Lombard took something out of his wallet. “Is this him?”
The blind man hitched his glasses up out of the way, scrutinized the snapshot critically. “I’d say it was,” he said finally. “Considering how short a glimpse I had of him, and how long ago it was, it looks to me like the same guy.”
“What about her? You’d know her again if you saw her?”
“I already have. I only saw him that one night, but I saw her at least once more after that—”
“What!” Lombard was suddenly on his feet, leaning over him. The rocker swayed emptily behind him. He grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing as if trying to get the information out of his skinny frame in that way. “Let me hear about it! Come on, quick!”
“It was not very long after that same night, that’s how I knew it was she. It was in front of one of the big swanky hotels, and you know how bright they are. I heard a pair of footsteps coming down the steps, a man’s and a woman’s. I heard the woman say, ‘Wait a minute, maybe this’ll bring me luck,’ and I knew she meant me. I heard her footsteps turn aside and come over to me. A coin went in. A quarter. I can tell the different coins by the sounds they make. And then the funny part of it happened, that made me know it was she. It’s such a little thing, I don’t know if you’ll be able to catch on like I did. She stood still for just a tiny minute there in front of me, and they never do. The coin was already in, so I knew she must be looking at me. Or something about me. I was holding the cup in my right hand, the one with the burn on it, and the burn was one of those big water-blisters by that time. I think it must have been that she saw, on the side of my finger. Anyway, here’s what happened. I heard her say under her breath — not to me, but to herself — ‘Why, how very odd—!’ And then her footsteps turned and went back to where the man’s were. That was all—”
“But—”
“Wait a minute, I’m not finished yet. I opened my eyes just a slit, to look down at the cup. And she’d added a dollar hill to the original quarter she’d put in the first time. I knew it was she, because it hadn’t been in there until then. Now why should she change her mind and add a dollar bill after she’d already put in a quarter? It must have been the same woman; she must have recognized the blister and remembered what had happened a few nights be—”
“Must have, must have,” gritted Lombard impatiently. “I thought you said you saw her, could tell me what she looked like!”
“I can’t tell you what she looks like from the front, because I didn’t dare open my eyes. The lights were too bright around there, it would have been a give away. After she turned away and I saw the dollar bill, I peered up a little higher under my lashes and saw her from the back, as she w as getting into the car.”
“From the back! Well, tell me that at least, what was she like from the back!”
“I couldn’t see all of her even from the back, I was afraid to look up that high. All I saw was just the seam of a silk stocking and one heel, as she raised it to step in. That was all that was in focus with my downcast eyelids.”
“An orange hat one night. A stocking-seam and the heel of her shoe another night a week later!” Lombard gave him a fling back onto the bed. “At this rate, after about twenty years we’ll have a whole woman to stick in between the two!”
He went over to the door, flung it open. He looked back at him balefully. “You can do a lot better than that, and I’m sure of it! What you need is the professional touch, to bring it out. You certainly did see her full eye-width the first night, outside the theater. And the second time you must have heard the address given to the driver of the car, as she stepped in—”
“No I didn’t.”
“You stay here, get it? Don’t move from here. I’m going down and call up this fellow I told you about. I want him to come over here and listen to this with me.”
“But he’s a bull, isn’t he?”
“I told you that’s all right. We’re not interested in you, either one of us. You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. But don’t try to run out before I get back, or then we will make it hot for you.”
He closed the door after him.
The voice at the other end sounded surprised. “You got something already?”
“I’ve got something already, and I want you to hear it for what it’s worth. I think you can probably get a lot more out of it than I can. I’m way up here at a Hundred and Twenty-Third Street and Park Avenue, the last house short of the railroad tracks. I’d like you to get over here as fast as you can, and see what you think of it. I’ve got the beat-cop posted at the door watching it for me until I can get back. I’m talking from around the corner, nearest phone I could find. I’ll be waiting down there by the street entrance for you.”
Burgess dropped off a patrol car with a running slowdown a few minutes later. The car went on without stopping and he came over to where Lombard and the cop were standing waiting in the doorway.
“In here,” Lombard said, turning to go in without any further explanation.
“Well, I guess I can get back on the line,” the cop said, turning away.
“Thanks a lot, officer,” Lombard called out to him. They were already in at the stairs by that time. “All the way up at the top,” he explained, taking the lead. “He’s seen her twice, that night and another time, a week later. He’s a blind man; don’t laugh, phony of course.”
“Well, that was worth coming over for,” Burgess admitted.
They made the first turning, one behind the other, hands coasting along the rail. “Wants immunity — about the blindness. Scared of cops.”
“We can work something out, if it’s worth it,” Burgess grunted.
Second landing. “One more.” Lombard checked off gratuitously.
They saved their breath for climbing on the next.
Third landing. “What happened to the lights from here on up?” Burgess heaved.
A hitch snagged the rhythm of Lombard’s ascent. “That’s funny. There was one still on when I came down. Either the bulb died, or it was tampered with, turned off.”
“You sure it was still on?”
“Absolutely. I remember he had his room dark, but light from the hall came in through the open door.”
“Better let me go first. I’ve got a pocket light.” Burgess detoured around him, took the lead.
He must have been still in the process of getting it out. At the middle turn, between floors, where the stairs changed direction, he suddenly went floundering down on all fours. “Look out,” he warned Lombard. “Step back.”
The moon of his torch sprang up, bleaching the little oblong between end wall and bottom step. Spanning it lay an inert figure, grotesquely contorted. Legs trailing downward off the last few steps, torso proper on the level landing place, but head bent backward at an unnatural and acute angle by the impediment of the end wall at the turn. Dangling from one ear, but miraculously unbroken, was a pair of dark glasses.
“That him?” he muttered.
“It’s him.” agreed Lombard tersely.
Burgess bent over the figure, probed awhile. Then he straightened up again. “Broken neck.” he said. “Killed instantly.” He shot his light up the stair incline. Then he went up there, jittered it around on the floor. “Accident.” he said. “Missed his footing up here on the top step, went all the way down headfirst, and crashed head-on into that wall backing the turn. I can see the skid marks up here, over the lip of the top step.”
Lombard climbed slowly up to where he was, blew out his breath in a disgusted snort. “Fine time for an accident! I no sooner contact him—” He stopped short, looked at the detective searchingly in the battery light rays. “You don’t think it could have been anything else, do you?”