Don’t Crowd Me

by Ed McBain

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  Sam laughed in my face. “Let’s put it this way, Romeo. I don’t like you. I don’t think I’ve ever liked you. It would take very little to get me real sore at you. In fact, just looking at my wife’s underwear on your bed makes me a little angry.”

  He scooped up Jean’s things, gathering up the blouse and skirt she’d lost in her strip, picking up the shoes and stockings from the floor.

  “Damned angry,” he muttered. “And I’d hate for the troopers to find another body on this bed. Understand?”

  “You make it pretty plain.”

  “I’m glad you understand.”

  “I’m happy for you, too.”

  “And don’t get snotty with me,” Sam warned.

  “Why don’t you leave, Tarzan?” I asked. “You’ve made enough ape noises for one night.”

  I saw the sudden spark in Sam’s eyes, and I clenched my fists unconsciously. But the spark died almost immediately, and he walked to the door, Jean’s clothes slung over his arm, the bra I’d found in Johnny’s cabin with them. At the door, he turned and said, “Remember what I told you.”

  “Good night,” I said cheerfully.

  He grunted and was gone.

  All right, all right, so I’d leave his wife alone. What the hell, there were plenty of pebbles on the beach—and Lake George had a lot of beaches. So I’d leave her alone. I’d had enough of that particular family anyway. And I didn’t feel like fooling around with a jealous husband, no matter how tight his alibi was.

  I nodded my head in agreement with myself, tossed a clean sheet over the bed and started to undress. I hopped in then and pulled up the blanket.

  I cursed as I remembered the lantern, got up to blow it out, and crawled under the warm blanket in the darkness.

  The hell with Jean Fowler, and the hell with her husband.

  But I had to admit that I’d enjoyed her impromptu dance a lot. Even if she was drunk.

  CHAPTER TEN

  If you can get used to finding dead bodies, you can get used to anything. You can even get used to finding people waiting for you when you wake up. Last night, I hadn’t minded so much when I woke up to find Jean sitting in my chair.

  This morning, I didn’t particularly relish the idea of Sheriff Owens waiting in that same chair, his eyes fastened on me as I sat up in bed.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “H’lo,” I answered grumpily.

  “I see you’re a bear in the morning, too. My wife and I have an agreement. I’m the same way, you see. She doesn’t say a word to me until I’ve washed and had breakfast. We get along fine that way.”

  “Your wife is a sensible woman,” I said, sleep still in my voice.

  “Very sensible. But her husband is a cop.”

  I rubbed my eyes and asked, “Aren’t you supposed to have a search warrant or something?”

  “Man’s home is his castle, eh?” Owens said, chuckling a little. “You’re a suspect in a murder, you know.” He paused. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I just thought I’d drop in.”

  “I don’t talk in my sleep, if that’s why you dropped in.”

  Owens chuckled again. “I know. I was listening.”

  “I wouldn’t have said anything even if I did talk in my sleep.”

  Owens made a widespread gesture with his hand. “You’ve got nothing to hide, anyway.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and reached for a cigarette.

  “You shouldn’t smoke before eating breakfast,” Owens said.

  “Thanks.” I lighted the cigarette and blew the smoke through my nose.

  “Bad for your lungs.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Christian.”

  “Do you always sleep in your underwear?” he asked.

  “Is this official or just curiosity?”

  “Just curiosity.”

  “Always. Even in the dead of winter. Always.”

  “That’s bad for you, too. Unless you change them in the morning.”

  “I change them every Fourth of July.”

  “Whether you need to or not,” Owens added without a trace of a smile.

  “What’s on your mind? You didn’t come here to discuss my dirty underwear.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you went to Glen yesterday?”

  “I did tell you. I told you just before I left.”

  “I don’t mean after you found the body. Before you found her, that’s when.”

  I wondered whether I should tell the truth, decided to chance it. “It slipped my mind. I did go to Glen.”

  “This your handwriting?” Owens asked, handing me a slip of paper.

  I looked at the pencil-scrawled message:

  LOIS. WENT TO GLEN. BE RIGHT BACK.

  My signature was under it.

  “I wrote that,” I said.

  “When?”

  “Right after lunch yesterday.”

  “Was this before or after you asked Mrs. Fowler to go along for a boat ride?”

  “Before.”

  “Did Mrs. Fowler see this note?”

  “No.”

  “You know something?”

  “What?”

  “There’s no proof whatever that you and Mrs. Fowler were on the lake when the girl was killed. For all I know, you could have been in on this together.”

  “Someone saw me on Glen,” I said impulsively.

  “Oh? Who?”

  “The guy at the commissary.”

  “What time was this?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How come you didn’t mention this before? A witness can be an important thing in establishing an alibi.”

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  “Did this guy see Mrs. Fowler too?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Owens studied my face carefully. “How do you know he didn’t see her?”

  “She stayed in the boat,” I lied.

  Owens stood up suddenly. “Get dressed, Richmond. I’ll wait for you outside. We’ll want to take a little ride to Glen, I think.”

