by Ben Benson
“You’ll make a good trooper,” he said quietly. “I know you’ve got the instinct for it.” He took a deep breath. “We’ll have to do something about Ellen. When you see a kid like Ellen grow up next door to you, and she’s in your house all the time, she’s like your own daughter.”
“We’ll get her out,” I said.
“Does she mean enough to you? I mean, there’s no more foolishness about it, is there?”
“No,” I said. “I’m cured. And I’ll get her out. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll get her out.”
My father smiled wanly. “I come here to cheer you, and it’s the other way around. Let’s go find your mother before she tells the doctor how the hospital is starving you.”
Detective-Lieutenant Ed Newpole came in the next day, Monday. I was in my own clothes then and getting ready to leave.
“They said you were being discharged,” Newpole said. “But I thought it was later this afternoon.”
“My arm’s much better. I’ve got a small splint and bandage above the wrist. Look, I can move my fingers good.”
“Great. Now you can go home and rest a few days.”
“No, I want to go back to duty.”
“When?”
“Now, Lieutenant. Right now.”
Newpole took off his battered hat and scratched his head. “Well, I don’t know if you’re fit yet—”
“The surgeon-general was here this morning. He said I was able to do light duty. I’m fit. And there are three gunmen on the loose.”
He looked amused. “You’re not going to get them yourself, are you? And where are you going to find them?”
“They must be holed up somewhere.”
“Sure. If they got through our roadblocks, they could be in hiding anywhere from Bangor, Maine, to Baltimore. That’s going to take time.”
“But we can’t take the time,” I said impatiently. “The longer it takes, the weaker the evidence.”
“I don’t understand,” Newpole said. “What evidence? You were an eyewitness to Helen Toledo’s death. You saw her get killed. What more do we need?”
“I’m talking about the evidence on Manette Venus. Captain Walsh has it.”
“He has what?”
“The report of the conversation I had with Helen Toledo. Why do you think I was bringing Helen in? Why do you think they killed her?”
“You tell me,” Newpole said.
“Because they knew she would have talked.”
“All right,” Newpole said. “And how can we check your story?”
I started to choke up. “If you think I lied—”
“Not me.”
“Captain Walsh—” I said.
“No. He’d back up any statement one of his troopers made.”
“Then what?”
“How’s the D. A. going to take it, son? Where’s the evidence? Here’s a trooper whose girl is in the stir. He’s in love with her. And don’t tell me he’s not. Because it shows on him like a heat rash. He’s apt to try anything to get her out. With Helen Toledo dead, there’s no corroboration.”
“There’s my word—”
“Not enough. The D. A. wouldn’t listen to you and I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t either, if I were him.”
“Listen,” I said urgently. “They were getting ready to kill Manette Venus that night. They were there. In the house. Ellen Levesque walked into it. Some way, somehow, they saw an opportunity to pin it on her.”
“It may be,” Newpole said. “We’ve been thinking along the same lines, too. But how was it done? Chet Granger and I have talked to Ellen over and over again. She fired the shot. There’s no getting away from it.”
“Let me talk to her,” I said. “Let me see her.”
“Why, sure,” he said. “I got a hunch she wants to see you, too. She heard you were hurt.”
“When can we go?”
“Now.” He smiled. “Come on, I’ll drive you over there. And I’ll wait outside, too, so you can see her alone.”
We drove to the county jail, to the women’s section. They brought Ellen Levesque into the visiting room and sat her down in a straight wooden chair. There was a grayness about her. Her lips were pale and devoid of lipstick. It seemed as though the pigmentation of her skin had changed, but it was only the dreariness of the room.
“They told me you were shot,” she said, her hand clutching my good one across the little table. “I was worried.”
“I’m all right,” I said. I wiggled the fingers of my left hand. “You can see for yourself.”
She smiled briefly then. She turned her head and looked at the matron standing close by. “They don’t give you any privacy, Ralph. It’s very hard living in a goldfish bowl.”
“I found out something in the Army,” I said. “The trick is to make believe everybody else is invisible. I brought you some books, candy and cigarettes. I didn’t know what else to bring. I had to leave them with the turnkey. If there’s anything else you want—”
“Thank you. I have everything. Even a little radio.”
“You look very good,” I lied.
“Thanks, Ralph. Even if it isn’t true. How’s your father?”
“He’s aged a little in the past week. He blames himself, naturally.”
“He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault.”
“It was my fault,” I said. “Getting involved with Manette Venus the way I did. I keep thinking. If I went away with her, I wouldn’t have messed it up for you, for everybody.”
“Then you would have ruined your own life, Ralph.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Her voice chilled suddenly. “You don’t know?” she asked distantly. “Don’t you realize the kind of person she was? She was bad. All these things that have come out about her—”
“She wasn’t bad,” I said. “I don’t care what they found out. I know she wasn’t bad.”
“But how can you reconcile such reasoning? Her record, her past—”
“I know she wasn’t bad,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t know how to explain it—”
“One of your hunches. Your fabulous instinct.”
“No. There’s something wrong with the picture they have of her. Inside I have a feeling she was good and decent.” I shook my head. “But that’s gone and over with.” I took her cold little hand. “Ellen, let’s get married right away. It could be arranged here.”
