“Yeah, all right. But there’s a big difference between cuffing somebody around and shooting him.”
“What about the gun? You’d never seen it before?”
“No. The cops think I stole it from Cybil, but that’s crazy too. I never knew she had a gun. Why would she pack one around with her?”
“She claims she brought it with her for demonstration purposes on her private eye panel. But she might have had another reason.”
“What reason?”
“I thought maybe you could tell me that.”
He wagged his head.
“Did you talk to her Friday night? Have an argument with her?”
“No. What kind of argument would I have with her?”
“The kind where you lose your head, maybe, and swat her one.”
“Are you nuts? I’d never lay a hand on Cybil.”
“Somebody did Friday night. She’s got a bruise on her cheek to prove it.”
“Colodny,” Dancer said.
“Why Colodny?”
“He was the kind to hit women. He did it once, with this love-pulp writer he was bedding back in the forties, right in front of everybody at a Pulpeteers’ meeting. Just because she was kidding around. Ivan Wade took a poke at him for it. Ivan’s a bastard but he respects women.”
“But why would Colodny have hit Cybil?”
“Maybe she said something to him and he didn’t like it. He screwed her out of money, too, just like he did the rest of us.”
“I know all about that. But it’s not enough; there has to be a specific motive for his murder. Did Cybil or any of the others have one that you know about?”
“No.”
“Something from back in the forties, maybe?”
“How would I know what went on between Colodny and anybody else, back then or since? I hadn’t seen him in thirty years, for Christ’s sake. Or any of the others in almost that long.”
His voice had risen until it was a scratchy whine. The guard, standing against the wall behind Dancer, frowned over at us. I said, “Take it easy, Russ. I’m listening to you and I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I’m on your side.”
He ran his tongue over lips that looked blistered. The fear in him settled below the surface again, but it was plain that he was having to struggle to maintain his control. The hangover was not helping matters; his hands kept plucking at each other, and you could almost see his nerves jangling.
I said, “Do the others have alibis for the time of the shooting?”
He nodded jerkily. “The cops say so.”
“Unshakeable alibis?”
“They didn’t tell me that. They can’t be, can they?”
“Let’s hope not. Suppose we go over again what happened yesterday. Can you remember it any better today?”
“Part of it, yeah. I’ve been over it a dozen times in my head.”
“All right. You were out drinking Bloody Marys with one of the convention people-”
“Benny. His name was Benny something.”
“Benny, right. What time did you get back?”
“I’m not sure. Around eleven, I think.”
“Then what?”
“We split up and I went upstairs to my room.”
“Did you talk to anybody on the way?”
“No. I think I stopped to bang on Ozzie Meeker’s door, see if he wanted to buy me a drink. But he wasn’t in.”
“Did you lock your door after you went inside?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Can you remember if the room was empty?”
“It must have been. Why? You think somebody could’ve been hiding in there when I came in?”
“It’s possible. But if there was anybody there or anything out of the ordinary, you were too drunk to notice.”
“Yeah. Too frigging drunk to notice.”
“After you came in, did you go straight into the bedroom?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Or maybe you sat down to have a drink first.”
“Uh-uh. No.”
“Why are you so sure?”
“Because I didn’t have any booze in the room.”
I frowned at him through the mesh. “What about the bottle that was on the couch? You remember that, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said, and frowned back at me. “A quart of rye.”
“How did it get there if it wasn’t yours?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re sure you didn’t carry it up with you?”
“Pretty sure. I don’t drink rye; it’s an Eastern hooch.”
“Who does drink it among the Pulpeteers?”
His mouth pulled down at the corners. “The only one I know of was Colodny. That’s all he drank in the old days.”
“Well, he could have brought the bottle in with him. But why? Why come to your room in the first place? And how did he get in, if you didn’t let him in?”
“I didn’t. Maybe he got a key somewhere.”
“Maybe. But that still doesn’t explain why he was there.”
Dancer shook his head: a study in raw misery.
“Did you see Colodny yesterday morning, before you went out drinking with Benny?”
“No.”
“Was he around when you got back to the hotel?”
“No.”
“Then the last time you saw him was when?”
“At the party on Friday night.”
“Did you say anything to him there?”
He pressed his knuckles across the bridge of his nose, trying to remember. “I was a couple of sheets to the wind then, too; a deal my agent had been trying to put together fell through. And I was still pissed about that note he’d slipped me. I think I said something to him about watching his step or I’d fix his wagon …“He broke off as he realized the significance of that. Then he said, “Ah, Christ,” and pawed his mouth out of shape.
“Lots of people overhead this, I suppose?”
“Enough. Bohannon and Ramsey and Ozzie Meeker were all there. One of them probably told the cops about it. But I didn’t mean it like it sounds. I wasn’t threatening his life.”
I said, “What did Colodny say in response?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just walked away.”
“Did you have any other contact with him that night?”
“No. He didn’t stay long at the party.”
“Let’s get back to yesterday. You said the gunshot woke you up.”
“Yeah. It was loud as hell.”
“Did you know what it was right away?”
“No. I was still drunk.”
“But you got up right away.”
“A few seconds, maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Some noises, I think.”
“Before you got into the other room.”
“Yeah.”
“What sort of noises?”
“Just noises. A cry or yell or something, then some other sounds. None of it is clear in my head.”
“Okay, you went into the other room after a few seconds. What did you see?”
“Colodny lying there dead.”
“Anything else? Movement, anything out of place?”
“No.”
“What did you do then?”
“I guess I picked up the gun. Stupid goddamn thing to do but I did it. Then you started beating on the door and came inside. That’s all.”
“I hope so, Russ,” I said. “I hope you’ve told me everything and all of it is the truth. If I find out different, it’s quits.”
He brightened a little. “You’ll help me? You’ll find out what really happened?”
“I’ll do what I can, as long as the police have no objections. But don’t expect miracles. I’m not all that good.”
“Sure you are. I saw the way you handled things in Cypress Bay; I read about those other cases of yours in the papers. If anybody can get me out of here it’s you.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said again. “No promises.”
“I don’t have any money,” he said, “you know that. But you clear me of this, I’ll find a way to pay you. I mean that-I will.”
“That’s something we can talk about later.” I got up on my feet. “I’ll let Pitchfield know I’m working for you so he won’t keep after you to enter a guilty plea.”
I left him there like a supplicant behind the wire mesh and took the elevator down to General Works. One of the homicide inspectors on duty was Klein; I asked him if Eberhardt had come in today, and he told me yes and that he was in his office. “But he’s in a foul mood,” Klein said. “He’s liable to bite your ass if you go in there.”