by Ben Benson
“The minute I get to a phone,” I said. “And I’ll be back as soon as they let me.”
Outside in the corridor Captain Walsh was waiting for me.
“We can’t let her stay here, sir,” I said. “Why, Ellen’s only a kid, a scared kid. She just can’t stay here, sir.”
“There’s nothing we can do right now,” Walsh said. “You can’t interfere with the Danford cops. You’ve got to let them complete their own investigation. We’ll come into it when Boston tells us and not before.”
I went into the telephone booth and called Cambridge. When I came out, Mrs. Levesque’s shrill sobbing was still ringing in my ears. Captain Walsh was impatiently walking the floor, his hands thrust deep into his raincoat pockets. We went silently down the stairs.
We went outside, into the night air and away from the sour smell of the jail. Walsh said, “You drive. It’ll give you something to do.”
I drove the cruiser back to the barracks. Walsh sat beside me smoking his cigar. When we reached the blue neon State Police sign and turned into the driveway, he coughed brusquely and said, “Take the rest of the night off, Ralph. Go home. Your father will want to see you.”
“Thanks,” I said shortly.
“The Levesques coming out?”
“They’re on their way.”
“It’s always tougher on the parents,” Walsh said. He stepped out of the car. “You get away from the barracks as soon as you can. The newspaper men will be around here like flies around garbage. I can see the headlines tomorrow morning. Girl Kills Rival Over Love Of State Trooper. You’ve made a lousy mess for us, son.”
With that he went inside. I watched him, a flush creeping over my face. He had never shown a shred of emotion in the entire time I had known him. And I never hated him the way I did now.
I went upstairs and changed into civilian clothes. When I came down again reporters were milling around in the corridor outside the guardroom. But they were busy watching two Connecticut state troopers in their Stetson hats. The troopers were questioning the two manacled holdup men who had been brought in by Cruiser 19.
In the flurry of excitement I went out the back way. It was past midnight. I took my own car from the parking area and drove out to the turnpike.
But I didn’t go home to Cambridge. I couldn’t face my father, nor the wordless pain in him, nor the silent accusation of responsibility for what had happened.
I drove instinctively, like a homing pigeon, to the place where it had all started, to the beginning, to a small bar on Berkshire Street downtown in Danford.
The place was more crowded than last time. It was noisier, more smoke-filled. The same undersized bartender was on duty. I hunched onto a stool and ordered a bourbon and ginger. The bartender mechanically put the drink in front of me. I stirred it with the plastic swizzle stick and gulped it down. The bartender began to move away.
“Wait a minute,” I said to him. “Remember me?”
He looked at me carefully. He shook his head. “Wednesday night,” I said. “A week ago. About six o’clock. I was sitting here drinking beer.”
His forehead wrinkled. He shook his head again. “You’re not a regular. A lot of strays come in here, mister. Don’t get insulted because I don’t remember you.”
I said, “A girl came in. Blond, pretty, sapphire-blue eyes, gray suit, no hat. She sat there.”
His thin, ferret face twitched in thought. I said, “She ordered an Old Fashioned, but she didn’t drink it. Remember now?”
He smiled slyly. “Now I do. Then she came over and picked you up. She took you out of here. How did you make out, pal?”
“Never mind,” I said shortly. “Just tell me if she was in here before.”
He bristled now. “How do I know? And who’s asking the questions? What are you, a cop, or something?”
“Yes, a cop.”
“Sure.” His lip twitched. “What are they doing, robbing the cradle now? Go away, you make me laugh.”
I took out my wallet and showed him the badge. His eyes moved back and forth as he read the inscription. But the sneering, disbelieving look stayed on his face. He spread his hands on the bar.
I put the wallet back. “I asked if she was here before.”
“I never seen her.”
“Afterwards?” I asked.
“Never saw her again. I wouldn’t forget a dish like her.” He was edging away from me.
I called him back. “I’ll have another drink. The same as before.”
He brought it to me. I reached for my wallet again to pay him. He saw the holstered S&W revolver when I unbuttoned my coat. He wet his lips and his fingers trembled.