She looked at me intently. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Yes,” I said. “They must have a chapel here where they can perform the ceremony.”
“And why do you want to do it, Ralph?” she asked, her nostrils pinched. “Is this the grand, noble gesture?”
“No. I always wanted to marry you. Maybe at one time I didn’t know it. But I do now.”
“And do you think I would get married in a prison?” she asked. “I always dreamed of getting married in the church in Cambridge. In a white satin dress and veil. With bridesmaids and ushers and a flower girl. And what makes you think I would have you now?”
“I didn’t consider that,” I said slowly. “If I made one bad mistake—”
“Not one mistake, Ralph. Oh, a man can have a lapse. He can go sour just one time and get involved with a girl. And when you walked in here today I had already forgiven you. But now I know you’re not honest. You won’t admit you’re wrong. You won’t admit she was a bad girl. No, it would show your judgment is faulty and you can’t have that, can you?”
“If I admitted she was bad,” I said tonelessly, “I’d be lying to you.”
“So now you’re willing to perform the great act of charity. You’re noble. You’re going to do right by poor Ellen. You’re willing to marry her. Do you think I could accept it?”
“You’re bitter,” I said. “It’s this place. Once you get out of here you’ll think differently.”
“I won’t,” she said, her mouth tight. “And what makes you think I’ll ever get out of here?”
“Because I th
ink we’ve found something.”
“Lieutenant Newpole told me. But he said it was very weak.”
“It’s a start,” I said. “It gives us something to work on. If we could find these three men and question them—”
“But I fired the shot,” she said in a dead voice.
“It’s not right,” I said. “Tell me about it again. From the beginning. Every step of the way.”
“I’ve gone over and over it,” she said dully. “I don’t know how many times I repeated it to how many assistant district attorneys and cops.”
“Once more,” I said urgently. “I’ll help you with it. You came to the Reece house a little before seven-thirty. The cab driver let you off. He drove away?”
“Yes. He was an old, gray-haired man. He turned around and drove away. I saw the cab disappear.”
“Were there any cars parked in the area? In the driveway? Along the side of the road?”
“I didn’t see any,” she said listlessly. “It was a bad night. The visibility was poor.”
“You rang the bell,” I said. “There was no answer. How long did you wait?”
“A moment. It was cold and drizzly. I was getting wet. I banged on the door then. I tried the knob. The door was unlocked.”
“So you went inside. There was a light in the living room. Did you look around?”
“Yes. I didn’t see anybody.”
“Then you heard a radio upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Music?”
“No, some announcer.”
“Could you hear what he was saying?”
“No, his voice was indistinct.”
“So you walked upstairs. You saw a light coming from under a door. You knocked. The voice stopped. How do you know it was really the radio?”
“What else could it have been? It wasn’t Manette Venus.”
“It could have been a man,” I said. “He was inside the room with Manette Venus.”
“But Manette opened the door when I knocked. There was nobody else in the room.”
“She didn’t open the door immediately,” I said. “She asked who it was. There was a closet there. The man had a chance to hop inside.”
Ellen thought for a moment. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “So Manette opened the door and let you in. There was an argument. She asked you to leave. She went to the dressing table and got a gun. Where was the gun?”
“In a drawer.”
“So she brought the gun out. You moved forward and grabbed it. Where?”
“By the barrel. I twisted it away from her. Then I was holding it by the butt. I had my finger inside the trigger guard.”
“But you were struggling with her,” I said rapidly. “You swung around with your back to the closet door. You slipped. Something hit you on the back of the head. You lost consciousness. When you awoke, you were lying on the floor with the gun in your hand. One shot had been fired. Manette was lying dead with a single bullet through her. So you thought you did it. But you didn’t. Instead, the man had come out of the closet. He hit you on the head, took the gun from your hand and shot Manette.”
She looked at me for a long time. “It’s no use,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I fired the gun. I remember it. I heard it. I saw the explosion. I felt the gun buck in my hand. It was afterwards that I swung around and struck my head.”
I didn’t know what to say then. The matron moved over to us. “Something’s wrong,” I said hurriedly. “I know you didn’t do it. You couldn’t have done it.”
She stood up. “Thanks,” she said. “I have to go back now.”
I reached out and grabbed her. I kissed her. Hard. There was no response. She was limp in my arms. She stepped back. Her eyes were lusterless. “It’s no use, Ralph,” she whispered. “You get an A for effort. Nothing more.”
CHAPTER 15
I went out with Ed Newpole the same afternoon. We met Captain Angsman of the Danford Police and Chet Granger, who had come back from Boston. We made the weary, tiresome rounds of saloons, poolrooms and flophouses. We questioned dozens of people. We found out nothing about Al Yekiti.
“He’s not in Danford,” Angsman said. “If he was, we’d have found his car.”
“He could have dumped it and sneaked back,” Newpole said.
“He’s not in Danford,” Angsman said.
