood to see sense.’
‘Sure,’ he agreed. ‘You had to do it.’
‘That reminds me. By the way, just where were you last night?’
He gave me a quick look and there was furtiveness in his eyes. ‘What d’ya mean? Where d’ya think I was?’
‘I rang last night,’ I said quietly. ‘I didn’t get any reply.’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe the phone was out of order. I was home all right.’
‘I kept trying,’ I told him. ‘It couldn’t have been the phone.’
‘Maybe I didn’t hear it,’ he said. ‘I was taking a shower.’
‘I rang early in the morning,’ I said. ‘I rang not long after I left you and I rang a coupla hours later.’
‘Musta been the phone,’ he said. ‘I was home all right.’
I looked at him steadily. ‘You wouldn’t kid me?’
He scowled. ‘You don’t believe me?’
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘What’s it matter, anyway? Skip it. You drinking any more of that Bourbon poison?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Same again.’
He would have sat there and gloomed, not talking, if I’d let him. But I made him talk.
‘They’re churning them out,’ I said, ‘They’re selling as quickly as we print.’
‘I hope you’re on a good thing, Hank,’ he doubted.
‘What d’ya mean? Of course it’s a good thing! We’re riding every other paper off the streets.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I’m not so sure about Skinner,’ he said. He said it doubtfully. ‘I don’t know that the evidence you’ve got is enough to pin it on the guy.’
‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘You couldn’t want it clearer. You don’t expect a flashlight photograph of him doing it, do you?’
He still looked doubtful. ‘I’ve got a feeling about that guy, Hank,’ he said. ‘He doesn’t look to me the kinda guy that would bump off anyone.’
‘Nobody ever does,’ I said. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘It’d better be,’ he said. He looked at me meaningfully. ‘For your sake.’
‘What d’ya mean?’
‘The Chronicle is backing two hundred grand on this slant. That’s a lotta dough.’
‘It’s safe enough,’ I said. ‘Don’t you worry about it.’
‘Why should I worry? It’s not my dough.’
I left him there, still moodily sipping Bourbon. By the time I left, there was a neat little row of empty glasses at his elbow. But I didn’t pay much attention to it then. After all, he had woman trouble. He needed something to steady him up.
When I got back upstairs there was a little guy wandering around the corridor outside the newsroom, looking for something.
He caught sight of me and came rushing over like he’d found a friend he’d been searching for over the years.
‘Mr Janson,’ he said. ‘I must see you, Mr Janson.’
He looked vaguely familiar. I eyed him curiously and wondered where I’d seen him before.
‘I must see you,’ he said. ‘It’s most urgent.’
‘I’m pretty busy right now,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t you write a letter or something?’
He took me by the arm, his fingers eager and strong. ‘You remember me, don’t you? You must remember me.’
I looked at him doubtfully. ‘Well …’ I began.
‘Last night,’ he said. ‘You must remember. The party. I’m Mr Burden’s secretary.’
I remembered him then. The quiet little nondescript man who’d slipped out of the party.
‘Sure, sure. I remember you,’ I said. ‘But you don’t have to worry. Mr Burden never even noticed you’d left.’
‘It’s not that I want to see you about,’ he said. He pulled a copy of the Chronicle from under his arm. ‘It’s this,’ he said.
‘What about it?’
He glanced through the first page, found the point he wanted. ‘It says here a reward will be given to anyone who can give evidence to prove who the murderer is.’
‘That’s right. What about it?’
‘I’ve got some very valuable evidence,’ he said.
I looked at him, drew a deep breath and took him firmly by the arm. ‘You and me are gonna have a little talk,’ I said.
‘That’s why I wanted to see you,’ he said. ‘You helped me and so I want to help you.’
‘You sure are gonna be useful,’ I said.
I steered him into the newsroom. It was lunch-hour and there w
ere only a few fellas around. I knew the Chief was doing his stuff down at the safe deposit and decided to use his office. I propelled the quiet little man rapidly across the office and into the Chief’s room. I don’t think anybody noticed us.
I locked the door behind us, sat him down and offered him a cigarette. He didn’t smoke.
‘Now,’ I said, with satisfaction. ‘Just what have you got to tell me?’
‘I’m not really interested in the reward,’ he said. ‘It would be useful, of course.’
