CHAPTER 18

  The switchboard buzzed and it was an outside call and I said, “Banks Hotel, good evening,” and a voice wanted to talk to Mr. Frey and Mr. Frey was in Room 208 and I plugged the voice into 208 and rang the bell and Mr. Frey answered. There wasn’t any more to the job than that. I looked at the clock and then made a note on a form that 208 had had an outside call at 7:58 P.M. I noticed that 312 had been called at 7:32 P.M. At 6:44 there had been a call to 204 but he hadn’t been in, and the message left was call Dottie.

  I love to stick my nose in other people’s business, and I’m an eavesdropper in addition, and there was a whole list of personal phone calls for a week in front of me. There had been a call to 418 on Saturday morning at 8:12. Probably Kilgore calling Terry, I thought jealously. Who was he to call my girl anyhow? Somebody had also called her on Friday evening. Kilgore, it seemed to me, was running things into the ground.

  I looked on the list of those present to see if there was anyone else in the hotel I knew, and came on Roamer’s name. Samuel T. Roamer. Room 305. Message for Mr. Roamer on Saturday morning. Call your Boston office. Mr. Roamer had called Boston about half an hour later. Talked for seven minutes. His next call had been at 3:30 P.M. the next day, Sunday.

  He wasn’t as interesting at George Parsons, Room 410. Mr. Parsons had a phone call at 9:14 A.M., but he hadn’t been in and so the message read call Sugar. At 9:52 he called Sugar, and then he probably went out, because at 10:07 he got a call from Gloria, and at 10:23 he had one from Avis, and ten minutes later one from Bobbie. While I was admiring Mr. Parsons’ popularity another outside call came, and a soft Southern voice asked for Mr. Jahj Passuns, please. Mr. George didn’t answer his phone—probably worn out—so at the caller’s request I made a note that Gloria had called again, and would he please call her as soon as he got in. I was putting the note in his key box when Terry came back, shined and polished and sparkling and wearing a charcoal brown suit with a red man-cut shirt, red shoes, and red discs in her ears.

  “I’d like to have a room, please,” she said, trying to keep a serious expression on her face.

  “Yes, ma’m,” I answered. “Do you prefer an eastern or western exposure?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “From one you can watch the moon come up, from the other you watch the moon go down.”

  “Do you really have rooms like that?”

  “Yes, ma’m,” I assured her. “But not here. However, I’ll be glad to take you where there are rooms like that. For example, I have a little place out in the country that I think you might like. If you just let me put your bag in the car, I’ll—”

  “Donald Ivy,” she laughed, “sometimes I think you’re almost serious.” She went around to the end of the counter and ducked under. “Now get out of here and wait for me over there in the lobby. Did anything happen while I was away?”

  “Gloria called George. I don’t know that I approve of you living on the same floor with George. You better move out. If you just let me put your bag in my car, I’ll—”

  “Get out of here, Don. People are looking at us.”

  I ducked under the counter and walked over and sat down. The guy who was supposed to take over behind the counter came in about five minutes later, and after they’d checked the cash in the register she came out and we drove to my house.

  “This is a nice little place,” she said. “Which way is east and which way is west?”

  “West is out the side windows here in the living room. East is from the dining room, or upstairs in my room.”

  “I guess I’ll miss that moon tonight,” she said. “I’m not going to stay up long enough to watch it set.”

  I started my Hugo Winterhalter album of Music by Starlight, and lit the candle on the old Chinese sideboard and the kindling under the charcoal in the grill. It was so romantic you could darn near cut it with a fork. Terry relaxed on the comfortable love seat and sighed.

  “I do like it here. This is better than old 418, with no men in the room at any time. Maybe I will stay, after all.”

  “I now intend to ply you with liquor, which will dull your inhibitions and make you amenable to reason. What would you like?”

  “Oh, anything.”