  He stepped out of the cabin and I pulled on a pair of dungarees and a shirt. I slipped my feet into my loafers and walked out to meet him.

  “I’m hungry,” I said. “Can’t this wait?”

  “Afraid not,” Owens replied.

  “Well, then, let’s get it over with quick.”

  “Sure,” Owens replied.

  We walked down to the police launch and climbed aboard. Owens sat in the stern, and I sat alongside him, watching his face as we sped toward Glen.

  There was intelligence in those blue eyes, I thought. Intelligence and a veiled shrewdness that was deceptive. He was an outdoor man, too, a man whose solid frame was lithe and powerful. I wouldn’t like to fight with Owens, I decided. He’d be a tough man to beat, a relentless enemy. It would be a good idea to keep him for a friend.

  He was only doing his job, I supposed. After all, I could have killed Lois. Well, that would all be cleared up when we talked to the guy at the commissary.

  “Here we are,” Owens said.

  The launch pulled in to the dock and a few lollers in swim suits stared at the troopers as they piled ashore. I climbed out after them, feeling like a dope peddler caught in a narcotics raid. Owens fell in step beside me, his head bent as we walked toward the commissary.

  The same tall guy was behind the counter, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the blond hair on his arms. He was still wearing the green eyeshade and his eyes were a pale blue beneath it.

  “Help you fellows?” he asked politely.

  “I’m Sheriff Owens of the Lake George police,” Owens said. “Wonder if you can answer a few questions.”

  The blue eyes darted under the green eyeshade, taking in the uniforms of the troopers, falling to the holsters
at their sides, and then shifting imperceptibly to me.

  “Sure, sure, glad to help any way I can.”

  “Fine,” Owens said. He stepped aside to give the proprietor a clear view of me. “Ever see this man before?”

  The proprietor lifted his eyeshade and peered out, like an old man squinting at his newspaper with his glasses on his forehead. He studied my face intently, scratching his chin with his thin fingers.

  “Nope,” he said at last, “can’t say I did.”

  I started to protest when Owens cut in. “Sure? Take a good look.”

  The proprietor looked again, almost breathing down my shirt front this time. “Hard to say, you know. Get an awful lot of people here every day.”

  “You remember me,” I prompted. “I was here yesterday. I asked you where I could find a phone booth. You were stacking gum.”

  “Nope,” he said, shaking his head, “can’t say I … just a second now, just a second. You the fellow asked to borrow a dime?”

  I let out a deep breath. “Yes,” I answered, “that’s me.”

  “Why sure I remember. Damnedest thing ever, let me tell you. Stranger comes up and asks to borrow a dime. Damnedest thing ever.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Sure, I remember this fellow.”

  “What time was he here?” Owens asked.

  “Well now, I can’t rightly say,” the proprietor answered, glancing at his watch unconsciously. “Let me see, now.”

  We waited in silence while he thought.

  “Must’ve been about two, two-thirty as I figure it. I was just stacking my gum, I remember when this fellow comes over wanting to know where a phone booth was. I’d just gotten the gum from the mainland about ten minutes before that. I usually get a delivery about one forty-five every day. Not gum all the time, you understand. Meat, milk, stuff like that. I get a delivery in the morning, too.”

  “You’d say it was about two o’clock then?” Owens repeated.

  “Yep, about that time. Why? Say, I hope no one’s in trouble.” He darted inquisitive eyes at me.

  “No, no trouble at all. You happen to see a young lady with this man?”

  The proprietor thought this one over carefully, suspicious about our visit now, and sure that his testimony would have to be repeated in court. “Nope. Nope, there wasn’t no young lady with him. Not the first time, and not the time he asked for the dime.”

  “Thanks,” Owens said. “Come on, Richmond.”

  We walked back to the launch in silence, a parade of kids in swimming trunks following us. When we reached the boat, Owens motioned me aboard and then jumped down beside me.

  On the way back to Little Harbor, he said, “Well, that clears you for a while. Of course, you could have killed the girl and then gone over to Glen, couldn’t you?”

  “Sure. I could have killed her last week, too, hid the body under my bed, and then brought it out—just to make things interesting.”

  “You could have. Except that the coroner has already established the time of her death.”

  I stopped trying to be funny when Owens wasn’t in a receptive mood.

  “You know that Mr. Fowler’s alibi has been checked, of course?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’ll want to talk to some of the people who were at that party the other night. I’ll drop you off at your place and then I’m taking a little trip over to Big Burnt. That okay with you?”

  “You’re the boss,” I said.

  We rode the rest of the way in silence. The launch pulled alongside my dock and I leaped ashore. Owens called over the roar of the engine, “Sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”

  “Yep,” I answered.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he shouted, waving his arm over his head.

  I walked up to my cabin and sat down on the front step. I was puzzled about a lot of things, but I couldn’t seem to find any of the right answers. Maybe I should have told Owens all about Johnny, and the shots when I’d searched his cabin. But if I was a suspect now, where would I be after reporting another murder? And where the hell was Johnny’s body?

