Kells said: “Granquist.” He looked at her for a moment, then went over to the window, turned his head slightly towards Beery: “Miss Granquist.”
Beery said: “Hello, Tom,” spoke into the telephone in a low, even monotone.
Kells turned from the window and crossed slowly to Granquist. He sat down on the arm of her chair and took the bottle out of her hands and took out the cork. He got up and went into the dinette and poured the whiskey into a glass and brought it back to her.
He sat down again on the arm of the chair. “Don’t take it so big, baby,” he said very softly and quietly. “You’ve got a perfect case. The jury’ll give you roses and a vote of thanks on the ‘for honor’ angle — and it’s the swellest thing that could happen for Fenner’s machine — it’s the difference between Bellmann’s administration and a brand new one.”
“I didn’t do it, Gerry.” She looked up at him and her eyes were dull, hurt. “I didn’t do it! I left the snaps and stuff in the office downstairs when I went out — the bag was a gag... ”
Kells said: “I knew they weren’t in the bag — you left it in the chair when you went into the bathroom.”
She nodded. She wasn’t listening to him. She had things to say. “I ran back here when I left Fenner’s. I picked up the stuff at the office — had to wait till the manager got the combination to the safe out of his apartment. Then I came up here to wait for you.”
She drank, put the glass on the floor. She turned, inclined her head towards Bellmann. “He was like that — he must have come here for the pictures — he’d been through my things... ”
Kells said: “Never mind, baby — it’s a set-up... ”
“I didn’t do it!” She beat her fist on the arm of the chair. Her eyes were suddenly wild.
Kells stood up.
Beery finished his report, hung up the receiver. He said: “Now I better call the station.”
“Wait a minute.” Kells looked down at Granquist and his face was white, hard. “Listen!” he emphasized the word with one violent finger. “You be nice. You play this the way I say and you’ll be out in a month, with the managers throwing vaudeville contracts at you. Maybe I can even get you out on bail... ”
He turned abruptly and went to the door, turned the key. “Or” — he jerked his head towards the door, looked at the little watch on the inside of his wrist — “there’s a Frisco bus out Cahuenga in about six minutes. You can make it — and ruin your case.”
Outside, sultry thunder rumbled and rain whipped against the windows.
Kells slid a note off the sheaf in his breast pocket, went over and handed it to her. It was a thousand-dollar note.
She looked at it dully, slowly stood up. Then she stuffed the note into the pocket of her suit and went quickly to the chair where Kells had thrown her coat.
Kells said: “Give me the Bellmann stuff.”
Beery was staring open-mouthed at Kells. “—! Gerry, you can’t do this,” he said. “I told Tommy we had the girl... ”
“She escaped.”
Granquist put on her coat. She looked at Kells and her eyes were soft, wet. She went to him and took a heavy manila envelope out of her pocket, handed it to him. She stood a moment looking up at him and then she turned and went to the door. She put her hand on the knob and turned it, and then took her hand away from the knob and held it up to her face. She stood like that for a little while and then she said: “All right,” very low.
She said: “All right,” again, very low and distinctly, and turned from the door and went back to the big chair and sat down.
Kells said: “Okey, Shep.”
5
About ten minutes later Beery got up and let Captain Hayes of the Hollywood Division in. There were two plain-clothesmen and an assistant coroner following close behind him.
The assistant coroner examined Bellmann’s body and looked up in a little while and said: “Instantaneous — two wounds, probably .32 caliber — one touched the heart.” He stood up. “Dead about twenty minutes.”
Hayes picked up the gun from where Kells had replaced it under the table, examined it, wrapped it carefully.
Kells smiled at him. “Old school,” he said, “along with silencers and dictaphones. Nowadays they wear gloves.”
Hayes said: “What’s your name?”
Beery said: “Oh, I’m sorry — I thought you knew each other. This is Gerry Kells... Captain. Hayes.”
“What were you doing here?” Hayes was a heavily built man with bright brown eyes. He spoke very rapidly.
“Shep and I came up to call on my girl friend here—” Kells indicated Granquist, who was still sitting with her coat on, staring at them all in turn, expressionlessly. “We found it just the way you see it.”
Hayes glanced at Beery, who nodded. Hayes spoke to Granquist: “Is that right, Miss?”
She looked up at him blankly for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“That’ll be about all, I guess.” Hayes looked at Kells; “You still at the Lancaster?”
Kells nodded. “You can always reach me through Shep,” he said.
Hayes said: “Come on, Miss.”
Granquist got up and went into the dressing-room and packed a few things in a small traveling-bag.
One of the plain-clothesmen opened the door, let two ambulance men in. They put Bellmann’s body on a stretcher, carried it out.
Kells leaned against the door-frame of the dressing-room, watched Granquist. He said: “I’ll be down in the morning with an attorney. In the meantime, keep quiet.”
She nodded vaguely and closed the bag, came out of the dressing-room. She said: “Let’s go.”
The manager of the apartment-house was in the corridor with one of the Filipino bell-boys, a reporter from the Journal, and a guest.
The manager said: “I can’t understand it — no one heard the shots.”
Hayes said: “Uh huh.”
One of the plain-clothesmen looked superiorly at the manager. He said: “The thunder covered the shots.”
They all went down the corridor except Beery and Kells. Beery said: “So long,” to the captain.
The manager stayed behind a moment. He said: “I’ll close up Miss Granquist’s apartment.”
Kells said: “Never mind — I’ll bring the key down.”
The manager was doubtful.
Kells looked very stern. He whispered: “Special investigator.” He and Beery went back into the apartment.
Beery called his paper again with additional information: “... Captain Hayes made the arrest... And don’t forget — the Chronicle is always first with the latest... ” He hung up, lighted a new cigarette from the butt of another. “From now on,” he said, “I’m going to follow you around and phone in the story of my life, from day to day.”
Kells asked: “Are you giving it an extra?”
“Sure. It’s on the presses now — be on the streets in a little while.”
“That’s dandy.”
Kells went into the kitchen, switched on the light. He looked out the kitchen-window and then he went to a tall cupboard — the kind of cupboard where brooms are kept in a modern apartment — opened the door.
Fenner came out, blinking in the bright light. He said: “I would have had” — he swallowed — “would have had to come out in another minute. I nearly smothered.”
“That’s too bad.”
Beery stood in the doorway. He said: “For the love of the—!”
Fenner went into the living-room, sat down. He was breathing hard.
Kells strolled in behind him and sat down across the room, facing him.
Fenner took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his mouth and forehead. He said: “I followed her, as you suggested, and when she went in through the lobby, I came up to the side-stair intending to meet her up here.”