“Ollie,” Hawes said, “this is Mr. Roger Grimm, the man who had the fires.”
“How do you do?” Ollie said politely, and rose and took Grimm’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” Grimm said, and smiled weakly. The confidence was beginning to affect him, too. It was as palpable as an electric current racing around the room. If you touched either of these two cops, you could be electrocuted on the spot.
“And these gentlemen are Mr. Robinson Worthy and Mr. Oscar Hemmings, partners in a venture known as Diamondback Development. Mr. Worthy, Mr. Hemmings, Mr. Grimm,” Hawes said, and smiled pleasantly.
The men looked at each other. Since Worthy and Hemmings were partners of Chase, and since Grimm was also a partner of Chase, it seemed obvious to the cops that the three of them had at least heard of each other. But it now also seemed apparent that this was the first time any of them had met face to face. The confrontation seemed to unsettle Worthy and Hemmings even further. Grimm looked a trifle uncertain as he said, “Pleased to meet you.” Worthy and Hemmings nodded, and Grimm’s uncertainty turned to wariness.
“Well, what do you think?” Ollie said. “Shall we start without Steve?”
They had already decided that the arrival of Chase would be their surprise card, revealed at the last moment, when the stakes were high and the pot was closed. Carella had told them he would be back at 7:00 sharp. They had asked Grimm to be at the squadroom at 6:45 and it was now 6:50 and the game of poker was about to begin. The interrogation that followed was a peculiar one. Ollie and Hawes played the game as if they were holding a pat royal flush, even though they still needed an essential card — Chase. Worthy and Hemmings, frightened by the wild assurance with which the cops were betting and raising, assumed that their own hands were terrible, whereas in fact they weren’t too bad at all. Grimm, sitting with a pair of deuces, watched the proceedings like an out-of-town hick who had been sucked into the game without realizing the stakes were high and the company fast. It was all very peculiar.
“Okay, Mr. Worthy,” Ollie said, “you want to tell us why you spent time with Frank Reardon?”
“I don’t know anyone named Frank Reardon,” Worthy said.
This was good for the cops. He was starting with a bluff.
“That’s not true,” Hawes said. “You visited Frank Reardon several times in the company of Charlie Harrod.”
“Who says so?”
“We have positive identifications from a woman named Barbara Loomis, who’s the super’s wife in Reardon’s building.”
“Well,” Worthy said, and shrugged.
“Were you there to see him, or weren’t you?”
“Yes, I was there. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means you went to visit a person who was employed as a watchman in Mr. Grimm’s warehouse,” Hawes said. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Grimm?”
“That’s right,” Grimm said. He looked puzzled, as though trying to determine whether or not his deuces were worth betting.
“Well, Frank Reardon was a friend of mine,” Worthy said.
“Did you know he worked for Mr. Grimm?”
“No.”
“I thought he was a friend of yours,” Ollie said.
“Yes, but I didn’t know where he was employed.”
“Do you know what Frank Reardon did on August seventh?”
“No,” Worthy said. “What did he do?”
“Do you know what he did, Mr. Hemmings?”
Hemmings lighted a cigarette before answering. Then he blew out a stream of smoke and said, “I don’t know Frank Reardon, and I’m sure no one can testify that I ever visited him.”
“That’s right,” Ollie said. “You’re absolutely right. No one ever saw you there. All we know is that Harrod, and Mr. Worthy here, went to see Frank Reardon. But neither of you know what Reardon did on August seventh, is that correct?”
“That’s correct,” Worthy said.
Hemmings nodded and drew in on his cigarette again.
“On that day,” Hawes said, “Frank Reardon put an unspecified amount of chloral hydrate into a bottle of whiskey.”
“He was paid five thousand bucks to do that,” Ollie said. “He was paid on August second.”
“He was later shot to death with a Smith and Wesson 9-mm Automatic owned by Charlie Harrod,” Hawes said.
“Is that true?” Grimm asked, surprised.
“Yes, that’s true,” Hawes said.
“Then you know who killed Frank?”
“Yes, Mr. Grimm, we know who killed him.” Hawes did not bother to explain that they only knew whose gun had killed him. This was no time for playing according to Hoyle, not when so many chips were on the table.
“Then you must also know...”
“Patience, Mr. Grimm, patience,” Hawes said.
“But why was he killed?” Grimm persisted. His deuces were beginning to look good again. He was even contemplating raising the pot a trifle.
“Because he knew exactly how your night watchmen were put out of action,” Hawes said.
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Worthy?” Ollie said.
Worthy did not answer. He had decided to stand pat with an eight-high diamond flush.
“Mr. Hemmings is beginning to feel neglected,” Hawes said.
“We’re coming to you, Mr. Hemmings,” Ollie said. “And your whorehouses. And your high-priced little bimbo, Rosalie Waggener. And her trip to Germany.”
“What trip to Germany?” Hemmings said, calling and raising. He had a full house, aces up, and he was betting the cops did not hold the case ace that would complete their royal flush.
“Oh, didn’t you know about that?” Ollie said. “Gee, didn’t she tell you about that? About her trip to Bremerhaven? About taking five hundred thousand dollars to Bremerhaven?”
Worthy and Hemmings had looked at their cards the moment Ollie had mentioned Bremerhaven, and immediately began studying the huge pile of chips, when they heard about the five hundred thousand dollars delivered there. Roger Grimm, on the other hand, had begun to go pale the moment he heard Rosalie Waggener’s name. He now looked positively ill. He was a man suddenly realizing that a pair of deuces wasn’t worth a rat’s ass in this kind of poker game. Hemmings was the first to regain his cool. His full house might still be good; recklessly, he raised again.
“Rosalie’s never been to Germany in her life,” Hemmings said.
“She went to Germany on July twenty-fifth,” Hawes said. “We’ve seen her passport, and she’s already told us where she went.”
“To where, did you say?”
“To Bremerhaven.”
“Why would Rosalie have gone to Bremerhaven?” Hemmings asked, raising again.
“To deliver that five hundred thousand to a man named Erhard Bachmann,” Hawes said.
“Know him, Mr. Grimm?” Ollie asked.
“Yes, I... yes. He’s my packer. He packs my... my wooden things.”
“How about you, Mr. Hemmings? Know anybody named Erhard Bachmann?”
“No,” Hemmings said.
“Mr. Worthy?”
“No.”
“Only one here who knows Bachmann seems to be you, Mr. Grimm. Do you also know Rosalie Waggener?”
“No,” Grimm said.
Ollie glanced at the clock. It was three minutes to 7:00.
“Why do you suppose she gave five hundred thousand to your packer?”