Tenth Commandment

by Lawrence Sanders

  421

  They could be true or false, but printed foolscap carried weight.

  'So,' Percy went on, sighing, 'we dug deeper and discovered that the poison had apparently been administered by Glynis Stonehouse, the daughter of the missing man. In addition, we found out that Glynis has been having an affair, is still having an affair, with the Reverend Godfrey Knurr. We do not know for sure, but we suspect that Professor Stonehouse has been murdered and that Knurr is deeply involved. So we are here, Mrs Kipper, to ask you to help by telling us what you can about this man. He's already charged with blackmail and wife desertion. It's only a matter of time before we can bring a first-degree homicide charge against him.'

  For a moment I thought we had her. She stood up, circled her chair, started to sit down again. Then she stalked off to a far corner of the room, twisting her hands.

  We watched her. She stood, facing a blank wall, then turned and came back. The air vibrated; you could feel it.

  I had to admire her. She had been rocked, there was no doubt of that, but she rallied. I thought of the word

  'spunk.'

  She sat down again, carelessly this time, sprawled. No longer the queen. She dug a last cigarette from the crumpled pack. Percy Stilton was there with his lighter. She inhaled deeply, let the smoke escape lazily from her nostrils.

  The silver-blonde hair was damp and tangled. The profile had lost its crispness; the bruise bulged an entire side of her face. The eyes seemed muddy, the thin lips were tightened and drawn. The chin she once carried so high had come down; there was soil in the wrinkles of her neck.

  Her body had slackened; the breasts sagged under the peignoir, the thighs had flattened.

  Is it possible to suffer from an excess of sympathy? At that moment I felt sorry for her. She was being buffeted 422

  cruelly, but was far from surrender.

  'This is very, uh, distressing,' she said finally.

  'I can imagine,' Detective Stilton said.

  I nodded madly.

  We stared at her, silent again.

  'All right,' she burst out, 'the man was a — a -'

  'Close friend of yours?' Percy suggested.

  'Not exactly,' she said quickly, already cutting her losses.

  'More like a — a -'

  'Spiritual adviser?' I said innocently.

  She looked at me sharply.

  'Yeah,' she said, 'spiritual adviser. For a few years. All right — bad news. Now he turns out to be a bummer. He's wanted. But what's it got to do with me?'

  The use of the slang — the 'yeah' and the 'bummer' — was the first indication I had that she was slipping back to her origins. The grand lady was fading.

  Stilton, the gentleman, still treated her with soft politesse, leaning towards her with a manner of great solicitude.

  'Let me tell you what we've got, Mrs Kipper,' he said.

  'Warrants have been issued for Knurr's arrest and the arrest of his paramour, Glynis Stonehouse. In addition, we have search warrants for her home, his home, and his houseboat. Sooner or later we're going to pick him up.'

  'So?' she said. 'Pick him up. It's got nothing to do with me.'

  Percy sat back, crossed his knees, selected a cigarette from his case and lighted it with slow deliberation.

  'I think it does,' he said, looking at her steadily. 'I think it has a great deal to do with you. In addition to the out-of-state charges and complicity in the disappearance of Professor Stonehouse, the Reverend Godfrey Knurr will also be charged with the murder of Martin Reape.'

  'Who?' she croaked. 'Never heard of him.'

  423

  'No?' Stilton said. 'Your late husband employed him.'

  He motioned towards me. 'Mr Bigg, the cancelled cheques, please.'

  I dug into my briefcase, came up with copies of Martin Reape's bills and the cancelled cheques. I showed them to her. She looked at them with smoky eyes.

  'Martin Reape was a private detective,' Stilton went on inexorably. 'He was pushed to his death beneath the wheels of a subway train. We have the testimony of two eyewitnesses placing the Reverend Godfrey Knurr at the scene of the homicide at the time it occurred. Reape's widow was also murdered. We have evidence proving Knurr's complicity in that homicide as well.'

  He lied so skilfully I could hardly believe it. His lies were 'throwaway' lines, spoken casually, as unemphasized as if he had mentioned 'Chilly out today.' They were absolutely believable. He was stating falsehoods and giving them no importance. He was saying, 'These things exist; everyone knows it.'

