'That's all?'
'That's all. Except I want you to continue to keep this quiet.'
The newly-born hope in the young doctor's eyes faded. 'But they already know ...'
'Nobody knows -' Clancy began and then stopped, understanding beginning to dawn on him. 'Who did you tell? Who?' He pushed to his feet and bent over the young doctor, glowering. 'Well, who?'
'Mr. Rossi - Pete Rossi, his brother,' the doctor said haltingly. 'That's how I knew they wouldn't really ... He came here and wanted to know where his brother was. I ... I couldn't lie.' His eyes fell. 'I was afraid.'
There was a stunned silence, broken at last by Doc Freeman.
'Great!' he said softly. 'That's broken it. All right, Clancy; now are you going to call in Homicide?'
'Wait!' Clancy said. He straightened up, thinking furiously, and then leaned over the doctor again, urgently. 'What time was he here? This Pete Rossi?’
‘It was three o'clock, about ...'
'Did you show him the body?'
'Yes ...'
Clancy nodded. His eyes were sharp. 'What did he say when he saw the knife?'
'He didn't say anything. And I didn't say anything . ..' The young intern raised his head. 'But he was the only one. I didn't say anything to Mr. Chalmers when he was here this morning ... I told him what you said I should ...'
Clancy straightened up again, his dark eyes icy. The others were watching quietly.
'Now you listen to me, Doctor,' he said, his voice low but deadly. 'You had my sympathy but you're losing it rapidly. This time I'm telling you not to say anything, and this time I mean it. If you breathe a hint of this I'll have you up on a mutilation charge so fast you won't know what happened. And you can figure out for yourself what that will mean to your career.' He swung to the others. 'Let's get out of here.'
He turned in the doorway. 'One more thing. You'll probably get a call from the maintenance man, or you'll hear about it from whoever he does call. He'll say we came in the back way and were snooping around. You might mention we were here to check the plumbing, or the sanitary conditions, or anything you can think up . ..'
He didn't wait for an answer but led the way quickly to the elevator. They dropped silently to street level and walked out of the lobby under the surprised gaze of a nurse who couldn't recall their entering. On the sidewalk they regrouped.
'Clancy,' Doc Freeman said desperately, 'how long are you going to keep up this idiocy? Call Homicide and let them take over. Now that Pete Rossi knows . ..'
'He won't say anything,' Clancy said positively.
'Why not?'
'I don't know, but he won't. If he were, he would have done it already.'
'You're tired, Clancy,' Doc Freeman said. 'You need a good meal and a good night's sleep.'
'I need all that,' Clancy said, 'plus a good swift kick in the pants. I ought to listen when somebody talks, even somebody as stupid as Barnett. I wasted half a day on something I should have seen at once. Maybe if I hadn't we'd have been someplace now.'
Kaproski finally seemed to have gathered the ends of the conversation together.
'So if the doctor didn't kill him,' he said with a puzzled frown, 'then we're right back where we were before. The character that blasted him in the hotel is the killer.'
'Right,' Clancy said.
'And we don't know who that is.'
'That's right,' Clancy said. 'But I'll bet I know somebody who does. That Renick woman. I was too damned polite to her this morning, but the time for chivalry is long gone. We're going over there and get a simple answer to a simple question: who shot our pal Johnny Rossi? And why?' He turned to Doc Freeman.
'Doc, thanks a million. You'll get your cadaver for slicing in another day at the most. Right now I'd appreciate it if you forgot how you spent the evening.'
Doc Freeman smiled. 'Are you trying to get rid of me, Clancy? I'm sticking with you. The evening's ruined anyway.'
Clancy shrugged, if you want. Well, let's go.'
He walked to the curb, holding his arm up to attract the attention of any passing cab. In the light of the bright headlights that an occasional motorist thought necessary to use, his slender figure looked worn and haggard. Doc Freeman swore under his breath and made one last attempt to impose reason.
'Clancy, you're nuts. Turn this over to Homicide and go home and get some rest. You're bushed.'
