While Freddie did this, I searched the body, knowing very well there’d be nothing on him to give us any sort of a clue. After that we went away from there as fast as we could travel. Near Fifth Avenue, I drew him into a drug store with booths and we sat down in one. I ordered something — I don’t remember what — as an excuse to stay there.
I said: “Listen, Freddie, you’re in a mess. I don’t believe you killed Hazy, but you’ll have one hell of a time making the cops think you didn’t.”
“But why? I hardly knew the man.”
“You know any man whose kisser you push in and you banged Hazy up plenty while you were both in stir. It prevented you from getting a parole and that’s motive enough. Besides, Hazy was making things tough for me. We’re prison pals and friends outside too. It could be construed that you took it upon yourself to stop Hazy from bothering me — permanently.”
About the time I was half through telling him how he stood, Freddie began sweating. He said: “Rick — if this is a frame, it’s the second pulled on me. The more I’ve thought about it, the less I think I ran down that man three years ago. Now — this.”
“Yeah — this, and it makes the other frame look like a traffic violation. They burn guys for murder. Take it from me, I barbered enough of those babies to know. You’ve got to get under cover.”
“But where? Where can I go, Rick?”
I said: “Stay here and keep your eyes open. If anything that looks like copper comes through the door, you ease out. Never mind me. I can take care of myself and I’ve got me an alibi for the time of the murder. They may have kept me out of your reach, but they alibied me at the same time. I’m going to make a phone call.”
There was a character known as Horseface — for no reason I could think of — who’d bunked with me in prison. Since his release, he’d settled down in Connecticut but he wasn’t averse to helping an old friend. I got Horseface on the wire and gave him the story.
“Sure,” he said quickly. “I remember Freddie. Nice kid and even if he knocked off Hazy, I’d still give him a hand.”
“What we need,” I said, “is a comfortable spot if possible. He may have to stay out of circulation a long time.”
“I got me a little house near Wilton,” Horseface told me. “You take the Ridgefield Road until you clock seven and three-tenths miles on your speedometer. Turn off there and the first place you come to will be it... A house far back where it can’t be seen from the road. I’ll have the pantry stocked right away.”
“The people who own it won’t be back unexpectedly?” I asked.
“Nix the idea, Rick. It belongs to my mother-in-law and I sent her to Mexico City for her health, she thinks. Freddie can stay there for six months.”
I thanked him, promised to return the favor and went back to the room. Freddie had a car and he gave me the keys and a note to the garage people so I could drive it out. Brother, if Lieutenant Westover ever saw that note!
Forty minutes later I slid from behind the wheel and let Freddie take over. I’d left him in a cafe. The kid didn’t forget me. He’d palmed a double rye and ginger and handed me the glass. Between sips I gave him explicit instructions.
“Another thing,” I added, “nobody is to know where you are.”
He whistled softly and I knew what was coming. “I... phoned Lila while I was waiting for you to come with the car. Rick, I had to tell her.”
“Sure — and whoever else might be listening or have Lila spotted so she can be trailed to the spot where you’re hiding. The damage is done. Forget it. I’ll keep an eye on Lila too and maybe turn up something — or somebody. Get going now — and drop me uptown near Community Hospital.”
“You going to see Aunt Kate?”
“Yes. I think Anna and June are mixed up in this pretty deeply. Anna works at the hospital and Kate will know about that. All I have to do is worry whether or not she’ll tell Westover I’ve been making passes like a sleuth.”
“She won’t, if you ask her not to,” Freddie said. “Kate’s an old war horse, but otherwise O. K. And Rick, thanks a million.”
He let me off a block from the hospital. I’d never seen the place before. It was of moderate size and, I guessed, privately endowed. A nurse who looked glamorous even in uniform winced when I said I wanted to talk to Kate Bradford.
“You a friend of hers?” she asked.
I nodded. What the hell difference did that make? I found out one hour and ten cigarettes later. About the time I began feeling like an expectant father, I saw that nurse stroll past the room where I was supposed to be waiting. I called her inside.
“Now look here,” I said. “When I told you I was a friend of Kate Bradford that was a facetious statement. We don’t happen to be friends. In fact, I hate her guts, but I’ve got to see her.”
The nurse grinned. “Why didn’t you say so before? We make a point of letting Kate’s visitors wait around for four or five hours. Puts them in a nice mood when she finally shows up and believe me, mister, that kind of a mood matches Kate’s as it is twenty-four hours a day.”
“As bad as that?” I asked.
“Worse than that. This, my friend, has been a red letter day in Community Hospital. She tried to boss Dr. Harper. The poor old dear — meaning Kate — didn’t know Harper was a big shot. He didn’t take the bossing, but he did do some bawling out and when he finished, Kate was like a dishrag. We’re already taking up a collection for Dr. Harper’s Christmas present.”
“So she runs the joint,” I reflected out loud.
“She thinks she owns it. I’d better get her. At ten she’s due to assist on a gall bladder operation. Once she’s scrubbed, nobody can see her. Wait here.”
Kate came down a few minutes later, stiffer and starchier than ever. For my money I’d rather see Old Man Death himself than her kisser if I was on my way out. I wondered what the mortality rate in this hospital was.
“Yes, Mr. Trent. You wanted to see me.” She didn’t ask questions. She stated them.
I had to carry on a campaign to convince her. “Before you have me thrown out of here,” I begged, “keep in mind the fact that I am trying my best to help Ernest. There have been two murders already, perhaps more in the offing and one of them could be the death of your nephew. Aunt Kate, I need your help.”
“My name,” she told me in a voice she reserved for student nurses, “is Miss Bradford to you. How can I help? I’m a head nurse, not a policeman.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but you look and act like both. Now wait — this is important. Anna Doane — your nephew’s first wife — works here, doesn’t she?”
“She is a nurse. She was a nurse when she married Ernest. I saw nothing wrong in allowing her to work here.”
“But she is involved, Miss Bradford, in these murders. Don’t ask me how nor how much. I don’t know yet. All I want from you is a statement saying that Anna was here tonight. Since six o’clock.”
“To my knowledge she was. Good evening, young man.”
“O. K.,” I said and picked up my hat. “I’ll send flowers to Ernest’s funeral too.”
She hesitated and curiosity got the better of her. She stood there, waiting for me to talk.
“Anna,” I told her, “gets nothing if Ernest dies. That much I know. Neither does June. So they have no motive and yet I’m convinced they are mixed up in it. Could they hate Ernest sufficiently to take sides against him?”
“Ernest put Anna out of the house when June was less than a year old. I protested against it, but Ernest always was headstrong. Certainly they have reason to hate him.”
“And will you keep watch on Anna? Tell me if anyone comes to see her...”