Harrigan was staring at me. “Don’t feel very talkative huh? All right. I’ll do the talking. First, about that time gag of yours the night Lesser got killed. You said you were in your room at eight-thirty. Your little blonde friend who was killed tonight said the same thing. That’s right, isn’t it.”
“You’re doing the talking,” I said.
“Sure I am. We checked with the telephone operator at your hotel about that. She remembered the call. You asked her what time a play at the Selwyn started. You asked her to find out and call you back. She did and she said eight-thirty. That’s what your girl friend heard. Actually the operator called you back after nine o’clock. Where were you at eight-thirty, Johnny?”
I just looked at him. There wasn’t anything to say. I didn’t know how much he had. I didn’t know where Alice was. They might be questioning her right now, trying to break her down the same way. All I could do was keep my mouth shut tight.
“I’ll tell you where you were,” Harrigan said. “You were in her apartment at eight-thirty. You shot Lesser at eight-thirty, Johnny, and we know you did.”
The tightness inside me was getting worse. He had me on a bad spot, but I knew enough to keep quiet. Guys hang themselves by talking. The cops catch them in a few lies, and they start talking, trying to cover up, and they tell more lies and pretty soon they’re in so deep that the cops just sit back and listen to the guy spill his guts.
Harrigan said, “Nothing to say to that, Johnny?”
“I’ll talk to a lawyer.”
“No lawyer in the world will help you now,” he said. He lit a cigarette. “But here’s another thing you can tell your lawyer. You claimed you talked to Lesser Friday afternoon and that he told you he was going up to her apartment Sunday night. We’ve got your statement on that with three witnesses. That’s where you made an accidental little slip, Johnny. You see, we checked and we found out that Lesser wasn’t in town Friday. He went out to Gary on a business trip.”
“It could have been Thursday,” I said.
“Maybe you just lied. You didn’t talk to Lesser at all,” he said.
“I could have been mistaken about the day,” I said.
“Sure you could. But you weren’t. Here’s what happened and when I get through you can tell me if it looks like a mistake. You were living with Frank Olsen’s wife. When he came back from the army you decided to get rid of him. You were either too smart or too gutless to do the job yourself, so you fixed it so he’d put himself out of the way. You steamed him up about his wife’s unfaithfulness, and then you arranged to have Lesser go up to her apartment Sunday night. When you got that set you told him about it, knowing that he’d go crazy and run back there and blow hell out of Lesser. That’s the way you figured it. That would take care of everything. He’d get sent up on a murder rap and you’d have his wife. But it didn’t work. He walked in, slugged Lesser and his wife and then walked out. You were watching from across the street. When you saw him come up you went up to see what happened. That’s when you got the bright idea of shooting Lesser yourself, knowing Frank Olsen would get the blame. And that’s what you did. You shot Lesser with Olsen’s souvenir gun and then got back to your hotel room and fixed an alibi for eight-thirty.” He leaned forward and said, “Got anything to say now?”
He had it all. He hadn’t missed a thing. He had me cold — if he had any proof. But it might be just a smart guess. The thing a cop needs before he goes to court on a murder case is a witness. And that was one thing he didn’t have. All the guess work in the world is no good unless there is proof to back it up, and a witness to put the finger on you.
“Ready to talk?” Harrigan said.
“Go to hell. You haven’t got anything but a fairy story. It’s clever, but take the damn thing into any court and a lawyer will tear you apart.”
“We got more,” he said.
“Fine,” I said. “So I’m a murderer because I made a mistake about what day I had lunch with some guy. And because some goddamn dumb telephone operator tells you a wild story about how I fixed up an alibi on the time. Is that your idea of proof?”
“You were living with Alice Olsen, weren’t you?”
“That’s wonderful. So I was living with some guy’s wife. Does that mean I shot a guy and pinned it on her husband?”
“It’s happened before,” he said. He was grinning.
I didn’t like that grin. He acted as though he was letting me talk for laughs.
“Well,” I said. “What’s the deal? Book me and lead me to a telephone, or let me get the hell out of here.”
“We’re going to book you, Johnny.”
“On what charge?”
“Murder.”
He said it so quietly that I knew he had a case. There was something he wasn’t telling me, and that wound me up so tight inside that I knew I was at the breaking point. I tried to light a cigarette, but my hands were trembling so badly that I burned my fingers. I gave it up and tossed the cigarette on the floor.
“Where’s your proof?” I said.
“You’ll get your proof. You’re going to get it right between the eyes. You’re going to fall apart and I’m going to enjoy watching the pieces hit the floor.”
He nodded to the copper sitting in the chair by the wall. The copper stood up and went out the door. Harrigan and Morowitz got to their feet.
I felt then like I was starting to come apart inside. Harrigan and Morowitz were watching the door and I watched it, too, waiting for what was going to happen.
The room was quiet and the only sound I could hear was the heavy pounding of my heart.
The door opened and the copper came back into the room. He was so big that I didn’t see her right away. When he stepped aside she was standing there, looking cool and hard, and when I saw her the tightness inside me seemed to break and everything in me just melted.
She looked straight at Harrigan. My mind was saying her name over and over but my lips were stiff and hard.
Harrigan said, “Mrs. Olsen, for the benefit of Johnny Ford, we want you to repeat what you told us earlier this morning. I think it will convince him we’ve got a case.”
“All right,” she said.
I never saw her look better. She had on a tailored white suit and her hair and make-up were done perfectly. There were blue shadows under her eyes but they made her skin look softer and whiter. Her hair was shining blackly, and her eyes were shining, too, and the cold, wild streak in her was so close to the surface that it made her look like a different woman.
She said, in a low, even voice; “My husband came home the night Lesser was in my apartment. He hit Lesser several times and than he slapped me hard enough to knock me unconscious. When I came to, Johnny Ford was in the room. I saw him go into the bedroom, and when he came out he had my husband’s gun in his hand. He shot Lesser, then left the apartment by the back door. Is that all you want?”
“That’s all I want,” Harrigan said.
“May I go now?”
“Of course.”
She hadn’t looked at me once. She told the story without a change in her voice and she kept her eyes on Harrigan.
When he said she could go, she smiled at him, and then she turned and went through the door. Harrigan closed it after her and came over and sat down behind the desk.
“Let’s have it all,” he said.
I heard the words but they were just noises. They didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything. She had turned me in to save her hide. The girl I’d killed for, stole for, wrecked everything for, had stood there, without a change of expression, and told a lie that would send me straight to the chair.
“You’ll get it all,” I said.