  Tippi Kipper had gone rigid. She was motionless.

  Frozen. I think that if I had flicked her flesh, it would have pinged. She was in an almost catatonic state. Every time she had adjusted to a blow, thought she had countered it, Stilton had jolted her again. He kept after her, feeding her confusion.

  'So,' he said, 'on the basis of this and other evidence, the investigation into the circumstances of your husband's death has been reopened, Mrs Kipper. If you doubt that, I suggest you call the New York Police Department and verify what I am saying. We now believe your husband was murdered.'

  'Murdered?' she cried. 'Impossible! He left a suicide note.'

  Detective Stilton held out a hand. I gave him the notes I had taken from Tippi Kipper's dressing room. Percy held them up before her.

  424

  'Like these?' he asked stonily.

  She glanced at them. Her face fell apart.

  'Where did you get those?' she yelled.

  'I, uh, obtained them,' I said.

  She whirled and glared at me.

  'You little prick!' she said.

  I bowed my head.

  'As I said,' Percy went on relentlessly, 'the investigation into your husband's murder has been reopened. We know how it was done: Knurr staying in an empty room overnight, going upstairs, killing the victim, running downstairs, going out the door only to turn around and ring the bell, coming right back in again while all of you were at the body in the backyard.'

  'Ridiculous,' she said. 'You'll never prove it.'

  'Oh, I think we will,' Stilton said. 'We've filed for a search warrant for these premises. On the basis of what we've got, I think it will be granted. We'll come in here and tear the place apart. The lab boys will vacuum every inch.

  They'll find evidence of Godfrey Knurr spending the night in an upstairs room. Dust from his shoes, a partial fingerprint, a thread or crumbs of his pipe tobacco, maybe the weapon he used. Maybe just a hair or two. It's impossible for a man to sleep somewhere overnight without leaving some evidence of his presence. And we'll confiscate that house diary the butler keeps. It shows Godfrey Knurr arrived the afternoon before the day your husband was killed, with no record of his departure. Oh yes, I think we have enough for an indictment, Mrs Kipper. Godfrey Knurr for homicide and you as accomplice. Both of you are going down the tube.'

  She made gulping sounds. Stilton continued lecturing.

  'And even if we can't make it stick,' he said tonelessly,

  'there's the publicity. Tabloids, radio, TV. The fashionable Mrs Tippi Kipper, active in social and charitable affairs, with a prior arrest record for prostitution.'

  425

  I could barely hear. Her head was down. But she was saying, 'Bastard, bastard, b a s t a r d . . . '

  Percy Stilton looked around. He spotted the handsome, marble-topped sideboard with a display of decanters. He went over, inspected the offerings, selected a captain's decanter bearing a porcelain label: BRANDY. He brought it back to the dining room table, poured a healthy wallop into the dregs of Tippi Kipper's coffee cup.

  'Drink up,' he ordered.

  She drained it, holding the cup with trembling hands. He poured in another shot, set the bottle on the table close to her. She dug, fumbling, into her empty cigarette pack.

  Percy offered his case, then held his lighter for her again.

  He didn't look at me. There was no triumph in his manner.

  'Mrs Kipper,' he said, 'I've
been as honest with you as I know how. As of this moment there is no warrant out for your arrest. But I think it's time we talked about you, your legal position, and your future.'

  'Now comes the crunch,' she said bitterly.

  'Correct,' he said equably. 'Now comes the the crunch.

  We're going to pick up Godfrey Knurr; you know that.

  We're going to lean on him. Do you really think he's going to remain steadfast and true? Come on, Mrs Kipper, you know better than that. He's going to sing his rotten little heart out. Before he's through, the whole thing will be your idea. You seduced him, you planned the murder of your husband; he was just the innocent bystander. You know that's how he's going to play it. That's the kind of man he is.'

  She rose abruptly, scraping her chair back on the polished parquet floor. She stood leaning forward, knuckles on the table: a chairman of the board addressing a meeting of hostile executives. But she was not looking at us. She was staring between us, down the length of that gleaming table, the translucent china, the silver candelabrum. Wealth.

  Gentility. Security.

  426

  'The first one in line makes the best deal,' Detective Percy Stilton said softly.

