“I don’t know, Bernie. According to Craig, she was more of a tramp than this Frankie seemed to think she was.”
“Well, Craig was prejudiced. He was paying alimony.”
“That’s true. Do you know who the three men are?”
I nodded. “This is where it gets tricky. I had trouble questioning Frankie because I couldn’t let her think I was too interested or she’d wonder what it was all about. Then as the night wore on I was too smashed to do a good job as Mr. District Attorney. And I’m not sure how much Frankie really knew about Crystal’s boyfriends. I think two of them were married.”
“Almost everybody is.”
“Really? I thought everybody was divorced. But two of Crystal’s three were married.” Including, I thought, the one who’d been rolling around with her while I’d languored in her closet, the one who had to hurry on home to What’s-Her-Name. “One of them’s a lawyer. Frankie referred to him as the Legal Beagle when she wasn’t calling him Snoopy. I think his first name may be John.”
“You think it may?”
“Uh-huh. Frankie did an Ed McMahon imitation a couple of times in reference to him. ‘And now, heeeeeeeere’s Johnny!’ So I assume that’s his name.”
“A married lawyer named Johnny.”
“Right.”
“That sure narrows it down.”
“Doesn’t it? Married Boyfriend Number Two is a little easier to get a line on. He’s a painter and his name is Grabow.”
“His last name?”
“I suppose so. I suppose he has a first name to go with it. Unless he’s very artsy and he just uses the one name. Frankie was pretty vague on the subject of Grabow.”
“It sounds to me as though she was pretty vague about everything.”
“Well, she was, but I don’t think she ever met Grabow. At least that’s the impression I got. She saw a lot of the Legal Beagle because Crystal used to drink with him in the bars. I gather Frankie found him amusing, but I don’t know whether she laughed with him or at him. But I have the feeling all she knew about Grabow was what Crystal told her, and that may not have amounted to very much.”
“What about the third man?”
“He’s easy. Maybe because he’s not married, or at least I don’t think he’s married, which would mean he’d have nothing to hide. Anyway, Frankie knows him. His name is Knobby and he tends bar at Spyder’s Parlor. That’s one of the places I hit last night.”
“So you met him?”
“No. We went there looking for him but he’d switched shifts with Lloyd.”
“Who’s Lloyd?”
“The guy who was tending bar at Spyder’s Parlor last night. I’ll tell you one thing, he pours a hell of a drink. I don’t know Knobby’s last name. I don’t know Frankie’s last name, come to think of it, or anybody’s last name. None of the people I met last night had last names. But I don’t suppose it’ll be hard to find Knobby, not if he hangs onto his job.”
“I wonder why he didn’t work last night.”
“Beats me. I gather the bartenders switch shifts with each other all the time. Maybe there was something on television Knobby didn’t want to miss. Or maybe he had to sit up washing Crystal’s blood out of his official Spyder’s Parlor T-shirt. Not really, because there wasn’t any blood to speak of.”
“How do you know that, Bernie?”
Brilliant. “She was stabbed in the heart,” I said. “So there wouldn’t have been much bleeding.”
“Oh.”
“So here’s what we’ve got,” I said, changing the subject back where it belonged. “The Legal Beagle, Grabow the Artist, and Knobby the Bartender. I think we’ll have to concentrate on the three of them for the time being.”
“How?”
“Well, we can find out who they are. That would be a start.”
“And then what?”
And then I could see who had the jewels, but I couldn’t tell Jillian that. She didn’t know anything about my Ultrasuede attaché case filled with twice-stolen pretties, nor did she know B. G. Rhodenbarr had been on the premises when Crystal got hers.
“And then,” I said, “we can see if one of them had a reason for killing Crystal, and if there was any link between any of them and Craig, because the killer didn’t just happen to turn up with a dental scalpel because the local hardware store was fresh out of javelins. If it turns out that Grabow’s got a partial plate that Craig made for him, or—God, I’m stupid today. You’re really seeing me at my worst, Jillian. Drunk last night and hungover this morning. I’ve got a brain underneath it all, honest I do. A small one, but it’s stood me in good stead over the years.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your files. Well, Craig’s files, actually. Knobby and Grabow and the Beagle. Craig has a record of everyone he’s seen professionally, doesn’t he? Grabow’ll be a cinch if he was ever a patient, unless Frankie got his name wrong. Knobby’ll be harder until I learn what his legal name is, but that shouldn’t take long and then you can see if there’s any connection between him and Craig. As far as Johnny the Lawyer is concerned, well, there we’ve got a problem. I don’t suppose you have your patients listed by occupation.”
She shook her head. “There’s blanks for business address and employer on the chart, but when they’re self-employed they don’t usually specify what they’re self-employed at. I know what I could do.”
“What?”
“I could go through and pull all the Johns who aren’t obviously something other than lawyers, and then I can check the ones who are left against the listings of attorneys in the Yellow Pages. Not all lawyers are listed, of course. I guess most of them aren’t. But does it sound as though it might be worthwhile?”
“It sounds like a long shot. And a lot of hard work.”
“I know.”