'You're the one that's nuts, Doc. If I went to sleep right now I'd wake up in Greenpoint with a blue uniform and silver buttons.' A cab swooped in to the curb; Clancy reached for the door-handle. 'Or on suspension, and you know it. Come on.'
Saturday - 8.05 p.m.
Mary Kelly was not in sight when their cab drew up before No. 1210 West 86th Street; nor was Quinleven. As the four men emerged from the taxi, Clancy glanced about; the sound of high-heels tapping regularly on the sidewalk came to them. A woman came up the street from the direction of Columbus Avenue, passed them without speaking, and entered the lobby of a small apartment a bit further down the street. Clancy nodded to the others and followed. Mary Kelly was waiting for him inside of the apartment foyer.
'Well?'
Mary Kelly was a woman in her late thirties, with a rather plain but pleasant face, and a very decent figure. Her outstanding feature was her eyes, but she didn't know it. She also didn't know why nobody had ever called her just plain 'Mary' instead of her full name of 'Mary Kelly', but they hadn't. Mary Kelly also thought that a nice man like Lieutenant Clancy shouldn't live without a wife to warm his bed; Clancy was not entirely unaware of her feelings. He recognized the compassion that his tired figure evoked in her warm brown eyes, and he repeated his question a bit more brusquely than was quite necessary.
'Well? Is she still inside?'
'She's still there,' Mary Kelly said. She looked up to the drawn shades of the second-floor apartment across the street. 'The lights are still on.'
'Where's Quinleven?'
'He's around in the back, pretending to do something with the telephone wires.'
Clancy nodded. 'We're going in to talk to her. I'll leave Kaproski outside with you.' A woman came through the locked door leading from the interior of the apartment; she glanced curiously at the two standing in the foyer. Her eyes passed over Mary Kelly's face and she muffled a smile of sympathy. Clancy swallowed and lifted his hat to Mary Kelly.
'Thank you for the information, ma'am,' he said, and quickly followed the smiling woman into the street. Mary Kelly's rich voice came softly from behind.
'You're welcome,' she said.
The others were waiting where he had left them. He walked over quickly.
'Kap, you stay down here with Mary Kelly. We don't want to look like a battalion going in there. Stanton, come on.' He looked at Doc Freeman. 'You too, if you want, Doc.'
The three crossed the street and entered the remodeled brownstone. They paused at the downstairs door while Clancy fiddled with the lock a moment. The door opened; they climbed the steps to the second floor, and Clancy stopped outside of the door sporting the fancy pair of dice. A band of light shone from beneath the ill-fitting door-frame. He lifted his hand for silence and then bent over, listening carefully. There was no sound within the apartment; he nodded and tapped peremptorily on the door. There was no answer. He frowned and then rapped louder; still there was no answer. He swung about, staring at the others with growing concern.
'Maybe she's taking a shower,' Stanton offered. Clancy shook his head. Stanton shrugged. 'Or just in the john . ..'
Clancy's hand came up to rap again; then with a muttered curse he plunged his hand into his pocket for his keys instead. The second one opened the flimsy lock; Clancy dragged his keys back with a jerk and the three crowded in. One look at the torn room and Clancy pulled Stanton from the doorway and swiftly shut the door.
The eyes of all three swung about the room; the place was a shambles. Someone had ripped the pillows from the chairs and the sofa; they lay strewn about the floor. The books from the bookc
ase had been torn from the shelves and were scattered about; the drawers of a small desk in one corner had been pulled out and hung there drunkenly, their bare interiors exposed. Papers from the desk were lying in disarray on the carpet. Even the carpet had been pulled loose from its tacks at one edge and ripped back. The three men stared at each other. Without a word they deployed, going into the other rooms of the apartment.
The kitchen was empty. Clancy had just started to leave it when a low cry came from Stanton. He swung away, hurrying down the darkened hallway past the bathroom to the bedroom. He and Doc Freeman bumped in the doorway and then paused, staring with frozen faces at the body on the bed.
