The Corpse Next Door: A Detective Sergeant Randall Mystery. John Farris
Читать онлайн книгу.
know it wasn’t his night.”
Roxy nodded. “I guess I’d better. Thanks for telling me, Sam.”
I had no taste for that kind of talk. It was part of the discontent I had felt for a long time, the arrangements Gulliver had, with Miller Starkey, with Roxy. I suppose there was nothing wrong with us taking advantage of Starkey’s discount. It was no secret in town. And there was nothing wrong with Roxy’s poker games in the hotel, although not so many people knew about that. Or the women outside the bus station and servicemen’s center, who dressed well and were discreet about it and you would never guess what they were. They paid by the month, to Gulliver, and had helped finance a new squad car. There was nothing really wrong, you could argue, because no money went into private pockets. But I felt the discontent, because the Starkey girls liked to drive fast, and some day there might be a wreck, and Starkey would remind Gulliver of the discount. And I remembered the look in Roxy’s eyes, as if he were seeing something a long way off, a bigger and better Roxy, and I remembered the story. I wondered if anybody could really handle Roxy, as Gulliver said he could.
“I had a talk with Miller Starkey downstairs,” I said.
Gulliver dropped clear cylinders of fresh ice into his new drink. “How’s the old man getting along?”
“All right, I guess. He wanted to talk about Jimmy Herne.”
“He would,” Gulliver said, tasting his drink, then adding a touch of sparkling.
“He said that Smithell called him the afternoon before he was murdered. Smithell told Starkey he was sending Jimmy Herne in next day to buy a suit. Jimmy had the money. He was going to learn responsibility by paying for it himself.”
Gulliver was about to say something, but didn’t. The mood had been as light and slender as fine blonde hair and I had snapped it. He was concentrating on recalling it but I knew he wouldn’t.
“He had thirty bucks to buy the suit with,” I said.
Gulliver went back to his chair. Roxy watched both of us as if he were peeking through a keyhole.
“Ah, let’s forget about Smithell and the kid, for God’s sake,” Gulliver said. “I put in a hard week’s work on that one. It’s finished. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Jimmy had exactly thirty bucks in his pocket when he was picked up,” I said stubbornly, trying to make him see it.
It’s a funny thing about Gulliver. When he’s starting to burn, he tries to flex that stiff left wrist. The harder he tries, the madder he gets, because it only moves a quarter-inch in any direction. He was trying to flex it now, looking at it with shiny intent eyes.
“Now, listen, Bill. I don’t know why you keep talking after I told you to shut—to keep still. Roxy’s our host and I don”t want to bother him with police business. I’m telling you to forget it.”
Maybe I wouldn’t have kept on then, but he picked exactly the wrong tone to use, bawling me out like I was a kid. “Jimmy said he got the thirty bucks to buy a suit. It looks like he was telling the truth. Maybe he was telling the truth about the other things. Maybe he didn’t kill Smithell.” I threw in the last without even thinking, because I was getting sore.
Gulliver gave me a furious look. He stood up, leaving his drink on the floor. “All right, if you’re not going to shut up I’ll get out of here. I don’t know what gets into you, Bill. I just want a quiet little evening and you go and spoil the whole goddam thing. I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Bill.”
Roxy said, “Sam, do you want me to call—”
“No!” Gulliver raged. “I’m too upset for any pigeon plucking tonight. I’m just going to get the hell out of here.”
He started for the door and was halfway across the rug when he remembered he had left his shoes in front of the chair. He hesitated, then turned around and went back for them. He carried the shoes in one hand and made for the door and I felt a laugh coming. I suppressed it because there is nothing funny about Gulliver when he’s angry.
The door closed behind him and there was a loaded silence that slowly became weary.
I drank from my glass, feeling sort of ridiculous and a little bit sorry. “Well, I’ve got to open my goddam mouth,” I said. “I’m sorry, Roxy.”
“You ought to be,” Roxy said, but his voice, as usual, was mild. “I suppose it’s none of my business, but you ought to forget about it, Bill. Or take it up with him later. You picked a bad time.”
“I know.”
Roxy went through his ritual of putting a little whiskey down. “We were talking about you, Bill, before you came up. Gulliver likes you, Bill. He really likes you. And respects you, too. He knows you’ve got the guts to stand up to him. But you shouldn’t overdo it. I don’t know much about the case you and Sam have been working on. I know he was satisfied that the case was closed. You seem intent on reopening it.”
“Look, Roxy,” I said, “I’m a cop. I’m supposed to keep an open mind about the cases I investigate. Jimmy Herne confessed he killed Smithell. I don’t think he would have said one word about killing the old man if he hadn’t done it, because he had everything to lose. Gulliver worked on him, though. Nothing unusual. But he worked on him. I don’t know how much the kid could take. I don’t know if he could have been made under duress to confess a murder he didn’t commit. I thought the kid was guilty. I still think so. I learned tonight that one of the statements Jimmy made, about where he got the money, stands up. That’s all. I was just telling Gulliver. Maybe I said more than necessary. He shouldn’t have told me to keep my mouth shut in front of you.”
“Let’s forget it, Bill. Sam will cool off. I was saying, Bill, that he likes you. We were talking about Endicott earlier.”
Endicott had been assistant chief of police until his death two month ago. “Yeah?”
“Gulliver thinks you could fill that job and retain your present duties—for forty dollars a month more.”
“It would be nice,” I said, surprised.
Roxy smiled. “You’ve got a good future in Cheyney, Bill. I thought you’d like to know. That’s why I’m cautioning you not to assert yourself so much with Gulliver. Not that you should let yourself be pushed around. You know.”
“I think so.”
“If you’re staying for dinner,” Roxy said, “I’ll call down to Rudy and have him put your steak on.”
While he was on the phone, I went to his desk and mixed myself another drink, not thinking about Gulliver now, but about Roxy, who thought I had a good future in Cheyney. Roxy with the eyes of cold purpose. I was lucky to be so popular with everybody.
LATER, WHEN I WAS LEAVING, I WALKED OVER TO THE SHED-like bungalow that housed some of Roxy’s kitchen help and a couple of chambermaids who cleaned up in the motel. One of them had been involved in some petty thefts on the grounds a couple of months before, but I had let her off after she had restored the pilfered property to the transient guest, who didn’t want to be delayed by pressing charges.
I got her to step outside with me. She was a gray, wispy woman on the other side of fifty. “Been behaving yourself, Barbara?”
“Oh, sure, Sergeant. Sure I have. I’ll never do anything like that again.”
“Look, Barbara. You have a set of master keys, don’t you? I mean, you have to get into all the cabins and rooms and places.”
“Sure. I have a set and so does the other girl.”
“Does she clean Roxy’s office, or do you?”
“I do. Buts—”
“I just want the key for an hour or so. I’ll get it right back to you. Nobody will know.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Sergeant!”