When I rang his bell he asked a dozen times who I was, and when he finally let me in, Shep damn near hugged me. Taking off my coat, I asked, “Any more phone calls?”
“I have the receiver off, like you told me. Bucky, you don't know how much I appreciate this.”
“I warned you what would happen.”
“You did. Don't worry; tomorrow I'll deny everything at the top of my lungs.”
I nodded. “Best you don't say anything about tonight—the calls. Then the police might not drop it. You tell them you're a crime bug, that you were drunk or something. Make sure it sounds good and make certain the police give it to the papers.”
“Yes, yes.”
I took out my gun, and Shep's eyes became saucers behind his glasses. I told him, “Now go to sleep and forget it. I'll stretch out on the couch.”
“Bucky, I'll buy you a case of rye for this.”
“Forget it. You did me a favor, Shep. I'm paying you back.” There was a kind of moan. I turned to see the frightened eyes of a nice-looking babe watching us from the darkness of the bedroom. She was a runt, too. I said loudly, “Go to sleep, Shep. Don't turn on the lights, and stay away from the windows, just in case.”
The moan was louder. “Tell your wife not to worry. You'll scare your kid awake.”
I put the receiver back in its cradle, was able to get a few hours shut-eye. I awoke to see a little girl in a red bathrobe staring at me with a solemn face. I sat up and winked at the kid; she giggled. Shep's wife came out of the kitchenette to get the girl. The wife looked like a kid herself, except for the dark circles under her eyes. As she took the girl to the bathroom, the wife whispered, “Thank you, very much, Mr. Penn.”
“It's okay. It will be over soon.”
We all took turns going to the John. I phoned Elma, and it took a lot of rings to get her up. I told her where I was.
There was a mild argument during breakfast as Shep explained to his wife that he was going to tell the Commissioner he'd been drunk when he called. The wife wasn't thinking of the reward any longer, but the fact Shep would look foolish.
I said, “So what if he looks like a jerk? It will be forgotten by tomorrow. Those calls last night might be the work of a crank, but we can't be sure. Better to be a fool for a day than a nervous wreck the rest of your lives. Or dead.”
“Daddy, what does 'dead' mean?” the little girl asked.
After they got a morning cartoon show on TV for the kid, Shep told his wife about Arnold Schuster and she was sold. We left the house a few minutes before nine, and if he still had any doubts, his busted windshield was the final convincer. He almost fainted as he whispered, “A—a bullet hole!”
I went through the routine of examining the cracked glass. “Maybe. Might be a pebble from the wheel of a passing car.”
“No, no, it's a bullet hole!”
“Could be. But a slug would have gone through the windshield.” I bent down and ran my fingers through the snow and dirt on the ground, examined the road. Finally I said,” I don't see a slug. Let's get going. My wife is waiting for me.”
“Drive downtown with me, Bucky.”
“Well, I have to take my car back. Tell you what: I'll follow you. And stop shaking or you'll drive your car off the road.
I followed him down to police headquarters, then returned my car. I ate a big breakfast and took a cab to the house. Elma was sleeping. I read the morning papers, turned on TV and watched a couple of morning shows. At about eleven Elma got up and drank three cups of coffee. She wanted to know why I'd been at Shep's house.
“Some nut threatened him. It's okay now.”
I listened to the noon news roundup. Nothing. But at one a newscaster said, “Dr. Sheppard Harris, the optometrist who yesterday claimed he had tipped off the police about Batty Johnson, this morning admitted it was all a hoax. He claimed he had been reading a wanted circular about Johnson while under the influence of a pill he was taking for a cold, and later, without realizing what he was doing, phoned the police....”
I turned off the set, started to undress. Elma said, “Keep it on. There's a story I follow every day.”
I took out ten bucks. “Honey, I want to sleep. Why don't you go out and buy yourself something, or take in a movie?”
Snatching the bill, she asked, “Where did you get the money?”
“Oh, stop it. Shep slipped it to me for guarding him.”
I fell into bed, and my boxer's arms said I'd only been sleeping fifty minutes when the doorbell rang. It kept ringing. I went to the door, in my shorts, ready to bawl Elma out for coming back so soon, forgetting her key. I opened the door to see Detective Alexander grinning at me again. He came in, and when I asked for his coat, he said, “I'll only be a minute.” He ran his eyes over my body. “You pack good muscle.”
“You got me out of the sack.”
“Of course. I hear you were up all night.”
I came awake fast. I didn't like the sarcastic grin on his thin face.
Alexander sat on the couch, pushed his hat back on his brushed gray hair. “You were right, Penn. Your buddy Harris turned out to be a real crank, as you said.”
“Yeah?”
“He was hysterical this morning. Said something about threatening phone calls last night. Too bad his name leaked out to the press. They tell me it was on the radio news last night.”
“So Shep told me,” I said. Dopey Shep, telling them about the calls. But I was still way out in the clear—although Alexander's mocking eyes didn't say that. “In fact, he dragged me out in the middle of the night, insisted I come up and protect him. Hard to say if there were any calls or it was all his imagination. No one phoned while I was there.”
“Of course.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked, knowing my voice was too loud.
“Nothing. Of course it was odd, the calls coming so soon after he was mentioned in a newscast.”
“If there actually were threatening calls, what's so odd about it? You expect a nut, or one of Johnson's pals, to wait?”
“I don't expect anything.”
“Shep say anything else? Any new calls?”
“Nope. He was upset about his windshield, thought it was a shot.”
“I told him it might be a flying stone.”
Alexander nodded, his eyes watching me like he was seeing a funny show. “The lab said it was a stone.”
I waited a second, got a cigarette from a pack on the TV. Alexander didn't say a word. I lit the butt and the silence made my nerves jump. “Stop stalling. What's on the Commissioner's mind?”
“I don't know. I guess he thinks you're a big hero. This isn't an official call, Bucklin. Where did you get a name like that?”