The long blond hair was tangled, as if a huge hand had grabbed it and twisted, brutishly trying to pull it out by the roots. The body was nude, the full breasts marked with a series of cigarette burns that trailed down the flat stomach, across the thighs to the groin. The mouth was taped with adhesive tape, the hands and feet drawn tautly apart in a spread-eagle and taped tightly to the corner-posts of the bed. A knife handle stood stark between the lush breasts. A trail of blood, already drying, led across the stomach and the curved side to a dark puddle where the wide hips depressed the mattress. The violet eyes stared at the ceiling fixedly, no expression marking them.
Doc Freeman hurried forward. Stanton was already struggling fiercely with the bonds that held the body to the bed; Doc's hand detained him even as his eyes took in the condition of the body.
'Leave her alone. Don't touch anything. She's dead.'
Clancy stood in the doorway, shocked. He came slowly forward, standing alongside the bed, staring down, studying the tortured body, his mind churning. He clasped his hands tightly before him. Doc Freeman heaved a sigh.
'Who is she, Clancy?'
'Her name is Renick. She was ... connected with Rossi, somehow ...'
'How?'
'I don't know,' Clancy said dully. 'I don't know…'
'Well,' Doc Freeman said, 'you'd better call Homicide.'
Clancy didn't answer. Slowly he turned, staring about the room as if the very repressed fury in his bitter eyes could force the silent furniture to reveal the gruesome details of what it had witnessed. One dresser stood along the wall intact; a highboy on the other wall demonstrated drawers that had been torn open. Clothing was strewn about the floor; a woman's purse had been upended, its contents scattered, and the purse itself discarded in one corner of the room. Clancy nodded fiercely to himself.
'Well?' Impatience had made Doc Freeman raise his voice. He dropped it at once. 'What are you waiting for? There's a telephone in the other room. Let's get Homicide in on this.'
'No!' Stubbornness etched Clancy's voice. His glance came back to the bed. 'Not yet!'
'Wait a second, Clancy,' Doc Freeman said, his voice hardening. Stanton stood watching the two, his face expressionless. 'I'm a doctor, but I'm a police officer, too. I was a damned fool to listen to you at the hospital. I'm calling this in.'
Clancy brought his eyes up from the bloody sight on the bed. His mind seemed to be far away. 'No, Doc. Not yet ...'
'That's what you think, Clancy! You're so tired you don't know what you're doing anymore. You're getting punchy. I'm calling this in.' Doc Freeman started toward the living room but Clancy stepped in front of him, clamping a rigid hand on his arm.
'There's no time, Doc! Don't you see that? If Homicide comes into this right now, we'll all be tied up here for hours. And the killer will get away once and for all!'
'What are you talking about?'
'I'm telling you!' Clancy dropped the other's arm and swept his hand about the room. 'Look at this! Go out there and look at the living room again! You say you're a police officer? Well, what do you make of this mess, then?'
'The killer was looking for something, of course.' Doc Freeman's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. 'Are you trying to say you know what he was looking for?'
'Of course,' Clancy said, almost contemptuously. 'Steamship tickets. To Europe. And he found them.'
'Steamship tickets?'
‘It would take too long to explain, Doc, but take my word for it.'
'And how do you know he found them?'
'Look around you,' Clancy said, almost fiercely. 'He tore the whole living room apart. And half of this room. And then he stopped before he got to that dresser. Why? He certainly wasn't disturbed; Mary Kelly and Quinleven are still outside spotting the place. He stopped because he found what he was looking for. Or because she finally talked and told him where they were. And that's when he stabbed her.'
He shoved his battered hat back on his head, jammed his hands into his jacket pockets, and started to stride about the restricted space. His mind was racing. 'That's why there's no time to lose. He may be catching that boat tonight.' He stopped in mid-stride: 'Of course it's tonight!'
'Why?'
Clancy stared down at the floor, his brain gnawing at the tangle of facts he had, trying to unravel them, to make sense out of them.
'Because of an airplane reservation,' he said at last, simply, convincingly. 'And a room that didn't have a razor, or a clean shirt, or even a spare pair of socks ...'
Doc Freeman stared at him. 'What's the tie-up?'
'I don't know,' Clancy said quietly. 'But I'm sure.'
Doc Freeman shook his head. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Clancy. Maybe you're right - you often are. But maybe you're not. I'm a police officer, and so are you. And so is Stanton. Failure to report a homicide is more than serious for us. You know that.'