  Her eyes came back to him slowly.

  'Talk business,' she said harshly.

  We had her then, I knew, but Perce didn't change expression or vary his polite, solicitous manner.

  'This is how I suggest it be done,' he said. 'We didn't come to you; you came to us. You called Mr Bigg at the law firm that represented your late husband, and Mr Bigg then contacted me. But you made the initial move. You volunteered. Mr Bigg and I will so testify.'

  He looked at me. I nodded violently.

  'What was my motive for calling in the cops?' she asked.

  'You wanted to see justice done,' Stilton said.

  She shook her head. 'It won't wash,' she said.

  'Duress,' I said. 'Physical assault. Knurr threatened you. So you went along with his plan. But now you're afraid for your life.'

  Percy looked at me admiringly.

  'Yeah,' Tippi Kipper said, 'that's just how it was. He said he'd kill me if I didn't go along. I'll take off my makeup and you can get a colour picture of this.' She pointed at the puffy bruise on her cheek. 'He punched me out,' she said furiously. 'He has a wicked temper, and that's the truth. I was afraid for my life.'

  'Beautiful,' Percy said. 'It fits.'

  'You think the DA will believe it?' she asked anxiously.

  Stilton leaned back, crossed his knees again, lighted another cigarette.

  'Of course not,' he said. 'He's no dummy. But he'll go along. You're going to be his star witness, clearing up three homicides and probably four. So he'll play ball. We're giving him something.'

  'What do you think I'll draw?' she asked him.

  'Bupkes,' he said. 'Time suspended and probation.

  You'll walk.'

  427

  'And the prostitution arrest?' she demanded.

  'Buried,' Stilton said. 'Nothing to the press. You have my word on that.'

  She took a deep breath, looked around that lovely room as if she might never see it again.

  ' W e l l . . . ' she said, 'I guess we better get the show on the road. Can I get dressed?'

  'Of course,' Percy said, 'but I'll have to go upstairs with you. I hope you understand.'

  We all moved out into the entrance hall. Chester Heavens, Perdita Schug, and Mrs Neckin were gathered in a tight little group in the corridor to the kitchen. They watched, shocked, as their mistress and the detective entered the elevator. I retrieved my hat and coat and left hurriedly. I didn't want to answer their questions.

  Lou, behind the wheel of the blue Plymouth, saw me coming. He leaned across to the passenger's side and rolled down the window.

  'How'd it go?' he asked.

  'Fine,' I said. 'They'll be coming out soon.'

  'Is she going to spill?'

  I nodded.

  'It figures,' he said. 'That Perce, he's something. I'm glad we're on the same side. If he was on the wrong, he'd end up owning the city.'

  Then we waited in silence. I didn't want to get into the car. I wanted to look at that pure sky, breathe deeply in the sharp, tangy air. I didn't want to think about what had just happened. I wanted to savour the wide, wide world.

  They came out in about fifteen minutes. Tippi Kipper was wearing a belted mink coat that seemed to go around her three times. She was hatless, carrying an oversized black alligator purse. She had removed her makeup. The bruise was hideous. Percy Stilton was carrying a small overnight case of buttery pigskin.

  He opened the back door of the Plymouth for her. She 428

  climbed in without looking at me. Perce put the little suitcase in the front seat. Then he took me by the elbow, led me aside.

  'End of the line for you, Josh,' he said.

  'Can't I -' I started, but he shook his head regretfully and interrupted.

  'It's all official from now on,' he said. 'I'll call you as soon as we get something. Where will you be?'

  'Either at the office or home. Perce, promise you'll call.'

  'Absolutely,' he vowed. 'I'll keep you up on things. You deserve all the credit.'

  'Thank you,' I said faintly.

  He looked at me narrowly.

  'They were divorced, weren't they?' he said. 'Knurr and that Sylvia? And she and the old priest are a couple of whackos. Am I right?'

  I nodded miserably.

  He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

  'You're good,' he said, 'but not that good. Never try to scam a scammer.'

  I watched the Plymouth pull away, Stilton sitting next to Tippi Kipper in the back seat. When the car had turned the corner and disappeared, I walked over to Fifth Avenue and headed south. I decided to walk down to the TORT

  building.