  “The last girl who said that woke up on a boat bound for South America, where she became a rich gaucho’s plaything and learned to do the mambo,” I warned her. “However, I shall mix you a gimlet. Wait here.”

  “What’s a gimlet?” she asked.

  “A concoction famous for its vitamin and mineral content.”

  I got a silver bowl full of ice and gin and sweetened lime juice and solid-stem champagne glasses.

  “Now watch closely,” I said, putting two or three pieces of ice into each glass, and pouring the gin and the lime juice on top, and adding a little water. “That’s a gimlet. Give it a chance to cool, and swish it around a little, and then drink it slowly. All your cares will vanish.”

  “I’ll bet this gets me new ones, though,” she sighed, almost timidly. “But I don’t care. I always knew I’d be a sucker for candlelight and soft music and some guy like you.” She looked at me and the stars were in her eyes for sure.

  “You’re a darling,” I told her softly, raising my glass. “And here’s to us, for a long, long time.”

  “That is a good drink,” she said, after a while. “Don’t go too serious for me tonight, Don darling. I couldn’t stand it tomorrow if, if anything …you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, and I took the music off and put on some Chopin mazurkas. “How’s that? Have another gimlet?”

  “Just one more, Don.”

  Her hand fell across mine. I had a hell of a time making gimlets with my left hand, but I did it. You learn something new every day. As a matter of fact I was a little mixed up myself, but I blamed it on the candles too. I’m just an old softy and I knew it, and if I wasn’t careful I was going to get caught, and I didn’t know whether I cared or not.

  The second gimlet was just as good as the first, and the clear turtle soup was delicious, and the steak was perfect. Even the cherries jubilee cooperated with me and blazed up splendidly.

  It was a long time later, after the coffee cups had been taken away and the brandy was gone from the crystal glasses and the first of the candles had burned itself out that she took her mouth away from mine and whispered that she had to go home, she thought. It was after midnight, and still no sign of Judy. I didn’t argue. We drove slowly back to Tombury and the hotel, and I promised to call her right after the hearing and tell her what happened.

  “No matter what,” she said.

  “No matter what, Terry.”

  “Good night, Don. You’re a sweet guy.” And she was gone into the lobby.

  I drove home as fast as I safely could, my thinking a jumble. Sullivan’s car was parked in the drive. I drove around it, cutting ruts in the lawn, and put the Triumph in the garage. I went inside and there they were, drinking coffee.

  “Hi, kids,” I said. “Have a good time? Can I get you a drink or something?”

  “You look like you’d just smuggled something into the country,” Judy said. “I had a wonderful time. You ought to meet John’s mother, Uncle Don. She’s a marvelous person. And cook! I don’t want anything, thanks. How about you, John?”

  “I’ve got everything I want,” he said. That cop turned a neat phrase. My admiration for him increased a little. Then I saw Judy’s suitcase on the floor near the living room door.

  “You going somewhere?” I asked. “Not back to Springfield at this time of night, I hope?”

  “No,” she said. “But the only way I could get Mother to let me stay down here for a single minute was for John to promise her that I’d have police protection. She insisted on it, Uncle Don. So I’m going over and spend the night with his mother, and he’ll be there too. Then tomorrow, after the hearing, he’s going to drive me home.”

  “Who’s going to protect me, if it’s that dangerous here?” I wanted to know. “How about me coming over to your mother’s too, sarge?”

  “I can get a cop to come and stay with you if you really think you need one,” he said.

  “Nuts,” I said. “You didn’t by any chance bring my gun back from the laboratory, did you?”

  “I can’t do that, Ivy. You know that. Think you need one?”

  “I think I need a company of Marines, at least. However, go away and leave me to my fate. Ivy the lone wolf will defend his castle with claw and fang, as usual.” The telephone rang and I answered it. It was another call for Sergeant Sullivan.

  “For you,” I said. “Why don’t you just move your mother over here and let me go to her house? People seem to think you live here.”