‘Adequate remuneration will be made for any information you give us,’ I assured him. ‘I know you don’t want paying for this, but you won’t object if we insist, will you, Mr …’
‘Carter,’ he said. ‘Thomas Carter.’
‘That’s a nice name,’ I said. I sat on the Chief’s desk, hitched up my trousers. ‘Now,’ I said eagerly. ‘Just what have you got for me?’
‘I went back to Mr Burden’s house last night,’ he said. ‘Or rather, early this morning.’
I leaned forward intently. ‘Do you remember what time?’
‘I got back about half-past six,’ he said. ‘There were one or two things I should have done last night so I got there early this morning. About half-past six.’
I began to sweat with excitement. I could tell from his expression he had something really informative.
‘Mr Burden was in his study. He was working.’ His eyes looked at me seriously. ‘Writing, you know.’
I nodded. ‘I assumed that.’
‘He was very annoyed with me,’ he said. ‘Told me to clear out. Told me to get another job.’
I clucked my tongue sympathetically. ‘Not a very nice man, Burden, was he?’
A look of black hatred came into his eyes. The kind of hate you’d never expect to see in the face of such an insignificant little man. ‘He was monster,’ he said with surprising vehemence. ‘He was a monster.’
‘He kinda had that reputation,’ I agreed.
‘So I left,’ said Mr Carter. ‘I left right away.’
That was rather like a damp squib. ‘Is that all?’ I asked, disappointed.
‘I’m just coming to it,’ he said. ‘As I went out of the house, I saw somebody going around the back. I wondered who it could be. I followed him. First of all he looked in the windows on the ground floor and then he tested the French windows at the back of the house. But they weren’t open.’
‘What time was this?’
‘About ten to seven,’ he said.
My heart began to flutter. I asked anxiously: ‘Did you recognise the man?’
‘That’s what I came to tell you,’ he said. ‘I recognised him all right. It was that theatre critic, Mr Dane Morris. He works with you, I believe.’
My heart ceased fluttering, stopped doing anything at all for what seemed a thousand years. Then it began to beat again, slowly, heavily and painfully. I listened to it thumping while I tried to get my breath back. At last I managed to say, in a very weak voice: ‘What did he say about it?’
Carter shrugged his shoulders. ‘He didn’t see me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t bother him. It was no affair of mine. I just left him to it.’
I licked my lips. ‘Listen, Mr Carter,’ I said. ‘Do you happen to know if Burden was still alive when you left him?’
‘I should hope he was,’ he said brightly. ‘I’d been with him just a few minutes before. He was good and alive then.’
He sat staring at me while I sat there with a dull sinking feeling in my belly. I was remembering the way Dane had asked if I had a gun, the way he had deliberately lied to me about not being at home, and now there was this. Dane actually on the scene of the crime just a few minutes before Burden died. It must have been a few minutes. The doctor figured he must have died around seven o’clock.
I was remembering other things, too. I was remembering the Chronicle’s challenge to the cops, the name of Skinner sealed in the safe deposit and the two hundred grand the Chronicle stood to lose if anything went wrong.
I tried to keep my belly from dropping down to my ankles, stood up and crossed to the door.
‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Carter.
‘You’d better wait here,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna get Mr Dane Morris.’
‘All right,’ he said mildly. ‘I’ll wait’
I crossed through the newsroom, opened the door to the corridor and saw Sharp and Conrad walking along the corridor towards me.
I knew Sharp was all set for trouble. He’d be as mad as a hatter about that article in the Chronicle. Almost at the same time, I realised we actually had in the office the guy who could put the finger on Dane Morris. Right then, I couldn’t think about anything except not giving Sharp a lead.
I turned back into the newsroom, ran across to the Editor’s office and locked the door behind me.
Carter looked at me with startled eyes. ‘Something the matter?’ he quavered.
I glanced around frantically. The Chief had a wardrobe in the corner of the room where he kept his coat and hat. It was small; little bigger a coffin.
‘You’ve gotta hide,’ I said to Carter. ‘You’ve gotta get right out of sight. There’s a coupla cops coming in here. You’ve gotta stay quiet, not make a sound. Understand?’
‘But why …?’ he began.
I was bundling him towards the wardrobe, opening the door and pushing him inside as he protested.
‘Why should I be afraid of the police?’ he managed to get out.
