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—”
Fenner went past Beery 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 the side stair intending to meet her up here.”
Kells smiled gently, nodded.
“I didn’t want to be seen following her through the lobby, you know.”
“No.”
Beery was still standing in the kitchen doorway, staring bewilderedly at Fenner.
“I knocked but she hadn’t come up yet,” Fenner went on, “so I opened the door — it was unlocked — and came in.”
Kells said: “The door was unlocked?”
Fenner nodded. “In a few minutes I heard her coming up the hall and she was talking to a man. I went into the kitchen, of course, and she and Bellmann came in. They were arguing about something. Bellmann went into the bathroom I think, and then I heard the two shots during one of the peals of thunder. I didn’t know what to do — and then when I was about to come out and see what had happened, you knocked at the door.”
Fenner paused, took a long breath. “I didn’t know it was you, of course, so I hid in the cupboard.”
Kells said: “Oh.”
“I thought it would be better if I didn’t get mixed up in a thing of this kind, in any way.”
Kells said, “Oh,” again. Then he looked up at Beery, said: “Sit down, Shep — I want to tell you a story.”
Beery sat down near the door.
Kells stretched one long leg over the arm of his chair, made himself comfortable. “This afternoon I told Mister Fenner” — he inclined his head toward Fenner in one slow emphatic movement — “that I knew a gal who had some very hot political info that she wanted to sell.”
Beery nodded almost imperceptibly.
“He was interested and asked me to send her to his hotel tonight. I had a talk with her, and the stuff sounded so good that I got interested too — took her to Fenner’s myself.”
Fenner was extremely uncomfortable. He looked at Kells and dabbed at his forehead; his lips were bent into a faint forced smile.
“We offered the information — information of great political value — to Mister Fenner at a very fair price,” Kells went on. “He agreed to it and called the manager of his hotel and asked him to bring up an envelope containing a large amount in cash.”
Kells turned his eyes slowly from Beery to Fenner. “When the manager came in a couple of benders came in with him. They’d been waiting in the next apartment, listening across the airshaft to find out what they had to heist — it was supposed to look like Rose’s stick-up — or Bellmann’s...”
Fenner stood up.
Kells said: “But it was Mister Fenner’s. Mister Fenner wanted to eat his cake and have crumbs in his bed, too.”
Fenner took two steps forward. His eyes were flashing. He said: “That’s a lie, sir — a tissue of falsehood!”
Kells spoke very softly, enunciating each word carefully, distinctly: “Sit down, you dirty son of a bitch.”
Fenner straightened, glared at Kells. He half turned toward the door.
Kells got up and took three slow steps, then two swiftly, crashed his fist into Fenner’s face. There was a sickening crackly noise and Fenner fell down very hard.
Kells jerked him up and pushed him back into the chair. Kells’ face was worried, solicitous. He said very slow — almost whispered: “Sit still.”
Then he went back to his chair and sat down, went on: “One of the boys sapped the manager. They fanned me and made a pass for Granquist’s handbag. She tossed it out the window, smacked one of them and the other one went after the bag. Granquist faked going after the bag too and I sent Fenner after her, figuring that the stuff wasn’t in the bag and that she’d come back here and that the three of us would get together here for another little talk.”.
Fenner was pressing himself back into the corner of the chair. He was holding his hands to his bloody face and moaning a little.
“When I sent Fenner after Granquist,” Kells went on, “I gave him a gun — one of the boy’s. He was so excited about getting to the bag, or keeping G in sight that he forgot to frisk the manager for his big dough...”
Kells took the yellow envelope out of his pocket. “So I got it.” He leaned forward, pressed the edges of the envelope and a little packet of cigar coupons fell out on the floor.
“Almost enough to get a package of razor blades.”
Beery grinned.
Kells said: “Granquist headed over here, so Fenner knew that the bag had been a stall, followed her. When she came in past the office he ducked up the side way and, figuring that she had come right up, knocked at her door.”
Beery said: “How did he know which apartment was hers?”
“He had us tailed from my hotel early this evening. His man got her number from the mail-boxes in the lobby, gave it to him before we got to his place tonight.”
Beery nodded.
Kells said: “Am I boring you?”
“Yes. Bore me some more.”
“Bellmann had come up here after some things he wanted — some very personal things that he couldn’t trust anyone else to get. He probably paid his way into the apartment — I’ll have to check up on that — and didn’t find what he was looking for, and when Fenner knocked he thought it was either Granquist, who he wanted to talk to anyway, or whoever let him in.”
Kells took a deep breath. “He opened the door, and...” Kells paused, got up and went to Fenner, looked down at the little twisted man and smiled. “Mister Fenner knows a good thing when he sees it — he jockeyed Bellmann into a good spot and shot him through the heart.” Fenner mumbled something through his hands. “He waited for a nice roll of off-stage thunder and murdered him.”
Beery said: “That’s certainly swell. And I haven’t got any more job than a rabbit.” He stood up, stared disconsolately at Kells. “My God! Bellmann killed by the boss of the opposition — the most perfect political break that could happen, for my paper — and I turn in an innocent girl, swing it exactly the other way politically. My God!”
Beery sat down and reached for the telephone. Kells said: “Wait a minute.”
Beery held up his right hand, the forefinger pointed, brought it down emphatically towards Kells. “Nuts!”
Kells said: “Wait a minute, Shep.” His voice was very gentle. His mouth was curved in a smile and his eyes were very hot and intent. Beery sat still.
Fenner got up. Holding a darkening handkerchief to his face, tottered toward the door.
Kells went past him to the door, locked it. He said: “Both you bastards pipe down and sit still till I finish.” He shoved Fenner back into the chair. “As I was about to say: you were a little late, you heard Granquist outside the door, wiped off the rod — if you didn’t, I did — put in under the table and ducked into the cupboard.”
Beery said slowly: “What do you mean: you wiped it off?”
Kells didn’t answer. He squatted in front of Fenner, said: “Listen, you — what do you think I put on that act for — ribbed Granquist into taking the fall? Because she can beat it.” His elbows were on his knees. He pointed his finger forcibly at Fenner, sighted across it. “You couldn’t. You couldn’t get to first base...”