“Sillkirk.”
“My name is Ellison. Mr. Taylor took this apartment almost a year ago. Is that correct?”
“Yes, they moved in at that time. Mr. Taylor gave me the full year’s rental in advance. They were in Eighteen C. I’m most anxious to get in touch with Mr. Taylor.”
“Mr. Taylor is dead, Mr. Sillkirk.”
The small man bit his lip. “That’s unfortunate. I’ve been in this place a long time, Mr. Ellison. I seldom misjudge people. Frankly, I liked Mr. Taylor. He was a most pleasant man. It shows you how wrong you can be.”
“What happened?”
“He was a traveling man. Of course, you know that. They were a quiet, well-behaved couple. I was aware, of course, that Mrs. Taylor had a — friend who visited her often while Mr. Taylor was away. That sort of thing is none of my business so long as they don’t disturb or annoy the other tenants. In February, I was visited by the police. They asked a lot of questions about the Taylors. I was not aware that Mrs. Taylor was gone. They had a court order, and I had to unlock Eighteen C for them. They searched it carefully and left that fingerprint powder all over everything.”
“Did they tell you anything?”
“That was the infuriating part. They completely ignored me. All they would tell me was that I could consider the apartment available to rent again. I felt sure Mr. Taylor would return and give me a reasonable explanation. He didn’t return. At last, about ten days after the police had searched it, I unlocked it. I’ve never had such a shock in my life.”
“What do you mean?”
“The damages amount to twelve hundred dollars. The apartment was wrecked. Completely wrecked. And, because it was wrecked while the Taylors were still legally in possession, they are financially responsible. The owners of this building are very anxious to locate them.”
“Did you report this to the police?”
“Of course. And they came back again and went through the same procedure. That sort of thing is very distressing.” “Of course. Could you describe Mrs. Taylor for me?”
“A tall woman. I believe her hair, a very pale blonde, was bleached. She had a slightly hard look around the mouth. Not what I would call a suitable wife for Mr. Taylor. She dressed in a rather flashy way. But as I said, she was quiet and well-behaved. Now, I’ve given you quite a bit of information, and you’ve given me none at all. I hope you won’t take the same attitude as those policemen.”
“Frankly, Mr. Sillkirk, I can’t tell you very much. I’ll tell you this. His name wasn’t Taylor, and she wasn’t his wife. He had a very legal wife in another city. He and his legal wife were in an automobile accident in February. Taylor was killed and his wife was badly injured. Taylor was engaged in some sort of criminal activity. I don’t know yet what it was.”
“This legal wife who was injured — do you think she could be held responsible for the damage here?”
“I doubt it. And even if she could, she hasn’t a dime.”
“That’s odd. Mr. Taylor paid a year in advance, and he had a very expensive automobile.”
“Sorry I can’t give you any more information. I just don’t know any more.”
“Maybe the police will help.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
Sillkirk walked him to the door. He seemed embarrassed. He said finally, “This is a quiet place, Mr. Ellison. Things like this seldom happen. If you find out what is going on, I hope you’ll tell me. Just idle curiosity, of course.”
Brock smiled. “I’ll give you a ring if I can,” he promised.
It took Brock a full day and a half to break through the conspiracy of official silence. He was shunted from one enigmatic official to another, and spent hours in dusty oak waiting rooms.
At last he was sent to an obscure, ancient office building, to a fourth-floor office where the only indication that this was a federal agency feared and respected in certain illicit circles was the cryptic initials on the pebbled glass of the door. A gaunt, vague young man admitted him to an inner private office and closed the door, leaving Brock alone with a fleshy gentleman who looked half asleep. But his eyes were sharp, and his mouth had the look of a trap.
“You’re persistent, Ellison. Sit down.”
Brock sat, facing him across the desk. “I have to be. I’m paid for it.”
“Because you’re retained by Mrs. Roger Talbott, I’ve been tempted to keep on giving you the run-around, Ellison. On the other hand, we did some checking. You’re a trustworthy citizen of good character, and your record shows that you’ve performed a few services for the federal Government.”
“Why check on me?”
“In our business, Ellison, things are not always what they seem. Why didn’t you get the story from Mrs. Talbott?”
“She doesn’t know a thing.”
The man shrugged. “Perhaps. At least I know you believe that. I don’t think you’d still be on the case if you didn’t.”
“Care to give me a fill-in?”
“Narcotics control is strictly a discouraging operation. Too many ports of entry. Not enough men. Netting the ones who push the stuff isn’t the answer. They’re too far from the import syndicates, too far down the ladder. We like tips. We got one. Phone call. Male voice. Pay station. Go to such and such a tavern at such and such a time and pick up a big shipment. Two ship’s officers are turning it over to a tall blonde wearing a white blouse, green-wool suit. We knew sizable shipments were coming in here. It looked like a break. It was.”
“The blonde was Mrs. Taylor?”
“Right. On our books as an addict named Muriel Bard. The syndicates are safe when the pushers are addicts. But it isn’t smart to use an addict as a courier. Three days off the stuff, and she was falling all over herself to tell us what she knew. Three years ago a man known to her only as Johnny arranged a contact between her and this Horace Taylor. He would come to town at intervals, contact her, give her a sealed envelope, tell her where to take it and who to give it to. She would meet seamen, pursers, oilers, so on. They’d be off ships from the Orient, South America, Italy. The bulk heroin she would take back to Taylor. The operation got bigger as time went on. She thinks she handled forty to fifty pounds during the period. And that, Ellison, represents a fortune in any man’s money. While Taylor was in town she lived with him as man and wife. The apartment was a more recent development. In return for her services she had the use of the apartment, a hundred a week, and her habitual supply of drugs. We got her, got the two ship’s officers, and also several other greedy gentlemen who had brought the stuff in the past. We picked up the large shipment the tipster mentioned. We moved in as soon as the transfer was made. Oddly enough, the sealed envelope contained newspaper cut to money size. We went to the apartment. Someone had gone over it carefully, removing all traces of one Horace Taylor. That made the picture clear, both to us and to Muriel.”
“What do you mean?”
“It meant that Horace Taylor was our tipster.”
“But you seem to know that Taylor was Roger Talbott. Did Muriel Bard know that?”
“She knew him only as Taylor. It could have been a dead end. But removing all prints from a place is something more than difficult. We found a few that weren’t Muriel’s and didn’t belong to her addict boyfriend either. Found them on the back of the medicine-cabinet door, on a light bulb in a ceiling fixture, on the underside of the soap dish in the shower. We built a set and had them run through the central files of the FBI. Back they came with the name of Roger Talbott, one-time guest of the Government at Leavenworth, home address Thrace. A few days had gone by, of course. I flew men up there right away. Roger Talbott was dead in a car smash. Wife still unconscious. My men worked in Thrace until they had to admit it was a dead end. Talbott was out of reach. And no basis for charges against his legal wife.”