  I saw Jean step out of her cabin, and was ready to duck inside but she saw me and waved. I glanced over to see if Sam were anywhere in sight. I didn’t feel like having another run-in with him.

  She wore a wide peasant skirt and a sleeveless blouse. Her hair had been recently washed and it glistened brightly in the morning sun. She was barefoot.

  She walked over to where I was sitting and put her hands behind her back.

  “Guess I was a little looped last night,” she said in a soft voice.

  “I guess so.”

  “Forgive me, will you?”

  “Nothing to forgive.”

  “Was I very naughty?”

  She worried the ground in front of her with her big toe, looking down at it as she spoke.

  “A little,” I said.

  She reached out in a wide arc with her foot, tracing a circle in the loose earth, and the sunlight streamed through her skirt, throwing her long legs in silhouette.

  “Were you angry with me?”

  “No.”

  She looked up at me and smiled then. “I seem to have lost all my underwear.”

  I smiled back and casually said, “Your husband picked it all up.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There … there wasn’t any trouble, was there?”

  “None to speak of. I don’t think he liked the idea too much, though.”

  “No, no I don’t imagine he would. He’s a bit jealous.”

  “A bit,” I agreed.

  “Well … since he’s picked it up for me …” she hesitated, as if deciding whether to stay or go. I looked at her face again, marveling at the resemblance between her and Lois.

  “Why’d you kiss me the other night?” I asked.

  “What?” Her blue eyes opened wide.

  “At the party. Why’d you do it?”

  “Oh,” her voice dropped.

  “Well?”

  “I … I wanted to.”

  “Why?”

  She lowered her head again, began moving her foot in the sand, stretching her leg, the sun dancing in her skirt, revealing the long-limbed suppleness of her body.

  “I … just wanted to.”

  “You must have wanted to pretty badly to do it before all those people.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, a little harshly. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Then why are you shouting at me?” she asked petulantly.

  “I’m not shouting!”

  “You are too!”

  I grinned at her and she lifted her head and smiled back, the sun tinting the edges of her hair a ripe golden color.

  “I just wanted to kiss you, that’s all,” she said, half-apologetically.

  “All right,” I said softly.

  “I like you, Steve.” This time her head was lifted, and her eyes were wide open, and she met my gaze fully.

  “I like you, too.”

  “I like you a lot.”

  “Is that why you alibied me yesterday afternoon?”

  She didn’t answer for a minute.

  “Is it?” I repeated.

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble.” She glanced over her shoulder quickly and then threw herself into my arms, her hair cushioning her head against my chest. “Oh, Steve, why did you do it? Why did you have to kill her?”

  Shocked, I held her at arm’s length. “What?”

  “I had to give you an alibi. I couldn’t see you get taken to jail because of her. Steve, Steve, why did you kill her?”

  “You’re crazy,” I said, surprise tinging my voice. “You’re absolutely nuts.”

  “I know you did it, Steve. But why, why?” Her eyes were tragic now, and I thought she’d begin to cry any minute.

  “Now don’t be silly,” I said, trying to console her. “I didn’t kill Lois. For
God’s sake, why would I want to kill her?”

  She threw herself into my arms again, squeezing my biceps with her hands. “You did, Steve. You did.”

  “Jesus,” I said, my voice rising, “get a hold on yourself, and stop talking like that. The woods are full of cops.”

  “Steve, why did you do it?” she sobbed. “Why, why?”

  “For Christ’s sake, shut up. I didn’t kill Lois.”

  “Who did then? Who did, Steve? Who, if not you?”

  “The same person who killed Johnny,” I blurted, “that’s who!” I bit my tongue as soon as it was out, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now.

  She kept her head on my chest, still sobbing. “What … what are you talking about?” she asked between sobs.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “You said something about Johnny being dead. What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, tell me. Please, Steve, tell me. Please.”

  She looked up at me pleadingly, her face beginning to crumble again.

  “He’s dead,” I said. “I found him in your cooktent, stabbed.”

  A look of fright crossed her face. “That’s … that’s impossible. Johnny is home now.”

  “He’s not home. I called his mother yesterday. They’re not expecting him until September.”

  “But … but … where is he … where is he then?”

  “I don’t know. I found him dead, though, deader’n a doornail, six days ago.”

  “Oh Steve,” she said, “how terrible!” She held me tighter and I put my arm around her and led her into the cabin. If she was going to have a crying jag I wanted to comfort her without the benefit of Sam’s company.

  She didn’t have a crying jag, though. She just sat down in the chair and looked stupefied. She hooked her heel on the rung and lifted her knee, and her skirt slid back over it a little way. Her other leg was stretched out in front of her, the toes pointing toward the roof.

  “Are you sure, Steve?” she asked, turning to face me.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you told the police?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “No.”

  She moved forward a little, her heel still caught in the rung, and her skirt edged upward, revealing the flesh of her thigh.

  “Is that wise?” she asked anxiously.

  “I think it’s best. What the hell can I prove without a body?”