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BOOK: Cynthia Manson (ed)
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The overall impression he gave was
that of the up-and-coming clubman. Golf lessons, voice lessons, plastic
surgery, and a good tailor—these had all helped; but nothing had been able to
destroy a certain aura of alertness, ruthlessness. He was a man you would never
joke with. He had made his own laws, and he carried the awareness of his own
ultimate authority around with him, as unmistakable as a loaded gun.

Vince went over to the fieldstone
fireplace, drink in hand, and turned, resting his elbow on the mantel.

“Very clever, Fowler. ‘Only if you
happen to have an opinion. ‘ I have an opinion. The kid is no good. That’s my
opinion. He’s a cheap punk. I didn’t admit that to myself until he tried to put
the hook on that loan company. He was working for me at the time. I was trying
to break him in here—buying foods.

“But now I’m through. Fowler. You
can tell Jim Heglon that for me. Terrafierro will back it up. Ask him what I
told him. I said, ‘Defend the kid. Get him off if you can, and no hard feelings
if you can’t. If you get him off, I’m having him run out of town, out of the
state. I don’t want him around.‘ I told George that.”

“Now there’s this Garrity thing. It
looks like I went out on a limb for the kid. Going out on limbs was yesterday,
Fowler. Not today and not tomorrow. I was a sucker long enough.”

He took out a crisp handkerchief and
mopped his forehead. “I go right up in the air,” he said. “I talk too loud.”

‘You can see how Heglon is
thinking,” Dan said quietly. “And the police. too.”

“That’s the hell of it. I swear I
had nothing to do with it.” He half smiled. “It would have helped if I’d had a
tape recorder up here last month when the Garrity girl came to see what she
could sell me.”

Dan leaned forward. “She came here?”

“With bells on. Nothing coy about
that kid. Pay off, Mr. Servius, and I’ll change my identification of your
brother.”

“What part of last month?”

“Let me think. The tenth it was.
Monday the tenth.”

Jane said softly, “That’s why I got
the impression she wouldn’t sell out, Dan. I had lunch with her later that same
week. She had tried to and couldn’t.”

Vince took a sip of his drink. “She
started with big money and worked her way down. I let her go ahead. Finally,
after I’d had my laughs, I told her even one dollar was too much. I told her I
wanted the kid sent up.”

“She blew her top. For a couple of
minutes I thought I might have to clip her to shut her up. But after a couple
of drinks she quieted down. That gave me a chance to find out something that
had been bothering me. It seemed too pat, kind of.”

“What do you mean, Servius?” Dan
asked.

“The setup was too neat, the way the
door
happened
to be open a crack, and the way she
happened
to be
working late, and the way she
happened
to see the kids come out.

“I couldn’t get her to admit anything
at first, because she was making a little play for me, but when I convinced her
I wasn’t having any, she let me in on what really happened. She was hanging
around waiting for the manager of that loan outfit to quit work.

“They had a system. She’d wait in
the accountant’s office with the light out, watching his door. Then, when the
manager left, she’d wait about five minutes and leave herself. That would give
him time to get his car out of the parking lot. He’d pick her up at the corner.
She said he was the super-cautious, married type. They just dated once in a
while. I wasn’t having any of that. Too rough for me, Fowler.”

There was a long silence. Dan asked,
“How about friends of your brother, Servius, or friends of Kelly and
Castrella?”

Vince walked over and sat down,
facing them. “One—Johnny didn’t have a friend who’d bring a bucket of water if
he was on fire. And two—I sent the word out.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like things quiet in this end of
the state. I didn’t want anyone helping those three punks. Everybody got the
word. So who would do anything? Now both of you please tell Heglon exactly what
I said. Tell him to check with Terrafierro. Tell him to have the cops check
their pigeons. Ask the kid himself. I paid him a little visit. Now. if you don’t
mind. I’ve got another appointment.”

They had finished their steaks
before Dan was able to get any line on Connie Wyant. On the third telephone
call he was given a message. Lieutenant Wyant was waiting for Mr. Fowler at 311
Leeds Street, Apartment 6A, and would Mr. Fowler please bring Miss Raymer with
him.

They drove back to the city. A
department car was parked in front of the building. Sergeant Levandowski was
half asleep behind the wheel. “Go right in. Ground floor in the back. 6A.”

Connie greeted them gravely and
listened without question to Dan’s report of the conversation with Vince
Servius. After Dan had finished, Connie nodded casually, as though it was of
little importance, and said, “Miss Raymer, I’m not so good at this, so I
thought maybe you could help. There’s the Garrity girl’s closet. Go through it
and give me an estimate on the cost.”

Jane went to the open closet. She
began to examine the clothes. “Hey!” she exclaimed.

“What do you think?” Connie asked.

“If this suit cost a nickel under
two hundred, I’ll eat it. And look at this coat. Four hundred, anyway.” She
bent over and picked up a shoe. “For ages I’ve dreamed of owning a pair of
these. Thirty-seven fifty, at least.”

“Care to make an estimate on the
total?” Connie asked her.

“Gosh, thousands. I don’t know.
There are nine dresses in there that must have cost at least a hundred apiece.
Do you have to have it accurate?”

“That’s close enough, thanks.” He
took a small blue bankbook out of his pocket and flipped it to Dan. Dan caught
it and looked inside. Loreen Garrity had more than $1100 on hand. There had
been large deposits and large withdrawals—nothing small.

Connie said, “I’ve been to see her
family. They’re good people. They didn’t want to talk mean about the dead, so
it took a little time. But I found out our Loreen was one for the angles—a
chiseler—no conscience and less morals. A rough, tough cookie to get tied up
with.

“From there, I went to see the
Kistners. Every time the old lady would try to answer a question. Kistner’d
jump in with all four feet. I finally had to have Levandowski take him downtown
just to get him out of the way. Then the old lady talked.