I gulped down the second drink. I sat there and stared at the bar mirror and the red scratches on my face. The liquor made the tip of my nose and my lips numb, but I wasn’t drunk. I was thinking of Ellen Levesque and the birdhouse she used to have in her back yard. One time she had found a robin with a broken wing and she had cried over it and had made a splint for the wing and built the birdhouse and padded it with straw. When the wing healed it was crooked and she painstakingly taught the bird to fly again. And he did, fluttering awkwardly at first, then he flew away and never came back. And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t picture her in Manette Venus’ room. Not with a pearl-handled revolver in her hand and Manette Venus dead on the floor near her. My brain was fuzzy and the images refused to focus.
Twenty minutes went by and I had no answer. My glass remained empty on the bar. Cigarette butts piled up in the glass ash tray. But the bartender didn’t come back to me.
I heard the front door open and a gush of fresh air hit the room and swirled the smoke. Suddenly the sound in the place became muffled and died away. I turned my drooping head, my eyes moving along the floor. I saw black shoes and shiny black puttees. Then flared dark blue breeches with a broad stripe slashing the sides. There was the horizon blue tunic, the black leather service belt and crossbelt, the State Police patch at the shoulder yoke. Then the square-set visored cap, and under it the rigid face of Patrolman Phil Kerrigan. I peered behind him and saw a young trooper named Ravelli, his thumbs through his belt.
“Hello, Phil,” I said to Kerrigan. “You’re far off your territory.”
His face was expressionless. “We got a call at the barracks. They said an armed kid with a scratched face was here impersonating a state trooper. Asking all kinds of questions. You, Ralph?”
I started to laugh. I couldn’t stop. I began coughing. “That’s good,” I said. “Me, impersonating a trooper. Maybe they feel the same way down at the troop, too.”
Kerrigan didn’t laugh. Ravelli blinked his eyes solemnly. Kerrigan looked around. “They also said you were getting drunk, Ralph—”
“I’m not drunk,” I said. “I’m a little numb, but I’m not drunk.”
The bartender came, bent over and spoke to Kerrigan. “It’s all right, isn’t it?” he asked worriedly. “This guy comes in here and he—”
“No, it’s all right,” Kerrigan said. “Thanks. You did the best thing.” He turned to me and his big strong fingers bit into my shoulder. “Let’s go, kid.”
“Where?”
“Back to the barracks.”
“Captain Walsh gave me the night off. Thanks for the interest in me, but—”
“Look,” he whispered harshly. “You’re drinking in a public place. If the duty sarge finds out, they’ll take your badge.”
“I’m not drunk. I’ve had two—”
“You’re half-drunk now. Don’t make the mess worse than it is. Come on.”
“Take your hand away,” I said thinly. “I’ll go on my own two feet.”
“Fine,” Kerrigan said. “Walsh has gone home. We’ll sneak you by Maleski and sign you in—on your own two feet.”
I went with him to the door. A uniformed Danford cop was standing there. He said something to Kerrigan and Kerrigan said, “Thanks. We’ll do the same for you some day.”
We went outside. A state cru
iser was at the curb. Ravelli turned down all the windows and helped me into the backseat. We drove off. Kerrigan twisted his head around. “How do you feel?”
“How do you expect me to feel?” I asked.
“All right, so you had a bad time tonight. Nobody expects you to be a tin god about it. But next time you want to get drunk, go home and do it. Then nobody’ll see you.”
“I’m not drunk,” I said stubbornly.
“You weren’t looking too good,” Ravelli said quietly. “Now here’s what we do. When we get back to the barracks, you’ll walk in alone. We’ll be right behind you. Don’t talk to Maleski. Sign in. We’ll be waiting at the stairway and we’ll help you to your room.”
“You don’t have to stick out your neck for a boot,” I said. “I don’t expect—”
“Get this straight,” Kerrigan said tersely. “We’re not thinking of you. If your name wasn’t Lindsey—if it wasn’t for your old man—I’d turn you in right now.”
