“Great. Here’s my pitch. Last night before I got to sleep I spent a lot of time going over everything that’s happened. I picked and pulled at all the important stuff—Pandora’s Box, for instance—and couldn’t get a fingernail in. So what I think is that if you can’t grab on to anything important, maybe you ought to get hold of something that isn’t and give it good yank. Who knows, if I can start a long enough ravel some of the important stuff might come loose.”
“No investigator would disagree with you.”
“Goody. So here’s my loose end. Tell me if it isn’t worth doing, and if it is, give me some advice on how to do it.”
“I’ll try,” Blue promised.
Muddy brought over a big plate of bacon. He must have fried the whole pound, and it was country style—soft and greasy—which happens to be the way I like it.
“My loose end’s Molly. Remember when I was in the hospital and I told you and Sandoz about going to the Magic Key, and the phone calls for Larry? Later you told me you already knew about them.”
Blue nodded.
“Then you probably remember how Megan told me that whenever this guy called he’d ask for Sergeant Lief, and when they said he wasn’t there, he’d hang up. Megan said his voice was scary, but that’s all he said.”
“I remember, yes.”
“Okay, here’s the part I didn’t tell. I didn’t because the cop was there and I didn’t want to get Molly in trouble. While we were talking, Molly pulled a gun from under the register and said if anybody hurt Larry she’d shoot them. It was a revolver, I think a thirty-eight, and after Uncle Herbert was shot I just kind of wondered if maybe Molly had decided he did it. But then yesterday Sandoz took that Gestapo gun of my father’s—”
“It was a PPK,” Blue interrupted. “Those letters stand for Polizei Pistole Kriminal, by which the Walther Corporation meant that it was intended for what we would call plainclothes men.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. So if he was right, it wasn’t a revolver at all, which means it wasn’t Molly.”
“No,” Blue said, “all it means is that if it was Molly who killed your uncle, she employed a weapon other than the one she showed you; but we have no better reasons to suspect Molly than several other people. And it was, in fact, a semiautomatic that fired the shot. The police have the bullet, and it is the fully jacketed type used in semiautomatics. Perhaps I should add that they also found the ejected brass, which is how Sandoz knew in what part of that parking lot your uncle died; revolvers don’t eject their spent cartridges. I think we can safely assume that by this time they’ve run a ballistic comparison that will enable them to say for certain whether the pistol Sandoz took from your father’s drawer killed your uncle. The results of that test are among the things I must determine this morning.”
I waved all that aside. “What I’m trying to say is that Molly had a gun and was ready to kill whoever made those calls if Larry got hurt. Now I ask you—a guy keeps calling, asking for Sergeant Lief. Maybe he tells war stories—that’s what I heard her say on TV one time. Does the way she was acting make sense? Maybe he did sound scary—some people just naturally do, and over the phone it might sound worse. Maybe he got shot in the throat or something in Vietnam.”
“All right,” Blue said, “Molly seems to have been overreacting. Go on from there.”
“What I think is that whenever this guy—let’s call him X, it sounds good—called and got Megan, he knew he had Larry’s kid sister. He didn’t want to scare her, or maybe just didn’t think it was worth the trouble. But when he had Molly, he said more than she told the TV people about. Maybe she told the police, maybe not. Maybe she told you.”
Blue shook his head.
“So that’s my loose end. I want to try to get her to tell me everything he said, and especially why she thought it was so serious she pulled out that gun. Then we’ll follow wherever it leads, and maybe it’ll just peter out and maybe it won’t. What I need for you to tell me is how to go about it.”
“You’re a woman,” Blue said. “You were born knowing more about how to go about something of this sort than I’ll ever be able to learn. But if I were you, I think I’d simply go to her in private and explain what it was that I wanted to ask and why I wanted to ask it. I would tell her that I loved my father, and that Larry cannot be hurt anymore—that he is forever out of harm’s way. I’d begin by asking her to repeat the caller’s exact words, as nearly as she remembers them; when she had done so—and not before—I would ask whether she had not, at least at some time, suspected that he was someone she knew.”
“Okay, I’m going to give it my best shot.”
“Fine.” Blue was looking absentminded, and so help me he reached out and got a slice of bacon and ate it. I couldn’t see Muddy from where I sat, but I was willing to bet he was jumping for joy. “However,” Blue went on, “I think it would be best if you were home by, roughly, ten-thirty. Do you think you might manage that?”
I looked at my watch. “Sure.”
“And it would be well for you to bring Molly. Particularly if she has told you what you want to know.”
“To my house? What am I supposed to do with her when I get her there?”
“I’ll be there as well,” Blue said, “and I’ll let you know then.”
How Elaine Let the Cat Out of the Bag
My bum-leg driving rattled Molly so much we had to stop halfway so I could slide over and she could walk around. After that her driving rattled me. She was one of those haywagon drivers who think the engine may bolt and jerk the wheel out of their hands. Also she liked to come to a complete stop before making a turn, which rattled the drivers in the cars behind us who didn’t know her turn signal meant she was about to hit the brakes that hard. By the time we got to my place—I should really say my father’s—I was ready to get out and walk, bum leg and all.
It was nearly a quarter to eleven, and Blue and Uncle Dee had beaten us. Their cars were out front, and they were in the living room talking to Elaine, Uncle Dee perched on the edge of his chair looking tense, Blue sitting about the way he usually did, with his hands on the handle of his stick.
“Oh, it’s you, Holly,” Elaine said. “You should be in bed.” Uncle Dee and Blue stood up.
I performed introductions. “This is Mrs. Lief. She was Larry’s wife.” I honestly didn’t know if Larry’s father or the cops had told Molly about the letters yet. If the cops hadn’t, they were bound to soon; but damned if I was going to do it and light a crisis. “Molly, this is my mother, Elaine. De Witte Sinclair. Aladdin Blue.”
“We’ve met,” Blue said. “Hello, Molly.”
Uncle Dee said, “Charmed, Mrs. Lief,” and inclined his head in a little bow.
Elaine had nothing to spare for Molly. “Holly, your friend Mr. Blue has already telephoned the police, he says. Now he’s threatening to call the television news people. You know Jane Dalton had a television crew in her house about the garden tour, and she says it was terrible.”
Uncle Dee said, “I don’t believe they’ll be coming, Elaine. At least, I hope not.”
Since Elaine wouldn’t offer her a seat, I put Molly on the sofa with me.
“I won’t let them in,” Elaine declared. “Not unless they tell me everything they intend to do first.” Her purse was on the coffee table in front of her, and she got out her compact to check herself over for the cameras. “Does anyone know exactly how their makeup differs? Do they make up women, too, or is it just a matter of powdering the men?”
The chimes sang their little tune.
“Holly, could you—oh, no, of course you can’t. I don’t know where Mrs. Maas has gotten to. I hate to answer my own door. De Witte … ?”