  He laughed, a genuine he-man laugh, and Judy looked at him admiringly as he walked across the room and picked up the phone. I heard him give a few non-committal yesses, and then he said something about “a mile south on Eddystone Road,” and then he hung up.

  “Dammit,” he said. “A car went off the road about a mile south of here and I have to run down and get a report on it. I’ll be back in about an hour. Think you’ll be safe, honey?”

  I judged he wasn’t asking me the question, and so did Judy. “I think so, John,” she smiled. “Uncle Don is a pretty good protector. But hurry back, please.”

  “I’ll blow the horn three times when I come in the lane,” he said. “Just so you’ll know who it is. You’ll be all right.”

  When the door had closed behind him I turned to Judy. “Well, honey,” I said. “If I had my glasses on and could see better I’d swear you had stars in your eyes.”

  “I hope so,” she said seriously. “He’s a real sweet guy.”

  “No doubt,” I agreed. “From your point of view. My question is, what kind of a guy does he think I am?”

  “That pistol of yours did kill Billie Mataze,” she said. “They can prove it. They draw a line from the hole in the stairs and where the bullet was found, and it would go right through where her chest would have been if she was standing where they think she was.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said. “Who pulled the trigger?”

  “Well,” she said, “he doesn’t want to think that you did, he told me that. He hopes you didn’t do it, especially since …” Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “Oh Uncle Don, everything’s so damned mixed up!”

  “That’s all right, kid,” I said. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a hunch something’s going to break soon. And you know I didn’t kill Billie Mataze or anybody else. Now don’t let that cop come back here and find that you’ve been crying or he’ll arrest me. Want a handkerchief?” I held mine out.

  “No,” she said, taking it and dabbing at her eyes. “I just want to be happy. Why don’t things work out the way they should, anyhow?”

  “They damned seldom do, Judy. You have to learn to ride with them. That’s known as growing up. When am I going to see you again?”

  “At the hearing tomorrow—or I guess it’s today, isn’t it? I’ll be there, and after it’s over we’ll all celebrate.”

  “Call me in the morning, after you get up, will you?”

  “Sure, Uncle Don. What’s the number here?”

  “I’ll write it down for you,” I said, and got a piece of paper and jotted the number on it. There was the noise of a car coming in the drive. I looked at my watch. “He got back fast,” I said. “He’s only been gone ten minutes.”

  The car door slammed. “Hey,” I said. “No horn! Maybe it isn’t Sullivan! Here’s the car keys, kid. Get out in the kitchen and keep quiet, but listen. If this is what I’ve been expecting, get on the phone as soon after—get on the phone or get in the car and get in touch with Dr. Dann and the police as fast as you can! Now scram!”

  She was in the kitchen as a heavy knock came on the front door. I turned off the inside hall light and turned the porch light on, and opened the door a crack.

  “Open up, Ivy,” Roamer said. “I’m coming in. And put your hands out where I can see them all the time. This is business.” His right hand was under the left side of his coat, waist high.

  “What the hell do you want at this hour of the morning?” I demanded. “You got no call to muscle in on me like this.”

  “Shut up,” he said, shouldering his way into the hall. “Get in the living room!” I backed away from him. There was a mean look in his eyes. “Face the wall, with your arms up!” I faced the wall and he searched me quickly. “Turn around, but keep away from me, Ivy!”

  “Who the hell do you think you are, Roamer, coming in here and pushing me around? You got no right in the whole goddamned world to come in here. Let’s see your warrant.”

  “What were you doing in Boston on Friday night?” he barked at me.

  “What makes you think I was in Boston?”

  “Don’t give me that stuff, Ivy! I know you were in Boston. Don’t get me confused with your local cops, Ivy, who got sawdust for brains. We don’t work that way. You were in Boston, in Shirley’s and the Green Button, to be specific.”

  “So what?”

  “So you crossed a state line, Ivy. That makes it a Federal rap. You may be smart enough to beat the laws in England, Ivy, but you can’t do it in the good old U.S.A.”

