«Give me two minutes without interrupting,» I said. «You’ve got a drug problem here. I know you have and you know you have, so don’t bother covering up, but let me go on from there. I can break it. I can go to the police with this but that would mean a lot of trouble for me and, in the end, a lot of bad news for the hotel. If you help me now, you can take the credit for whatever turns up—I don’t want any—and that will help the hotel.»
He looked at me appraisingly and carefully disposed of his cigar, which stank abominably. «What’s in it for you?»
«Giles Devore was killed because of something I didn’t do—»
«That package of pens?»
«Yes. And I want to make up for it by getting the person who killed him.»
Marsogliani sighed heavily and said something that was probably Italian. Then he said, «You want help? What kind of help?»
«I can lay a trap for the killer, if you help me. I’ll need two people, you and your man, Michael Strong. We were all three up in Giles’s room after I found the body and if we all three go up now, and if you give me fifteen minutes, no more, we’ll have the killer.»
«You mean, he’ll walk in on us? He’ll return to the scene of the crime?»
«I’m not saying it’s a man,» I said cautiously, «and I’m not saying it will be simple. But we three were there the day before yesterday with the dead body in the bathroom. We know what it was like then. We’ll be able to understand what will happen, you see.»
«No, I don’t. Tell me what you have in mind, or get out.»
«I can’t tell you. I don’t have the evidence and you won’t believe me. But if I do get out, I’ll go to the police. They might not believe me, either, but they’ll have to check it out since drugs are involved and who knows what will turn up and how bad it will be for you and for the hotel. But give me fifteen minutes in Room 1511 and you’ll have everything you want; and if I’m wrong, I’ll just get out and forget the whole thing. The police won’t be involved either way.»
«Yes?» he said. «You’ll just forget it? Listen, if you get me up there and the whole thing is a jackass screwball flop, then you’re not just getting out. I’ll help you out with a kick that will boost your backbone right up through the roof of your mouth.»
«I’ll let you do it. I’ll hold still,» I said. «How about it?»
There was a wait of nearly a minute, while I bet myself a despairing four to one that it wouldn’t work. Then he said, «Do you want us all to go up together, or do you want Strong to join us up there?»
«All together,» I said quickly, «but I want to go up by some route that won’t take us through the lobby or any of the ballroom floors, so can you get Strong down here and then take us up the way you bring bodies down?»
«So no one will know we’re in the room? And then the murderer will join us?»
«Just fifteen minutes is what I need.»
«What will be the magic that will bring the murderer up there?»
«I’ve set it up,» I said. «It will work. What can you lose? Fifteen minutes. In return you’ll have the pleasure of hoisting me two feet with the toe of your shoe.»
«By God,» he said, «I’ll pay fifteen minutes for that pleasure.»
5 ANTHONY MARSOGLIANI 11:35 A.M.
Michael Strong was brought down by walkie-talkie. He saw me the moment he walked in and stopped in surprise.
His sandy eyebrows lifted.
Marsogliani said, «Okay, Strong, we’ll need your help. We’re going up to 1511 and—»
«Where the guy fell in the tub?»
«Yes. This character here says if we go up and wait fifteen minutes, somebody is going to walk in and admit he killed the man. We’re going to give him fifteen minutes and after that, if nothing happens, I want you to take him and get him out fast, because if you don’t I intend to kill him.»
«Let’s go up,» I said, trying not to let my voice quaver (God, suppose I’m wrong), «and it will be over by noon.»
«You’ll be over by noon,» said Marsogliani, and there was no doubt of that in his voice.
Strong said nothing, but his eyes were opaque and hostile as well. I had no friends in that room, and I wasn’t surprised.
We went up a freight elevator which was hand-operated.
The operator greeted Marsogliani with a nod of his head and received nothing at all in return. We went up to the fifteenth floor, all of us, in silence. Marsogliani motioned me out first.
I leaned my head out to make sure there was no one in the corridor. We all got out and I whispered, «Which way?» I was disoriented.
Marsogliani led, walking quickly and surprisingly softly.
We followed. There was only one place where we had to make a left turn and he motioned me forward again. There was no one there, either to left or right, and we moved on.
Marsogliani let us in with his passkey.
There was the room, dead and lifeless, waiting for the next person to twist it into a faint echo of a temporary home.
Marsogliani looked at his watch. «It’s eleven forty-two,» he said. «I give you till eleven fifty-seven. Not a second more.»
«Okay. Listen, can you have the door open so that someone can walk in without having to pick the lock.»
«All right,» he said. He left the door closed, but unlatched, then moved back and leaned against the bureau with his eyes on it. «Fourteen minutes,» he said.
Michael Strong stood on the other side of the bed, also watching the door with a kind of fascination. And I watched with him, keeping my back to the damned bathroom.
Marsogliani said softly, «Ten minutes.»
I said, even more softly, «You don’t have to count.»
I could feel a drop of perspiration gathering at one temple and beginning to trickle down my face. The air conditioning wasn’t on, of course. I didn’t want its noise drowning anything.
More minutes passed. I fumbled for a piece of paper out of the inner pocket of my jacket. It was the condensed program of the convention. I whispered to Strong, «Lend me your pen for a moment.»
He said, in an ordinary speaking voice, «What?»
I motioned him to silence with an anguished gesture.
«There’s only five minutes left. Let me have your pen.»
The tension had built to the point where all three of us were living in an unreal world, which was what I was counting on. Strong nodded, pulled out the left side of his jacket, and selected one of the three pens in his inner pocket.
«Not that one,» I said urgently. «The other one.»
He held out the pen he had taken. «What?»
«The other one,» I whispered. «The other one.»
And then as he stood there frozen in surprise, I lunged at his jacket, tore out one of the other pens, and threw myself over the bed to the other side.
The tension did its work and Strong broke apart. He let out a shriek of anger. «Give me that,» he yelled. «Give me my pen.»
«Why?» I shouted. «What’s inside?»
He dashed around the bed and I tumbled over it again.
By now, Marsogliani had come to life with a roar. «What the hell are you doing, Just?»
«I’ve got a pen,» I shouted, balancing myself on my toes and watching Strong sharply. «I’ve got his pen and I want to open it. Will you hold him?»
And Marsogliani began to see what was happening, so that when Strong dashed at me once again, he came up hard against the large man’s vest. Marsogliani’s arms moved quickly and, in a flash, Strong was whirled about and both his elbows were pinned behind.
«Watch out for his legs,» I said.
«Stand still, Strong,» said Marsogliani, «or I’ll throw your arms out the window and leave the rest of you here… What have you got, Just?»