‘Listen, dope,’ I said, like I was trying to jam good sense into him. ‘You’re in a spot, see? I haven’t had time to figure this out. We’ve gotta play for time.’
‘But I haven’t got anything to worry about.’
‘That’s what you think,’ I said. ‘Figure it this way, Carter. You were the last guy to see Burden alive. Those cops are just dying to put a noose round somebody’s neck. Your neck will be as good as anyone’s. They’ll figure out 40 different ways you could have stuck a knife in Burden’s ribs.’
His face suddenly went white. ‘I – er – I’m –’
They were already knuckling at the frosted glass door of the Chief’s office.
‘Your life depends on it,’ I said fiercely. ‘Just stop in there and keep quiet.’
He eased back into the wardrobe. I shut the door, turned the key in the lock and put the key in my pocket. I wiped the sweat off my forehead, crossed to the office door, opened it so that Conrad and Sharp could burst in.
Sharp had the look of a mad dog. He glanced around like he was looking for something to tear to pieces. His eyes came back to me and he snarled wolfishly, ‘Where’s Healey?’
‘He’ll be back soon,’ I said calmly, trying to stop my heart from sounding like a bass drum. ‘Why don’t you guys sit down politely if you wanna see him?’
‘If I wanna see him!’ snarled Sharp. ‘I don’t wanna see him. I just wanna tear him apart, that’s all!’
‘All in good time,’ I said gently. ‘What say you boys sit down and get your breath back?’ I waved them to chairs, dived down in the Chief’s bottom drawer and came up with a box of cigars. That eased the atmosphere.
‘What do you want to see him about?’ I asked them when we’d lit up.
Sharp narrowed his eyelids and tried to drill holes through me with his eyes. ‘As if you don’t know!’ he sneered.
‘He looks innocent,’ said Conrad. ‘You can bet he had nothing to do with that article. Probably all he did was write it. Of course, he may have made a suggestion or two.’
‘When you come to think of it,’ said Sharp grimly, ‘it seems just like what this guy would do.’
They both sat there and stared at me venomously. I worked up a weak smile and said: ‘You boys think too highly of me.’
‘Just wait till I get through,’ said Sharp grimly. ‘You’ll see just how highly we think of you. Just about as high as the gallows are.’
‘You boys are such kidd
ers,’ I drawled.
Conrad suddenly shot at me: ‘Is Dane around?’
My heart knocked at the wall of my chest. ‘Dane?’ I asked, with a sickly smile.
‘Dane Morris,’ said Sharp firmly. ‘Get him up here. We wanna talk with him.’
The name Skinner was locked away in the safety vault. If the Chronicle was gonna be saved from ridicule and the loss of two hundred grand, I’d have to have time to figure things out. I got another sickly smile. ‘Dane Morris,’ I said. ‘Oh, he’s not around.’
‘What d’ya mean, he’s not around?’
‘He’s out of town,’ I said. ‘Had a special assignment.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I said vaguely. ‘He went by air. Long trip. He’s gonna be away a month.’
‘That’s what he thinks!’ snarled Sharp.
‘Look,’ I said quickly, ‘why don’t you guys go back to your office? The Chief will be a long while yet. I’ll get him to come around and see you. I promise. You won’t have to wait here. He’ll come around and see you.’
‘We’ll wait,’ said Sharp. He settled himself back in his chair more squarely. Conrad put his feet up on the Chief’s desk. They looked like they were content to wait for at least a week.
‘You fellas are wasting your time,’ I said weakly. ‘He’s gonna be an awful long time. He just phoned through. Said he’d been delayed …’
The door opened and the Chief came in. His blue eyes looked at me, flicked to Sharp and then to Conrad. Neither of them got up.
Sharp waved his hand airily towards the desk and said: ‘Sit down, Mr Healey. We’re pleased to see you. Mr Janson here was just telling us how you telephoned you weren’t coming.’
Healey shot me a quick, enquiring look. I frowned at him to be cautious what he said.
‘Been getting yourself a lotta publicity, Healey,’ said Sharp in a nasty voice.
‘Pictures on the newsreel, too,’ chimed in Conrad.
The Chief came around the back of the desk, took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He sat down with his arms on the desk. He looked from Sharp to Conrad and then back to Sharp again.