  “Can it,” I said. “You’ll be singing God Bless America in a minute. What crime did I commit besides crossing a state line?”

  He laughed real dirty. “Fleeing jurisdiction in this state, for one.”

  “But I must have fled right back.”

  “Assault with battery in Shirley’s, to say nothing of not paying the check.”

  “Sounds like the electric chair for me, if you can make it stick,” I said. “Go on. You didn’t come out in the middle of the night for this.”

  “All right. How’d you like another murder rap, Ivy? I’m arresting you for the murder of Antonio Gardelli on Saturday morning. Put out your hands with the wrists together.”

  “Go to hell,” I said.

  He snaked a heavy snub-nosed revolver out of a holster under the left side of his coat. “Don’t fool with me, Ivy. Stick out your hands!” He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his left hip pocket.

  For a moment I thought of taking the gun away from him, and then I decided it wouldn’t work. He was too ready. The bracelets dropped over my wrists and locked.

  “Out the front door, Ivy. Slow and easy. You try to run and you’ll find out what a .357 magnum slug feels like.”

  I opened the front door and walked out, heard him slam the door behind him. I started slowly down the path toward the drive. “Say goodbye to the old homestead, Ivy,” Roamer said behind me. “Because you aren’t ever coming back, not after killing Gardelli.”

  It was a warm evening, but suddenly I felt as though a cold and evil wind had blown across the back of my spine. I shivered. I hadn’t killed Gardelli, but they did have the goods on me for the little things Roamer had listed. With my reputation I was through for a couple of years.

  We passed the side of the house, and I longed to turn back and look at it, but I kept on. Then I heard a soft thunk like someone batting a softball, and then there was the noise of a body falling. I stopped. All I could hear was a frog peeping down by the pond. I started to turn around, slowly.

  CHAPTER 19

  There, in the light from the porch, stood Judy, a piece of firewood in her hand. There, on the grass, lay Roamer. He looked dead.

  “Dreamland,” Judy giggled.

  I dropped down on my knees beside Roamer, felt his heart. It was still beating.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “You have just beaned an F.B.I. man. I hope they put us in adjoining cells, so we can talk to each other over the long, empty years.”

  “I didn’t know,” she said. “He was taking you away and I just didn’t know what to do. What can he do now?”

  “Get these handcuffs off me first,” I said. “Look in his pockets for a key.”

  She found it in his trouser pocket, freed me. I took my handkerchief and wiped the handcuffs clean, then put them back in his hip pocket.

  “Now put that hunk of wood back where you found it while I drag him inside. Then come on in. We don’t have much time before Sullivan gets here.”

  I dragged Roamer’s limp body back to the porch where I rubbed the bleeding swelling on the back of his head against the edge of the top step. Then I dragged him into the house and spread him out on the living room floor, with a towel under his head to protect the rug. I went back to the yard to get the gun he had dropped, picked it up with my handkerchief and put it in the holster. After that I got on the phone and called Dr. Dann and told him there had been an accident and a man had a serious bump on his head and we needed him. He said he would be right out. There was nothing to do but wait.

  Judy was shaking like a leaf, and I gave her some brandy to drink. “Pull yourself together, kid. Remember, he won’t know what happened. You were upstairs all the time, when they ask you. I’ll say he came, slapped the handcuffs on me, and started to take me away. He must have slipped on the front porch and hit his head. I heard him fall. I called for you. You came down and found him lying at the bottom of the porch steps and I was feeling his heart. You got the key and unlocked me, and we dragged him in. Then we called the doctor. Can you remember all that?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t do the right thing, did I? I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it now. Just keep your part of the story straight. Nobody’ll ever know you hit him, except me, and I’m not about to tell.”

  “You’re a great guy, Don,” she said. “Maybe the greatest guy I ever heard of. They can’t prove you killed Tony what’s-his-name, can they?”

 

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