“But every once in a while somebody sifts through a haystack and actually comes up with a needle. If you don’t mind taking the time—”
“I don’t have anything else to do. And it’ll at least give me the feeling that I’m doing something to help.”
“You’re harboring a fugitive,” I said. “That’s something.”
“Do you really think you’re a fugitive? Just because you recognized a policeman in your lobby doesn’t mean he was there waiting for you. He might have been checking on some other tenant.”
“Mrs. Hesch, say. Maybe he came to arrest her for smoking in the elevator.”
“But he wasn’t even one of the cops we saw before, Bernie. Why would he be the one to go looking for you? I could understand if it was…I forget their names.”
“Todras and Nyswander. Todras was the block of granite with the menacing smile. Nyswander was Wilbur the Weasel.”
“Well, if they were waiting for you, then you’d have something to worry about. But I don’t think—who’s that?”
The doorbell sounded again, right on cue.
I said, “I came here last night around one. I left about an hour ago. You don’t know anything about my being a burglar. I never really talk much about my work and we haven’t been going together that long. You’ve been seeing other men besides me, see, although you haven’t let me know that.”
“Bernie, I—”
“Pay attention. You can answer the bell in a minute. They’re downstairs and they’re not about to kick the door in. You’re Craig’s girlfriend, it might even be a good idea to volunteer that, but you like to play the field a bit and neither Craig nor I knows you’re seeing the other one. You’d better use the intercom now. I’ll have time to get out before any New York cop can drag his ass up three flights of stairs.”
She walked to the wall, depressed the switch to activate the intercom. “Yes?” she said. “Who is it?”
“Police officers.”
She looked at me. I nodded and she poked the buzzer to let them in. I went to the door, opened it, put one foot out into the hallway. “It’s official,” I said, “you’ve been harboring a fugitive, but you didn’t kn
ow it so it’s not your fault. For that matter, nobody told me I was a fugitive. I lied to the cops about my line of work, but why not, since I didn’t want you to know about it? I think we’ll both be all right. I’ll get in touch with you later, either here or at the office. Don’t forget to go through the files.”
“Bernie—”
“No time,” I said, and blew her a kiss and scampered.
I had ample time to climb one flight of stairs while Todras and Nyswander were climbing three. I loitered on the top step and listened while their feet led them to Jillian’s door. They knocked. The door opened. They entered. The door closed. I gave them a minute to get comfortable, then descended a flight and stood beside the door, listening. I heard voices but couldn’t make them out. I could tell there were two of them, though, and I’d heard both pairs of feet on the stairs, and I didn’t want to hang around until one of them got psychic and yanked the door open. I went down three more flights of stairs and took my tie out of my pocket and put it right back when I saw how wrinkled it was.
The sun seemed brighter than it had to be. I blinked at it, momentarily uncertain, and a voice said, “If it ain’t my old pal Bernie.”
Ray Kirschmann, the best cop money can buy, stood with his abundant backside resting upon the fender of a blue-and-white police cruiser. He had a lazy smile on his broad face. A smile of insupportable smugness.
I said, “Oh, hell, Ray. Long time no see.”
“Been ages, hasn’t it?” He drew the passenger door open, nodded at the seat. “Hop in,” he said. “We’ll have us a ride on a beautiful morning like this. It’s no kind of a day to be inside, like in a cell or anything like that. Hop in, Bern.”
I hopped.
CHAPTER
Ten
Every block in New York sports several fire hydrants spaced at intervals along the sidewalk. These have been installed so that the police won’t have to circle the block looking for a parking space. Ray pulled away from one of them and told me I’d just missed a couple of friends of his. “A couple of fellows in plainclothes,” he said. “Myself, I’m happy wearin’ the uniform. These two, you musta missed each other by a whisker. Maybe they were in the elevator while you was on the stairs.”
“There’s no elevator.”
“That a fact? Just plain bad luck you didn’t run into them, Bernie. But I guess you made their acquaintance yesterday. Here they missed you, and now they’ll come downstairs and find that I took a powder my own self. Not that they’ll be sorry to see me gone. They come here on their own, you know, in their own blue-and-white, and I tagged along and I had the feelin’ they wanted to tell me to get lost. You take a cop and put a business suit on him and he develops an attitude, you know what I mean? All of a sudden he thinks he’s a member of the human race and not your ordinary flatfoot. You want a smoke, Bernie?”
“I quit a few years ago.”
“Good for you. That’s strength of character is what it is. I’d quit myself if I had the willpower. What’s all this crap about your aunt teaching school in the Bronx?”
“Well, you know how it is, Ray.”
“Yeah, that’s the truth. I know how it is.”
“I was trying to impress this girl. I just met her fairly recently, and one of those cops must have recognized my name and I didn’t want her to find out I’ve got a criminal past.”
“A criminal past.”
“Right.”
“But that’s all behind you, that criminal past. You’re Stanley Straightarrow now.”
“Right.”
“Uh-huh.” He puffed on his cigarette. I rolled down my window to let some smoke out and some New York air in, a pointless exchange if there ever was one. He said, “How do you tie in with this Sheldrake character?”
“He’s my dentist.”
