"Something made him decide that he'd have to kill Eggleston, or perhaps he lost his temper. Then he realized that he'd have to get the body out of the building. The time of death could be approximated, and his presence in the building could be established. The only solution was to remove the body and hide it.
"The facts that the murderer apparently was well acquainted with Eggleston and feared identification prove that he is a local man who intends to remain here," according to Hastings. He was unable to explain why a permanent resident of the city was driving a car with an out- of-state license, but…
He wouldn't be unable to explain very long. Not if he was only half as bright as this story made him out to be. This was Capital City. There were hundreds of cars here with official license plates, the white plates with the square S at each end. That cop last night had only got a glimpse of my plates, and he'd put them down as belonging to some other state. But he wouldn't be long in changing his mind, having it changed by Det. Lt. Hastings.
I got the wallet out of my trousers and counted the money it contained. Only nine dollars, but there was a hundred and fifty more in the drawer of my writing desk. Doc had said it would be right there until he could get time to go to the bank with me.
A hundred and fifty-nine dollars. I could travel quite a ways on that if I had to.
I took a look at the clock, scooped up the clothes I had worn the night before and put them in the closet. The elevator operator had
said I was wearing a dark suit-it was blue-black shoes-they were tan-and a gray hat-correct. I laid out a brown hat, a light gray suit, and
brown-and-white oxfords.
I finished dressing and picked up the paper again. Another front-page picture and story caught my eye:
PHALANX LEADER SPEAKS TONIGHT
Fanning Arnholt, president of the National Phalanx and authority on subversive activities, will open his state-wide lecture series tonight with an address at 8:30 in Orpheum Hall.
Speaking on "Our Schools-Battleground of the Underground," Arnholt is expected to launch an all-out attack on a large group of textbooks which he claims are subversive. His appearance here is sponsored by local chapters of the Phalanx.
"The scarlet poison of Un-Americanism is flowing unchecked through the educational arteries of this great state," the noted patriotic leader declared upon his arrival here last night. "The antidote is an aroused citizenry which will force its legislative representatives into the proper and drastic action…"
So that Doc's crowd could make one last raid on the treasury.
I tossed the paper aside, and got up to help Henry with the breakfast tray. I told him to take everything back but the toast, orange juice and coffee. He fidgeted around the table, uncomfortably, doing everything twice.
"Something on your mind, Henry?" I asked.
"Well-" he hesitated, "you know that money you had, Mr. Cosgrove? There in your desk?"
I nodded. "What about it?"
"Well…1 don't know whether you noticed yet or not, but it's gone. Dr. Luther took it. I thought I'd better tell you in case it slips his mind, since Willie and I are in your room so much."
"I understand," I said. "Did the doctor say why he was taking it?"
"No, sir. He just came in while I was cleaning up yesterday and got it."
"Thanks," I said. "Thanks for telling me, Henry. I won't mention that you said anything."
He gave me a grateful smile and left. I sat down at the table and munched at a piece of toast.
Nine dollars. Nine instead of a hundred and fifty-nine.
Sipping my suddenly tasteless orange juice, I knew what his explanation would be. Without looking around, I knew something else: that he was there in the room with me.
I don't know whether Henry had left the door ajar, or whether he had opened it very quietly. But he was standing there, leaning against the wall, staring at me reflectively through the thick-rimmed glasses.
I poured coffee, took a swallow of it, and half-turned my head. "Good morning, Doc. Coffee?"
"Good morning, Pat," he said, tiredly. "No, thanks."
He crossed to the bed and sat down. I turned my back again and went on with my breakfast, listening to the rattle of the newspaper.
"Pat."
"Yes, Doc?"
"I took the money you had in your desk. I thought we'd get that bank account opened for you."
"Fine," I said.
"I won't be able to get down today, though. Maybe we can make it tomorrow."
"Fine," I repeated. For I had expected that, and what else was there for me to say?
The paper rattled again, and there was another long silence. I drank my coffee and waited. Waited for him to read the story about Eggleston. To re-read it, perhaps, and then stare at me, looking at my hair and my clothes and remembering that I had been out late last night.
His voice was overly casual when he spoke.
"That's a nice-looking outfit you have on, Pat. I don't believe I've seen you in it before."
"Thank you," I said. "I thought I'd put on something light with the weather getting so warm."
I heard him light a cigarette. I even heard his slow meditative puffing.
"Why don't you drive your own car today, Pat? The battery's apt to run down if you don't drive it once in a while."
"I think I will," I said.
"You can put the state car here in the garage."
"Thank you. I'll do that."
He didn't speak again until I was drinking the last of my coffee, coffee that I didn't want. "By the way, Pat-that group I'm having in tonight. I'd like to use your room for them, if you don't mind."
"Anything you say, Doc," I said.
"We'll have to shift the furniture around a bit. Bring in some other chairs, and so on. If you can get your dinner outside it'll give us a chance to get everything ready before our guests get here."
"I'll be glad to help," I said.
"No, no. Henry and Willie can take care of everything. Just drop in at eight-thirty, or a few minutes before, rather. We'll be listening to a radio program, and I don't want anyone coming in after it's started."
I nodded and turned around.
He got up from the bed and sauntered toward the door, his eyes shifting so that they avoided mine.
"It's a tough world isn't it, Pat?" he said, in a tired flat voice.
"I used to think so,"! said, "until you came along."
"What do you mean by that?" He flicked me a sharp glance.
"I was referring to all you'd done for me," I said. "The clothes, the job, the car, the home, the-well, the friendship you've given me. Unselfishly. Simply because I needed help. How can I feel it's a bad world as long as there's a man like you in it?"