'Six hours,' Clancy said tightly. 'Six hours at the most. After that it will probably be too late, anyway. If this isn't cleaned up in six hours, I promise I'll report the two killings to Homicide and turn in my badge at the same time.'
'You won't have to turn in your badge.' Doc Freeman looked at him. if you report this now, the worst you're liable to get is a stiff reprimand. But if you wait six hours, or even six minutes, you won't have to turn in your badge.'
Clancy looked at him speculatively. 'And a killer will escape,' he said softly. 'Or doesn't that count?'
'You say.'
'I say. And I'm sure.'
Doc Freeman stared at him. There was a moment's silence.
'You're a fast talker, Clancy,' the Doc said at last. 'And I'm a damned fool.'
'Thanks, Doc.' Clancy nodded in appreciation. He turned to Stanton. 'How about you, Stan?'
Stanton looked at him evenly. 'The way I see it is this, Lieutenant - when you get in a hole as far as you've got, about the only way out is through the other end. I'm with you, Lieutenant.'
'Good. Then let's get out of here and back to the precinct. There's work to be done.'
'What about Mary Kelly?' Doc asked. 'Aren't you going to check on who came in and out of the building?’
‘I'll check with her,' Clancy said. 'But let me do the talking. There are enough of us police officers with our necks out a mile; no sense in putting Mary Kelly on the spot, too.'
'She wouldn't mind, Lieutenant,' Stanton said. 'Not for you.'
Clancy chose to disregard this; he led the way to the front door. They backed out, and Clancy paused to reach up and flick off the living-room lights. He locked the door and the three tramped slowly down the steps to the street. They crossed to the other curb; Mary Kelly and Kaproski came over to them. Mary Kelly's eyes lifted to the now-darkened windows.
'She's in bed,' Clancy said quietly. He studied the upturned face of the plain-clothes woman. 'Did she have any visitors tonight?'
'A number of people went in and out of the building tonight,' Mary Kelly said. She made a moue. 'I don't know if they visited her or not. I didn't pay any particular attention to them; I wasn't told to.' Her eyes left the Lieutenant's face to cross the street to the apartment windows there. 'Do we break it up for now? Or is there any chance she'll be getting up and getting dressed to go out now that you've talked to her?'
'She won't be getting up,' Clancy said. 'You can call it off. Can you get hol
d of Quinleven?' Mary Kelly nodded. 'All right, then. That'll do it for today.'
He turned and started walking toward the corner of Columbus, but Stanton caught at his arm.
'Your car, Lieutenant,' Stanton said, pointing down the block. 'I left it down the street this afternoon.'
Clancy stared at him. This afternoon? Was it only this afternoon? He was suddenly conscious of his extreme weariness, his near-exhaustion, the long hours since he had last had a good night's sleep. Well, he thought suddenly, if this case isn't cleared up pretty soon, I'll have plenty of opportunity for rest. Plenty. He turned toward the car.
'I forgot.'
And as he clambered slowly into the driver's seat and accepted the key from Stanton, his mind wakened long enough to needle him. And what else did you forget, Lieutenant Clancy? it asked him seriously, urgently. What else did you forget?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday - 9:10 p.m.
Clancy pulled into his white-lined slot in the garage of the 52nd Precinct, locked the gears by shifting into reverse, and turned off the ignition. He sat there a moment back of the wheel, savoring the quiet of the nearly-deserted garage, smelling the familiar mustiness, relaxing; and then reached forward and switched off the headlights. Beside and behind him the car doors opened as the others climbed out. He shook his head, staring about him. The drive back had been completely automatic; his mind had been elsewhere. He couldn't even remember turning from the street into the narrow driveway leading down the alley to the garage entrance, and that had only been a moment before. He sighed, rubbed his face, opened the door at his side, and stepped down. The others were waiting for him silently, patiently, on the dim, oily concrete.
They walked together down the corridor that led to the front of the old building. As they passed the darkened entrance to his office, Clancy paused; he reached in with one hand and flicked on the lights. He nodded to the others.
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