“I got a dentist. They say to see him twice a year and that’s plenty for me. I don’t hang out at his office, I don’t try slipping it to his nurse.”
“Hygienist.”
“Whatever. You a big fight fan, Bernie?”
“I get to the Garden when I can.”
“This used to be a real fight town. Remember when they had a Wednesday card at St. Nick’s Arena? And then you had your regular fights out at Sunnyside Gardens in Queens. You ever used to get out there?”
“I think I went two, three times. That was some years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, years and years,” he said. “I love it that you showed Todras and Nyswander a ticket stub. Just happened to have it with you. Jesus, I really love it.”
“I was wearing the same jacket.”
“I know. If it was me and I was settin’ up an alibi I’d have the stub in a different jacket and I’d take ’em back to my apartment and rummage through the closet until I came up with the stub. It looks better that way. Not so obvious, you know?”
“Well, I wasn’t setting up an alibi, Ray. I just happened to go to the fights that night.”
“Uh-huh. But if you just happened to stop there on your way home to pick up a stub that somebody else just happened to throw away, well, that would be interestin’, wouldn’t it? That would mean you were tryin’ to set up an alibi before the general public knew there was anythin’ to need an alibi for. Which might mean you knew about Sheldrake’s wife gettin’ bumped while the body was still warm, which would be a damned interestin’ thing for you to know, wouldn’t it?”
“Wonderful,” I said. “The only thing worse than not having an alibi is having one.”
“I know, and it’s a hell of a thing, Bern. You get suspicious when you’ve had a few years in the Department. You lose the knack of takin’ things at face value. Here all you did was take in a fight card and it looks for all the world like I’m fixin’ to tag you with a felony.”
“I thought it was open and shut. I thought you people figured the husband did it.”
“What, the murder? Yeah, it looks as though that’s how they’re writin’ it up. A man kills his ex-wife and leaves his own personal scalpel in her chest, that’s as good as a signature, isn’t it? If it was my case I might think it was a little too good, the way that ticket stub in your pocket was a little too good, but it ain’t my case and what does an ordinary harness bull in a blue uniform know about something fancy like homicide? You got to wear a three-piece suit in order to be up on the finer points of these things, so I just keep my own nose clean and let the boys in suits and ties take care of the homicides. I mind my own business, Bernie.”
“And what’s your business exactly, Ray?”
“Now there’s another good question.” A light turned and he hung a right turn, his fleshy hands caressing the wheel. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “I think there’s a reason I’m still wearin’ a uniform after all these years on the force, and I think the reason’s I never been a subtle guy. My trouble is I notice the obvious first and foremost. I see a ticket stub happens to be in somebody’s pocket and what comes to mind is a planned alibi. And I look at the guy in question and he’s a fellow that’s spent his whole life liftin’ things out of other people’s houses, what comes to mind is a burglary. Here we got a burglar who went to some trouble settin’ hisself up with an alibi, and the next morning we find him in the office of the dentist who just cooled out his wife, and the morning after that one he’s tiptoein’ out of the dentist’s nurse’s bedroom, and I don’t know what a subtle plainclothes man would make of all that, but old Ray here, he gets right down to cases.”
Ahead of us, a UPS van had traffic tied up. Some of the other drivers around us were using their horns to ventilate their feelings. But Ray was in no hurry.
I said, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Well, what the hell, Bernie. Here we are, just you and me and a traffic jam, so let’s us get down to carpet tacks. The way I figure it, you decided the Sheldrake dame looked like an easy score. Maybe you kept your ears open when you were gettin’ your teeth drilled, or maybe you got hipped by the nurse that you been havin’ a romance
with, one way or another, but you decided to drop over to Gramercy and open a couple of locks and see what was loose. Now maybe you were in and out before Sheldrake came callin’, but then how would you know you needed an alibi? No, I’ll tell you the way I figure it. You got there and opened the door and found her with her heart stopped. You took a minute to fill your pockets with pretty things and then you got the hell out, and on the way home you stopped at the Garden and picked a stub off the floor. Then first thing the next mornin’ you hopped over to Sheldrake’s office to keep in touch with what was happenin’ and make sure your own neck wasn’t on the block.”
“What makes you think something was stolen?”
“The dead woman had more jewelry than Cartier’s window. There’s nothin’ in the apartment but prizes out of Cracker Jack boxes. I don’t figure it walked away.”
“Maybe she kept it in a bank vault.”
“Nobody keeps it all in a bank vault.”
“Maybe Sheldrake took it.”
“Sure. He remembered to turn the place inside out and carry off all the jewels but he was so absentminded that he left his whatchacallit, his scalpel, he left it in her heart. I don’t think so.”
“Maybe the cops took it.”
“The investigatin’ officers?” He clucked his tongue at me. “Bernie, I’m surprised at you. You think a couple of guys checkin’ out a homicide are gonna stop to rob the dead?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
“Honestly? I think it’s a hell of a thing. But it didn’t happen this time because the downstairs neighbor was on hand when they cracked the Sheldrake woman’s door. You don’t steal when somebody’s watchin’ you. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”
The Burglar in the Closet Page 9