  I should have been exultant but I wasn't. It was the morality of what I had done that was bothering me. All that chicanery and deceit. I would have committed almost any sin to demolish Godfrey Knurr, but conniving in the escape of Tippi Kipper from justice was more than I had bargained for. And I had connived. I had worked almost as hard as Percy Stilton to convince her to betray Knurr. It had to be done. But as Perce had said, she was going to walk. An accomplice to murder. Was that fair? Was that justice?

  I realized I didn't really know what 'justice' meant. It 429

  was not an absolute. It was not a colour, a mineral, a species. It was a human concept (what do animals know of justice?) and subject to all the vagaries and contradictions of any human hope. How can you define justice? It seemed to me that it was constant compromise, moulded by circumstance.

  I would make a terrible judge.

  The brisk walk downtown refreshed my spirits. The sharp air and exercise were cleansing. By the time I signed in with the security guard at TORT building, I had come to terms with what I had done. I was still regretful, but guilt was fading. I reckoned that if all went well, in a few weeks I would be proud of my role in bringing the Reverend Godfrey Knurr to justice — whatever that was.

  Mrs Gertrude Kletz had left me a sheaf of notes and a stack of requests for investigations and research. I set to work with pleasure, resolutely turning my mind from the Kipper and Stonehouse cases and concentrating on my desk work.

  I laboured all afternoon with no breaks except to rise occasionally to stretch, walk into the corridor to loosen my knees. I accomplished a great deal, clearing my desk of most of the routine matters and making a neat list of those that would require personal investigation.

  Shortly before 5.00 p.m., after trying to resist the urge, I called Percy Stilton's office. I was told he was 'in conference' and could not come to the phone, so I assumed the interrogation of Tippi Kipper was continuing.

  I put away the Kipper and Stonehouse files, emptying my cruddy briefcase. I considered buying a new one.

  Perhaps an a t t a c h é case, slender and smart. But that battered briefcase had been left to me by R
oscoe Dollworth and I was superstitious enough to believe it had magical properties: good luck and wisdom.

  I left the TORT building at about 5.50, remembering to take with me the wrapped red kite, string, and winder. I 430

  signed out, walked over to Broadway and took a bus down to West 23rd Street. I went directly to Woody's Restaurant, trying to recall how long it had been since I had enjoyed a decent dinner.

  As usual, Nitchy was on duty, looking especially attractive in her exotic, gypsy way. I told her so and she tapped her fingers against my cheek.

  'No princess tonight, Josh?' she asked.

  'Not tonight,' I said, smiling tiredly.

  I think she caught my mood, because she ushered me to a small table in a quiet corner and left me alone. I had two Scotch-and-waters, a club steak, baked potato, string beans, salad, a bottle of beer, coffee and brandy.

  When I left, I was subdued, thoughtful, content. I carried the kite back to my apartment and settled in to wait. I tried to read but ended up with a copy of Silas Marner on my lap, staring into the cold fireplace and trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last month.

  I came to no great conclusions, was subject to no great revelations. I tried to understand what motives, what passions, might drive apparently sane men and women to commit the act of murder. I could not comprehend it, and feared the fault was mine: I was not emotional enough, not feeling enough to grasp how others of hotter blood, of stronger desires, might be driven to kill.

  I was a mild little man, temperate, reflective. Nothing in my life was dramatic except what was contributed by others. It seemed incredible that I could survive in a world of such fiery wants and insatiable appetites.

  When the phone rang at about 8.20, I did not leap to answer it, but moved slowly, calmly. I think I may have been dreading what I expected to hear.

  'Josh?' Stilton's voice.

  'Yes.'

  'Percy. She spilled. Everything. It went down the way 431

  you figured. She doesn't know exactly how he did it — a karate chop or a hunk of pipe. She didn't ask. She didn't want to know. Ditto Martin Reape and his wife. Knurr just told her not to worry, he'd take care of everything.'

  'And he did,' I said.

  'Yes,' Perce said. 'Jesus, I'm tired. Anyway, we're organized now. There's a team up at the Stonehouse apartment, looking for the will. Another at Knurr's place in the Village. And another staked out at his houseboat.