“No. Mr. Kanter, nothing like that.” And the sergeant hung up, leaving Kanter wondering uneasily what he should do.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sergeant Herder of the Boston Police Department was a man of infinite patience, and he found himself forced to use every bit of it as he dealt with the slattern before him. “Now, look, Madelaine, let’s see if we can get a little cooperation. Remember what I told you: That man knows you saw him leave the Wilcox place, and he might get worried about it and try to do something drastic. Do you understand?”
The woman, her eyes fixed on him as though hypnotized, nodded her head rapidly.
“What do you understand?”
“He might try to do something.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Sergeant Herder got up and walked rapidly to the end of the room. He stood there for a moment, gazing at the wall. Then he came back slowly. “He might try to kill you,
Madelaine, the way he did Wilcox. That’s what he might try to do.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir, what?”
“He might try to kill me.”
“Fine. Just remember that. Just keep that in mind. So we’ve got to get him before he has the chance. And to get him, we have to know what he looks like. See?”
“I know what he looks like.”
“I know you do, but we don’t unless you tell us. Now what size man was he? Was he a big man or small?”
“Sort of middling.”
“What color hair did he have?”
“He had his hat on.”
“All right, what color hat was it?”
“Just a man’s hat.”
“Just a hat. Fine. Now Officer Donovan here is an artist. Madelaine. He draws pictures.”
“I know what an artist is.” she said with dignity.
“Sure you do. Now we’re getting somewhere. Officer Donovan is going to show you some outlines of faces, and I want you to tell him which one looks most like the man’s, the man we’re talking about, the man you saw. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Show her one with a hat. Donovan.”
She looked at the outline. “The hat was squashier.” she said.
“How about the outline of the face?”
“Yeah, that could be it.”
“Fine. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Just a minute.” said Donovan. He sketched rapidly and presented another outline to her, quite different from the first. “How about this one?”
“Yeah, that could be it.”
“Maybe you ought to try her on the mug shots again.” suggested Donovan.
Herder shook his head in total frustration.
“I’m sure she’d know him if she saw him. She just can’t describe him.”
“By now, I’m not sure she even saw him.”
“It was the same wav with the other one, the football player, but she picked his picture out of the bunch we handed her.”
“Yeah,” He turned back to the woman. “Now, Madelaine, I’m going to show you a bunch of pictures and you tell me if you see him. All right?”
“Sure, Sergeant, anything you say.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When the telephone rang, Mrs. Carter was sure it was Moose. But there was a strange voice at the other end.
“Mr. Carter, please.” it said.
“Mr. Carter isn’t in just now,” she replied. “Can I take a message?”
“This is the Barnard’s Crossing Police Department calling. Can you tell me where we can reach Mr. Carter? When do you expect him?”
“He went out right after supper.” she said. “Just a minute. I hear a car driving in. Maybe that’s him now. Hold the line a minute.”
She heard the door open and she called out, “Is that you, Raphael? You’re wanted on the telephone.”
He picked up the receiver. “Carter speaking.” he said.
“This is the Barnard’s Crossing Police Department. Lieutenant Jennings. Will you please wait for our
Sergeant Hanks. He’ll be right over.”
“Police Department? What’s this all about?”
“Sergeant Hanks will explain.” said the voice at the other end, followed by a click as Lieutenant Jennings hung up.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Damn funny, all your folks should be out for the evening,” said Chief Lanigan. “What time are they expected back?”
Stu shrugged.
Didi said, “All I know is I found a note on the kitchen table saying they were going to a movie. They didn’t say which one, but I know it wasn’t the Seaside in Barnard’s Crossing because they already saw that one. And then they might go on someplace for coffee.”
“Well. I’ll just have the sergeant keep calling every fifteen minutes or so until we get them. You kids wait right here and don’t try anything funny.”
And he left them sitting in his office, the two boys on a bench by the wall. Didi in an armchair near the window. She looked forlorn and puffy-eyed. The shock of hearing of the death of a boy she had seen only a few hours before, followed by her arrest, had unnerved her completely. She had control of her emotions now, however, and stared moodily out the window at the little grass plot in front of the station house.
Stu edged closer to Bill Jacobs and whispered. “You know. I don’t think they’re going to let us go without our folks coming down. Maybe I ought to tell them that they’re at my Aunt Edith’s, and that he can reach them there.”
“You already told them you didn’t know.” Bill whispered back.
“No, I didn’t. He asked us if we knew what time they are coming back, but he didn’t ask us where they were.”
“I think we should sit tight. Maybe when he calls and finds our folks are out, he’ll let us go.”
Stu sat back unhappy, his fingers drumming nervously on the arm of the bench. He edged forward again. “You know what. Bill? I think we ought to tell them about Moose—I mean, about how we found him.”
“Sure, why not? You’re in the clear.” said Bill bitterly. “It doesn’t matter to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, you weren’t in the house at all during the storm.
And he was dead already when you showed up. But where does that leave me and Didi?”
“But they’re going to find out sooner or later.”
“How are they going to find out? From what I overheard the cops talking, they think he just died from an overdose of alcohol.”
“Yeah, but that’s just the cops. Once a doctor examines the body, he’ll know he didn’t die that way. He’ll be able to tell whether a guy died of alcohol or from suffocation.”
“I don’t mean we shouldn’t tell them,” Bill temporized, “but I don’t think we have to tell them anything without a lawyer. And they can’t count it against us,” he said with an assurance he did not feel. “That’s the law.”
“Maybe you’re right. I wish my old man were here,” said Stu unhappily. “He’d raise hell with me for getting involved, but he’d know what to do. He’d see that the cops treated us fair. Say, who do you think could have done it?”
Bill shook his head. “I left the door unlatched. Anybody could have come in.”
“Hey, how about this Alan Jenkins? You all said Moose was leaning on him from the minute he laid eyes on him. These days they don’t take that lying down.”
“And he left Didi’s house in plenty of time to swing back there.”
“I know.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
What did you expect him to say, David? Mr. Wasserman is an old man; he’s practical. I know how you feel, but sometimes you have to compromise. You yourself have said that parnossah is necessary for a good life, that you can’t have a good life unless you’re making a living.” She had fussed over him like a mother hen, bringing him his slippers and pouring him a cup of hot tea liberally laced with whisky and lemon. “Drink it; it will ward off a cold.”