"Yes, I've grasped that," said Mendoza in a bored tone. "So you went out after the service to ask him how come."
"Now I'll tell you," said Kingman, "I may be a fool this way and that way, Lieutenant, but I was not fool enough to think that Trask would walk oif with a month's receipts like that if he intended to carry on in the current situation. The moment I made that discovery, I knew he was clearing out for some reason. And I was thankful-I tell you!-and if it had been merely the twenty-three hundred, I'd have said good riddance, cheap at the price."
"Which was what I said, dear, though I did follow the thought in your mind. He really had no scruples at all."
"But, well, just put yourself in my position, if you can, Lieutenant. Knowing Trask, I thought it very likely indeed that he would not be satisfied with that amount, but would attempt to withdraw more from the bank on Monday morning-before I had discovered what he'd already done, you see. I don't know why he should have stolen that cash on Friday when-if he did intend to withdraw more-he couldn't very well have planned his-his flight until Monday. When I came to reason it out, it occurred to me that possibly someone was in a position to blackmail him, and he had to have that cash on Friday. That he meant to abandon his-ah-racket here, in the face of that blackmail, and stole the cash to satisfy his enemy over the weekend, trusting to luck that I shouldn't discover it-and then on the Monday meant to take what he could from the bank, you see. However, there it was, and the reason I was anxious to contact him was to inform him in no uncertain terms that I knew of the theft, and would take steps immediately to warn the bank not to allow him to make any withdrawals. That I didn't want-well, naturally not-but it wasn't only the money-I couldn't very well prosecute him for it, could I? Everything coming out in the open then. I tried at once to telephone him, but got no answer-of course it was early. I tried again after the service, with the same result. “ So-"
"So you drove out. Very well. And when you got there, you found him packing-"
"It was quite mysterious," said the woman plaintively, "and I hated it-I felt there was something queer about it then. There was no one there at all, Lieutenant. I do hope," her voice quivered a little, "you will believe the truth, I do see as Martin says it's only our word. But it is the truth. The front door to his apartment was unlocked, after we'd knocked and knocked Martin tried it and the door opened. We knew he was there because there was a light-not in the living room, but the bedroom-you could see it from that silly little front porch. So we went in, and no one was there at all. Yes, you're quite right, he had been packing-there were two suitcases all packed and locked, and another on the bed half full of things-and things standing on the bureau, all i untidy, he'd never have left it like that; he was almost too finicky for a man, you know. And the light on. The kitchen light too. We couldn't see that until we'd gone in, of course. And no one there."
"That's gospel truth, gentlemen," said Kingman earnestly. "I can't lie to you that I'm a religious man, but I swear by-by everything that's dear to me, that's the gospel truth."
Mendoza had been leaning back in a bored way, smoking, impassive; Boyce sitting stolid and foursquare, just waiting; Hackett listening and looking intently. Their noncornmittal silence worried Kingman, who had grown progressively more ruddy and earnest. Now suddenly Mendoza sat up and fixed him with a frowning stare.
"The kitchen light was on?" he said. "Was that trap open?"
"God, no," said Kingman with a shudder. "And if I didn't have the cold grues about that, when I read in the paper how he'd been-disposed of! It occurred to me then that, my God, whoever it was might have-must have-been down there with him-when we walked in."
Now he lost all of his ruddiness, and mopped his bald head. "He-they-whoever it was, would have had warning-we knocked and waited, you know. If-if there was a way to close that trap from below… well, you take me. Must have been down there in the dark-with him-waiting for us to leave. God. No, of course we didn't dream, at the time… There were all his things, you could see he was getting ready to clear out, and-I don't know-it looked queer, but as if he might have just run out to get something, you know-some errand. I-"
"Did you go into the kitchen?… Where was the table?"
"I remember that, dear. It was an impossible kitchen-but of course a man wouldn't care-far too small, and there was only one little place for a table, at the very end-but it wasn't there. It was pushed right up against the stove, a very awkward position."
"Did you see a trowel?" asked Mendoza softly. Hackett turned and looked at him. Nothing about the trowel had been released to the press. They both stared at him. "A trowel?" said Kingman; and then he lost what remained of his color. "Oh, my God, is that what he was-what they used-? No-no, I don't remember anything like that. We-well, you know, we didn't know quite what to do. It looked as if he'd be back any minute, and we waited around a little." He mopped his brow. "You have so much imagination, Martin-not that I wasn't a little upset about it too, when we knew. But it's all over now, dear, we must simply try to tell them how it was-the facts."
"How long did you wait?"
"Oh, it was quite some time before we decided that he wasn't-and of course then we did think it even odder, that he should just walk out like that-and then we thought of looking to see whether his car was there. And it was. In the carport. And there was another one too, that is I don't know if it had anything to do with all this, but you see, I opened the back door and looked out-I don't know why, it was the silly sort of thing you do when you're looking for someone. And there was a car there. There's quite a wide alley behind that building, you know, and an empty lot behind that-and this car was just standing in the alley. There wasn't anyone in it, its lights weren't on or anything. I thought at the time it might be someone visiting the next apartment, maybe there hadn't been parking space in front when- Well, and then Martin said-"
"Now I'll tell you," said Kingman, "I didn't especially want to see him. I was thankful he was clearing out, I simply wanted to make it clear to him that it was-um-quits between us. And I'll be honest and say too that it seemed a good opportunity to have a look around for that photostat-not that that would exactly take away his hold, because I daresay he could have replaced it, and of course the mere information-that is, anyone could have checked up, once they knew where to check, so to speak. Nevertheless, we should feel much safer-you get me… I hadn't tried to do anything in that line, no sir, not up to then. I won't say I hadn't thought about it, but it didn't seem that it'd be much use-for all I knew he had a safety deposit box or something-"
"So he did," said Mendoza. "In a manner of speaking. I know where it was-"
"So do I, now," said Kingman unexpectedly. "I make no apology for saying that we had a look round. And we didn't have to look far. It was right there on the bed. I expect you found it with his things, later on. One of those quilted plastic laundry bags-green-and he'd just emptied it out on the bed, it looked like, to get at what was in the bottom. I don't want to-ah-sound as if I'm trying to do your job for you, Lieutenant, but it occurs to me that perhaps when you first saw the place, things weren't just the way they were then, and it may be you'll be interested. First of all, there was a big brown manila envelope lying there with that photostat in it-the newspaper report about us, you know-and of course I took that. But I think there'd been something else in that bag-I took it that's where the envelope had been, you see, there it was among all his dirty clothes, as if he'd just dumped out everything-because there was another manila envelope, empty, and he-or someone-had burned something in a big glass ashtray on the bureau. Something fairly bulky, like-well, maybe another photostat. There was quite a little pile of ashes."