“You never knew my old man—”
“I’ve heard of him. Now you’ll do as Hank Ravelli says. We’ll wait for you at the stairs. If you slip on them going up and Maleski runs out to have a look, then you’re finished.”
I didn’t answer. Ravelli picked up the radio handphone, spoke to the dispatcher and told him Cruiser 36 was coming in.
I shivered. “It’s cold in here.”
“Leave the windows open,” Kerrigan said sharply. “And take deep breaths.”
We came to the barracks. They waited outside as I went into the duty office. Sergeant Maleski was at the telephone, his face studiously peering at the desk in front of him. I went by and scribbled my name on the sheet. Maleski put down the phone and Kerrigan came swiftly into the office.
Maleski said, “What was the call in Danford, Phil?”
“Nothing,” Kerrigan said stolidly. “A guy was showing a toy badge. The bartender was a little nearsighted.”
As they were talking I was out of the office and at the foot of the stairs. Ravelli was waiting for me. He took me up to my room and put me to bed.
“Keep your nose clean, kid,” he said. He went out. I could hear his footsteps going downstairs. I waited until I heard the cruiser drive away. Then I put my head on the pillow and fell asleep immediately.
CHAPTER 7
I was all right in the morning. No headache. My mouth was parched and my teeth felt coated, but nothing else. I sat up and looked around. Kerrigan was fast asleep in his bed.
I showered, shaved, dressed in my uniform, and came down to breakfast. In the dining room I saw Captain Walsh at his table. A white-coated mess attendant was putting dishes down on it. As he moved away I saw another man sitting there. He was a slightly stooped, gangling man in a rumpled gray flannel suit. He had lank brown hair and a weatherbeaten, craggy face. He was chewing his food very carefully, with a soft, sorrowful expression. I recognized him as Detective-Lieutenant Edward Newpole from State Police General Headquarters in Boston.
Newpole looked up, saw me, and waved his fork. I waved back to him. Then I turned and spoke to a trooper beside me. The trooper answered briefly and curtly and I looked around at the others at the table. All right, I said to myself. So that’s the way it is now.
After chow I lit a cigarette and went to the duty board. I looked up my patrol assignment. My name was scratched. Then I heard Captain Walsh call me. I turned around and followed him to his office. Ed Newpole was sitting there. He stood up and put his hand out.
“How’s your father, Ralph?” he asked.
“He’s well, sir,” I said.
“I guess he might be a little sore at me,” Newpole said. “I ain’t seen him for a couple of months. I been meaning to—but it’s always this and that.”
“He often talks of you,” I said.
“Probably nothing good,” Newpole said dolefully. “We worked together in the troops for a long time. Old Walt never forgave me for going on the detectives. He was always a great one for the uniformed branch. Is he still?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anyway, now he’s got you in, and I guess that means everything to him. You try and stay with it, boy. He won’t ask for more out of life.”
Captain Walsh, lighting a cigar, peered down the end of it. He shook the match and said briskly, “You’ve got a special assignment, Ralph. An investigation with Newpole. The Manette Venus case.”
I stood stock-still, not knowing what to do with my hands.
“Go change to civilian clothes,” Walsh said. “It’s a break for you, Lindsey. You’ve got a chance to watch Lieutenant Newpole work. Keep your mouth shut unless you’re asked, and maybe you’ll learn something.” He turned to Newpole. “I never approved of using a boot,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ve got enough experienced men.”
“You know this is an exception, Fred,” Newpole said gently. “The boy not only knew the deceased. But he also knows the suspect.” He nodded to me. “Go ahead and change, Ralph.”
I left them and went to my room. When I came down Newpole was no longer in the building. I found him outside in the driveway, standing by a black headquarters sedan with civilian number plates.
“If you don’t mind,” I said to him, “first, I have to find out about Ellen. Maybe they released her on bail—”
“No,” Newpole said.
“I’d like to see her for a minute. It wouldn’t take long, Lieutenant—”
“You’ll get a chance later. She’s all right. She’s seen her father and mother and the family lawyer. They say she’s a pretty spunky kid.”
“She always was,” I said. “What can they really do to her, Lieutenant?”