In the evening Newpole and I were at Troop E Headquarters watching the out-of-state teletype reports come in. There was nothing on Yekiti yet. Newpole, his hat on the back of his head, moved back and forth along the bank of teletype machines, looking at one, then another. I leaned against the wall. My arm was aching quite badly and I was holding it up to slow the circulation a little.
I was about to go upstairs to my room to get some aspirin when Stan Maleski, the duty sergeant, poked his head into the communications room. He said, “Phone call for Lieutenant Newpole.”
Newpole went out to the duty office. When he came back, he said to me, “It was Chet Granger. He’s latched onto something. You want to go?”
“I’ll get my hat,” I said.
We hurried out of the barracks and into the black headquarters sedan. Newpole said, “Granger called from a public paybooth at Conti’s. He trailed Fulton Reece there. Reece came with the same blond girl. And she’s not his granddaughter, either.”
It was on the turnpike, five miles outside of Danford. A long, low-slung wooden frame building with blue-shuttered picture windows in front. There was a large parking area. There was also a yellow neon sign that said Conti’s in script lettering.
Inside, to the right of the checkroom, there was a small foyer. To the left there was a long narrow room which was the bar. There was a warm pungent odor of hickory smoke. The main dining room was softly lighted. It held rows of square, white-clothed tables. The room was almost completely filled with diners. In the center was a large brick grill. In front of it a cook, wearing a tall chef’s hat, was barbecuing steaks over an open charcoal fire.
The headwaiter came up and spoke to Newpole. Newpole whispered something to him. The headwaiter smiled politely and moved away. In the main dining room, the chef flipped a steak high into the air, catching it deftly as it came down.
Lieutenant Granger came out of the bar. He met us in a corner of the foyer.
“Where are they?” Newpole asked him.
Granger moved his head imperceptibly. “On the main floor,” he said. “Three tables to the left of the grill.”
I looked. I saw Fulton Reece seated there. Next to him was an eighteen-year-old girl in a gold lamé dress. Her ash-blond hair was cut short and slicked to her head. Beside their table was a bucket stand with a bottle of wine in it.
“The man lives well,” Newpole said. “He can’t do it by taking in boarders. Who’s the girl, Chet? Did you find out?”
Granger chewed on his gum. “Her name is Dolly Pine. She’s on the habit. Heroin.”
Newpole’s mouth tightened. “She’s pretty young to be on the habit.”
“She’s not only an addict,” Granger said. “She’s also on record for passing drugs.”
“But she’s only a baby,” I said.
“Some start kind of young,” Granger commented. “The Danford cops have a long record on her.”
“How long has she been with Reece tonight?” Newpole asked.
“Since nine. He picked her up in his car. She was waiting on a Danford street corner for him. They drove here. They hung around the bar for a half-hour.”
“They served her liquor here?”
“No. Miss Pine didn’t have anything to drink.”
“We’ll have to take them in,” Newpole said heavily. “Chet, you wait here for us.”
He motioned to me and we went across the floor of the main dining room. We threaded through the tables and stopped in front of Fulton Reece. He looked up, startled. The girl stared at me with cold little eyes. She smoothed her dress at the waist and moved a pink tongue along her
lips. She had a round, angelic, innocent face.
Reece lumbered to his feet, his face waxen. The pupils of his eyes were tiny, dreamy, half-closed. “Evening, Lieutenant Newpole,” he said, slurring his words a little. “Hello, Lindsey. You here for a steak? Best steak house within fifty miles. Oh, but wait a minute. This is Miss Pine, daughter of a business associate of mine. Her father is going to join us later. Dolly, this is Detective-Lieutenant Newpole and Patrolman Lindsey of the State Police.”
Dolly Pine smiled at us. Newpole said, “If you’ve finished your steak, Mr. Reece, I’d like you to—”
Reece interrupted feverishly. “What happened to your arm, Lindsey? There’s a bandage showing under your sleeve. Oh, wait, don’t tell me. I remember now reading about it in the papers. You were in a shooting scrap with that Yekiti hoodlum. Sit down and have a drink with us. Both of you.”
“No, thanks,” Newpole said quietly. “We’d like you to come with us, Mr. Reece. There are some questions we want to ask you at the barracks.”
“What kind of questions?”
“If you’ll step outside, please, we’ll tell you.”
“I can’t leave Miss Pine. Her father—”
“We’ll take Miss Pine, too.”
“You’ll what?” Reece asked with false belligerency. “See here, Lieutenant, you can’t take this young girl along. Who do you think you are?”
“We know all about Miss Pine,” Newpole said.
“Know what? Don’t talk gibberish.”
“The Danford Police have a record on Dolly since she was sixteen,” Newpole said evenly. “Now, Mr. Reece, if you’re ready—”
“I’ll pay the check,” Reece whispered. He looked wildly for the waiter. Then he threw some bills on the table. The waiter came over and started to say something.
“Take it all,” Reece said hurriedly, with a quick gesture of his hand. “Take it all.”
Dolly Pine stood up, her manner indifferent, her face an inanimate mask, her thin lips firm and unconcerned. She walked ahead of us, her small round hips moving rhythmically. Reece followed. Newpole and I brought up the rear.
In the foyer we were met by Granger. Reece said, “I have my car here.”