"Then let them turn up these people if they exist. Why should I confess to make things easier for them?"
"Because you'd be making things easier for yourself, Claude.So much easier."
"That doesn't make sense."
"If the police dig, they'll get everything, Claude. They'll find out why you were seeing Portia Carr.
Right now nobody knows. Hardesty doesn't know, I don't know, no one does. But if they dig, they'll find out. And there will be insinuations in the newspapers, and people will suspect things, perhaps they'll suspect worse than the truth- "
"Stop it."
"Everyone will know about it, Claude." I inclined my head toward the closed door. "Everyone," I said.
"Damn you."
"You could spare her that knowledge, Claude. Of course a confession might also get you a lighter sentence. It theoretically can't happen in Murder One, but you know how the game is played. It certainly wouldn't hurt your chances. But I think that's a secondary consideration as far as you're concerned, Claude. Isn't it? I think you'd like to save yourself some scandal. Am I right?"
He opened his mouth but closed it without speaking.
"You could keep your motive a secret, Claude. You could invent something. Or just refuse to explain.
No one would pressure you, not if you'd already confessed to homicide. People close to you would know you had committed murder, but they wouldn't have to know other things about your life."
He lifted his cup of chocolate to his lips. He sipped it, returned it to its saucer.
"Claude- "
"Just let me think for a moment, will you?"
"All right."
I don't know how long we remained like that, me standing, him seated before the silent television set.
Say five minutes. Then he sighed, scuffed off his slippers, reached to put on a pair of shoes. He tied them and got to his feet. I walked to the door and opened it and stood aside so he could precede me through it into the living room.
He said, "Mother, I'll be going out for a little while. Mr. Scudder needs my help. Something important has come up."
"Oh, but your dinner, Claude.It's almost ready. Perhaps your friend would care to join us?"
I said, "I'm afraid not, Mrs.Lorbeer ."
"There's just no time, Mother," Claude agreed. "I'll have to have dinner out."
"Well, if it can't be helped."
He squared his shoulders, went to the front closet for a coat. "Now wear your heavy overcoat," she told him. "It's turned quite cold outside.
It is cold out, isn't it, Mr. Scudder?"
"Yes," I said. "It's very cold out."
Chapter 16
My second trip to the Tombs was very different from my first. It was about the same hour of the day, around eleven in the morning, but this time I'd had a good, full night's sleep and very little to drink the night before. I'd seen him in a cell the first time. Now I was meeting him and his lawyer at the front desk. He had left all that tension and depression in his cell and he looked like the conquering hero.
He and Seldon Wolk were already on hand when I walked in.
Broadfield's face lit up at the sight of me.
"There's my man," he called out. "Matt, baby, you're the greatest.Absolutely the greatest. If I did one intelligent thing in my life, it was getting hooked up with you." And he was pumping my hand and beaming down at me. "Didn't I tell you I was getting out of this toilet?
And didn't you turn out to be the guy to spring me?" He inclined his head conspiratorially, lowered his voice to a near-whisper. "And I'm a guy knows how to say thank you so you know I mean it. You got a bonus coming, buddy."
"You paid me enough."
"The hell I did. What's a man's life worth?"
I had asked myself the same question often enough, but not in quite the same way. I said, "I made something like five hundred dollars a day. That'll do me,Broadfield ."
"Jerry."
"Sure."
"And I say you got a bonus coming. You met my lawyer?
SeldonWolk ?"
"We've spoken," I said.Wolk and I shook hands and made polite sounds at each other.
"Well, it's about that time,"Broadfield said. "I guess any reporters who're gonna show up are already waiting out there, don't you think? If any of 'em miss out, it'll teach 'emto be on time next shot. Is Diana out there with the car?"
"She's waiting where you wanted her to wait," the lawyer told him.
"Perfect. You met my wife, didn't you, Matt? Of course you did, I gave you that note to take out there.
What we gotta do, you get a woman, and the four of us'll have dinner one of these nights. We ought to get to know each other better, all of us."
"We'll have to do that," I agreed.
"Well," he said. He tore open a manila envelope and shook out its contents on the top of the desk. He put his wallet into his pocket, slipped his watch onto his wrist, scooped up and pocketed a handful of coins.
Then he put his tie around his neck and under his shirt collar and made an elaborate performance of tying it. "Did I tell you, Matt? Thought I might have to tie it twice. But I think the knot looks just about right, don't you?"
"It looks fine."
He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I think it looks pretty good, all right.
I'll tell you something. Matt, I feel good. How do I look, Seldon ?"
"You look fine."
"I feel like a million dollars," he said.
HE handled the reporters pretty nicely. He answered questions, striking a nice balance between sincere and cocky, and while they still had questions to ask him he flashed the number-one grin, gave a victorious wave, and pushed through them and got into his car. Diana stepped on the gas, and they drove down to the end of the block and turned the corner. I stood there watching until they were out of sight.
Of course she'd had to come to pick him up. And she would take it easy for a day or two, and then she'd let him know how things stood.
She'd said she didn't expect much trouble from him. She was certain he didn't love her and that she had long since ceased to be important in his life. But I was to give her a couple of days, and then she would call.
"Well, that was pretty exciting," a voice behind me said. "I figured maybe we were supposed to throw rice at the happy couple, something like that."
Without turning I said, "Hello, Eddie."
"Hello, Matt. Beautiful morning, isn't it?"
"Not bad."
"I suppose you're feeling pretty good."
"Not too bad."
"Cigar?"Lieutenant Eddie Koehler didn't wait for an answer, put the cigar in his own mouth and lit it. It took him three matches because the wind blew out the first two. "I oughta get a lighter," he said. "You check out that lighter Broadfield was using before? Looked expensive."
"I think it probably is."
"Looked like gold to me."
"Probably.Though gold and gold plate look pretty much the same."
"They don't cost the same, though. Do they?"
"Not as a general rule."
He smiled, swung out a hand, and gripped my upper arm. "Aw, you son of a bitch," he said.
"Lemme buy you a drink, you old son of a bitch."
"It's a little early for me, Eddie.Maybe a cup of coffee."
"Even better.Since when is it ever too early to buy you a drink?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll take it a little easier on the booze, see if it makes a difference."
"Yeah?"
"Well, for a while, anyway."
He eyed me appraisingly. "You sound like your old self a little, you know that? I can't remember the last time you sounded like this."
"Don't make too much out of it, Eddie. All I'm doing is passing up a drink."
"No, there's something else. I can't put my finger on it, but something's different."