“Well, I spoke to the D. A. He’s going to arraign her on a first-degree murder charge this morning.”
“That would never stick,” I said. “If it was an accident—?”
“It might stick, and it mightn’t. Me, I never speculate. You get a jury, and—you know, you can’t figure them.” He got into the car. I went around and sat in the front seat beside him. He said, “How do you like it here at Troop E?”
“All right, up until last night. Now the boys look right through me, as if I’m not in the room.”
“Well, they’ll get over it,” Newpole said cheerfully. “You know how these youngsters are. Nobody likes to see the troop get a bad name. You get mixed up with two girls, and one kills the other and it gets into the papers—well, it don’t look so good, does it?”
“If they want my badge,” I said, “they can have it.”
“If they want your badge,” Newpole said, starting the car, “they’ll take it away without asking. You’ve only got three months in. You don’t even rate a court-martial. Don’t throw the badge away so quick, son. It was damn tough getting it.”
“I thought if I were free, if I could work on this on the outside, I could do more for Ellen.”
“You’d do better with a badge in your pocket and authority behind you.”
He drove out along the turnpike until he reached a diner. He pulled into the parking area. “It’s time for coffee,” he said.
“We just had coffee.”
“It’ll give us a chance to talk. I talk better with a cup of coffee in my hand.” He opened the door and stepped out. I started to follow him.
“No,” he said. “I’ll bring the coffee back here. We’ll talk in the car.”
He came back with two steaming cardboard coffee containers. I sipped on mine. The coffee was fresh and strong, but there was a wet paper odor from the carton.
Newpole cocked a side glance at me. “I hear you threw a little wingding at a bar last night.”
I started to answer him, but he went on. “It gets around. You can’t outfox an old hand like Maleski. He’s seen every trick in the book. But as long as you didn’t rub his nose in it—”
“Also because I’m Walt Lindsey’s son,” I said bitterly. “Why don’t you say it? If it was anybody else who did it—”
“A boot, you mean?” Newpole
said amiably. “Sure, he’d be out. I guess nobody wants to stick a knife in your old man. So you got a break. If you’re smart, it don’t happen again.”
“I wasn’t drunk,” I said. “I only had two.”
“I’ve seen folks get drunk on one. Anyway, let’s say you were upset.”
“Yes, I was upset. By God, it was Ellen Levesque. They have her in a cell. A kid who would never step on an ant.”
He sipped carefully on his coffee, his pale brown eyes roaming the parking area. “I remember her around your house. Cute little black-haired girl? Freckles?”
“All over her nose.”
“That’s her,” Newpole said. “Maybe we’d better start this thing from the beginning—with the other one. How did you meet Manette Venus?”
I told him. I began with the barroom on Berkshire Street. I told him of the gun, of her fear, everything. When I was through he said, “Did you really fall for this Manette?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She was a beautiful girl, the kind who would attract any man. I don’t know how long it would have lasted or where it would have led. I didn’t know her long enough.”
“You wouldn’t have gone away and married her?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “You get all excited about those things in a sudden flash. Then later when you think about them, you’re not so sure. Because all the real problems come up and stare you in the face.” I twisted around to him. “They sent you down to investigate me, too, didn’t they?”
Newpole took a last sip of his coffee and tossed the container out the window. “Sure, I won’t kid you. It’s one of the reasons. I’m supposed to take your badge, too, if there’s any culpability on your part. That’s the word the Commissioner used, culpability.”
“And that’s why I was assigned to the case. So you can keep an eye on me, watch me, examine me under a magnifying glass.”
Newpole scratched the end of his nose. “Can’t deny that, either,” he said sadly. “But you got to look at it this way, too. It’s a small, handpicked organization. It’s got a good reputation. The Commissioner is pretty fussy about it. He has to be. A trooper is out alone most of the time. Sometimes twenty, thirty miles away from his base. When a man’s alone and far away, he has to carry a lot of authority. You’ve got to be sure of a man like that. ’Course there’s also an obligation to your old man. But if you get panicky and run—if you quit—”