“She had a lot to say about how
lousy business is. How they’re scrimping and scraping along, and how the girl
couldn’t have a new formal for the Christmas dance tomorrow night at the high
school gym.

“Then I called up an accountant
friend after I left her. I asked him how Kistner had been doing. He cussed out
Kistner and said he’d been doing fine; in fact, he had stolen some nice retail
accounts out from under the other boys in the same racket. So I came over here
and it looked like this was where the profit was going. So I waited for you so
I could make sure.”

“What can you do about it?” Dan
demanded, anger in his voice, anger at the big puffy man who hadn’t wanted to
lie to the police.

“I’ve been thinking. It’s eleven
o’clock. He’s been sitting down there sweating. I’ve got to get my Christmas
shopping done tomorrow, and the only way I’ll ever get around to it is to break
him fast.”

Jane had been listening, wide-eyed.
“They always forget some little thing, don’t they?” she asked. “Or there is
something they don’t know about. Like a clock that is five minutes slow, or
something. I mean, in the stories...” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

“Give her a badge, Connie.” Dan said
with amusement.

Connie rubbed his chin. “I might do
that, Dan. I just might do that. Miss Raymer, you got a strong stomach? If so,
maybe you get to watch your idea in operation.”

It was nearly midnight, and Connie
had left Dan and Jane alone in a small office at headquarters for nearly a half
hour. He opened the door and stuck his head in. “Come on, people. Just don’t
say a word.”

They went to the Interrogation Room.
Kistner jumped up the moment they came in. Levandowski sat at the long table,
looking bored.

Kistner said heatedly,” As you know,
Lieutenant, I was perfectly willing to cooperate. But you are being
high-handed. I demand to know why I was brought down here. I want to know why I
can’t phone a lawyer. You are exceeding your authority, and I—”

“Siddown!” Connie roared with all
the power of his lungs.

Kistner’s mouth worked silently. He
sat down, shocked by the unexpected roar. A tired young man slouched in, sat at
the table, flipped open a notebook, and placed three sharp pencils within easy
reach.

Connie motioned Dan and Jane over
toward chairs in a shadowed corner of the room. They sat side by side, and Jane
held Dan’s wrist, her nails sharp against his skin.

“Kistner, tell us again about how
you came back to the office,” Connie

said.

Kistner replied in a tone of
excruciating patience, as though talking to children, “I parked my car in my
parking space in the lot behind the building. I used the back way into the
lobby. I went up—”

“You went to the cigar counter.”

“So I did! I had forgotten that. I
went to the cigar counter. I bought three cigars and chatted with Barney. Then
I took an elevator up.”

“And talked to the elevator boy.”

“I usually do. Is there a law?”

“No law. Kistner. Go on.”

“And then I opened the Men’s Room
door with my key. and I was in there maybe three minutes. And then when I came
out, the man I described brushed by me. I went to the office and found the
window open. I was shutting it when I heard—”

“All this was at two o’clock, give
or take a couple of minutes?”

“That’s right, Lieutenant.” Talking
had restored Kistner’s self-assurance.

Connie nodded to Levandowski. The
sergeant got up lazily, walked to the door, and opened it. A burly, diffident
young man came in. He wore khaki pants and a leather jacket.

“Sit down.” Connie said casually.
“What’s your name?”

“Paul Hilbert, officer.”

The tired young man was taking
notes.

“What’s your occupation?”

“I’m a plumber, officer. Central
Plumbing. Incorporated.”

“Did you get a call today from the Associated
Bank Building?”

“Well. I didn’t get the call, but I
was sent out on the job. I talked to the super, and he sent me up to the
seventeenth floor. Sink drain clogged in the Men’s Room.”

“What time did you get there?”

“That’s on my report, officer. Quarter
after one.”

“How long did it take you to finish
the job?”

“About three o’clock.”

“Did you leave the Men’s Room at any
time during that period?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“I suppose people tried to come in
there?”

“Three or four. But I had all the
water connections turned off, so I told them to go down to sixteen. The super
had the door unlocked down there.”

“Did you get a look at everybody who
came in?”

“Sure, officer.”

“You said three or four. Is one of
them at this table?”

The shy young man looked around. He
shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Thanks. Hilbert. Wait outside.
We’ll want you to sign the statement when it’s typed up.”

Hilbert’s footsteps sounded loud as
he walked to the door. Everyone was watching Kistner. His face was still, and
he seemed to be looking into a remote and alien future, as cold as the back of
the moon.

Kistner said in a husky, barely
audible voice. “A bad break. A stupid thing. Ten seconds it would have taken me
to look in there. I had to establish the time. I talked to Barney. And to the
elevator boy. They’d know when she fell. But I had to be some place else. Not
in the office.

“You don’t know how it was. She kept
wanting more money. She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, except when there
was money. And I didn’t have any more, finally.”

“I guess I was crazy. I started to
milk the accounts. That wasn’t hard: the clients trust me. Take a little here
and a little there. She found out. She wanted more and more. And that gave her
a new angle. Give me more, or I’ll tell.”

“I thought it over. I kept thinking
about her being a witness. All I had to do was make it look like she was killed
to keep her from testifying. I don’t care what you do to me. Now it’s over, and
I feel glad.”

He gave Connie a long, wondering
look. “Is that crazy? To feel glad it’s over? Do other people feel that way?”

Connie asked Dan and Jane to wait in
the small office. He came in ten minutes later; he looked tired. The plumber
came in with him.

Connie said, “Me, I hate this
business. I’m after him, and I bust him, and then I start bleeding for him.
What the hell? Anyway, you get your badge. Miss Raymer.”

BOOK: Cynthia Manson (ed)
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