Within a few seconds there was a frightful din, as the girls groped their way to the registers to retrieve the cash, the officers groped their way to the girls and tried to get them out, and the photographers groped their way inside again to take pictures of the scene by flash-bulb, all yelling at the top of their lungs. But a dull, flickering glow took command at last, accompanied by the smell of smoke, and by the light of that, the girls ran out, handing their money to Tony at the door. After them stamped the irate officers. When the fire apparatus arrived, in answer to Mr. Britten’s call, some of the crowd was out front, but most of it was at the side, watching Tony, Jake, and one or two others throwing water into the storeroom window with buckets.
Dmitri, being already out, took no part in any of these proceedings, but stood apart, some little distance off, apparently studying how best to take advantage of the diversion he had created. When the firemen piled off their trucks and began coupling their hose to the plugs along the main highway, he spotted the Sheriff, standing with the first chief near the ladder truck. Going over and speaking in a large, confident way, he said: “Can I bother you one minute, Sharf?”
“What about?”
“Plizze, is confidential.”
Wonderingly the Sheriff followed him a few steps off, until they were on the banks of the little mountain stream. Dmitri cleared his throat, said mysteriously and importantly: “Sharf, there was one thing. One thing I didn’t tell when Excellenz ask me. Sharf, I feel sure this Vicki, this my friend, he killed himself.”
“What you got to go on?”
“Last night he wrote a letter.”
“How do you know?”
“He took my pen. My pen with green ink. He wrote a letter to Sylvia, put a special on, drove out and mailed it. Sharf, when he finish this letter, Vicki cried. He cried like a baby. In my arms, he cried. Sharf, I know this man took his own life.”
“Well, you could be right.”
“What did she say when she read this letter, ha?”
“That the letter you gave me?”
“Sure, it was the same one.
“She never saw it.”
“She— What did you say?”
“I burned it up. She got kind of upset when I handed it to her. Broke her up. I didn’t see any reason for making her feel worse. I pitched it on the fire. It’s gone.”
Dmitri made a noise like a very small pig. The Sheriff watched an emergency truck of the electric light company turn in at the gate, then turned a reflective eye on the wretched little figure in front of him. “You seem kind of upset yourself.”
“Yes, Sharf. He was my friend.”
“We’ll never know.”
He started to rejoin the fire chief, but Dmitri caught his arm. “No, Sharf, plizze don’t go. I must talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Money.”
“In what way would you want to talk to me about money?”
“Man to man.”
“You sure you don’t mean crook to cop?”
“Why, that’s ridiculous.”
“Then say what it is.”
“Now, Sharf, don’t get sore, because I don’t know how goes with you. Sometimes a guy needs money, sometimes not.”
“He generally does.”
“O. K., then if twanny five-fifty will help out, say the word, here I am. Cesh, or any way you want it.”
“You think I could be bought for fifty bucks?”
“Bucks? Don’t make me laugh. Grand.”
Even the Sheriff, no stranger to matters cinematic, blinked at this gay riposte. “You mean you’d pay me fifty thousand dollars to cover up something in this case?”
“Cover up? Who said cover up?”
“Then for what?”
“That I can sleep my nights, Sharf. That I can go back to Hollywood and hold up my head. That I can look people in the eye. That they don’t say, he let his friend be killed. That they don’t say, there goes the dirty heel that didn’t think any more of his friend than to let him use a loaded gun. That they don’t say—”
“I got the idea.”
“Sharf, I know this note says Vicki will take his own life if Sylwia gets a divorce. All I ask, Sharf, is that you tell you read note first. Before you burned it up. You burned it up, that’s O. K. Who wouldn’t? My God, to save a girl from feeling so bad, anybody would burn it up. You do this for me, so all know Dimmy Spiro is no heel, that all know Vicki himself did this, that’s all I esk. No cover up. The truth, Sharf! The truth!”
The Sheriff cogitated over this some moments, staring at Dmitri, or at that spot a few inches behind Dmitri’s head that seemed to be his focal point at certain moments. Then he said: “Here’s where you get the surprise of your life. I’m taking your money.”
“Sharf! Sharf! I die! From happy!”
“I want your check.”
“Anything.”
“Make it to Parker Lucas, Treasurer.”
“Treasurer what?”
“Just at large.”
“O. K., do like you say.”
“I won’t testify that you read the letter, but I’ll testify there was a letter, and that I burned it. If you want to testify that you lent him the pen to write the letter, and that he cried and made remarks that led you to think it was a suicide letter, then O. K., that’s up to you. But I’ll agree if the inquest turns out in a way that interferes with your sleep, to return your money.”
“O. K., Sharf, it’s wonderful!”
The Sheriff led the way to his car and got in, beckoning Dmitri to follow. Then he turned on the top light, and Dmitri got out a single blank check. Then, using the brim of the Sheriff’s hat for a writing table, he wrote a check, handed it over. After examining it carefully, the Sheriff put it in his pocket.
“O. K., Mr. Spiro, thanks.”
“Ah, Sharf, you don’t know what you do for me.”
“You set that fire?”
“...What you say, Sharf?”
“I asked you if you set this place on fire.”
“O. K., Sharf, I did.”
“You’re paying for that too. Every cent it takes to repair that damage, so Tony doesn’t even put in a claim.”
“Sharf, you know I will.”
Chapter Twelve
THE INQUEST, WHEN IT assembled in a quite battered casino, showed every indication of frayed nerves. It was, and had been even before the fire, in the last few minutes of its life, and the jury, to say nothing of officers, witnesses, and newspaper men, wanted to get away. The Coroner rapped for order, and instructed the jury that they were to certify the fact of death, the cause of death, the manner of death, if they had been able to ascertain it, and any consequences of death they thought proper to include, particularly whether they knew of any persons who should be held for the grand jury. He was interrupted by the Sheriff, who asked permission to add to his testimony. He then said what he had promised Dmitri he would say. Dmitri was then permitted to testify about the letter, and especially the way his head would hang in shame if it were fastened upon him that he had been careless enough to let his friend be killed by accident, whereas in truth the affair had been a deliberate, if cunningly concealed suicide. The Coroner said: “You are to disregard the last two pieces of evidence, since conjecture, regard for personal feelings, or other irrelevant things don’t concern you.”