“Pretty rotten, that.”
“Oh, it’s what you’d expect from these religious types. Well, now, that night Carter wasn’t home. When we called, he was just coming in.”
“I suppose it might be worthwhile knowing where he was,” Lanigan admitted with no great interest. “Anyone else?”
“There’s the colored fellow, of course.”
“Well, naturally. He’s probably the one. Still, no harm in checking over the possibles.”
Chapter Forty-Three
The manager of the Lynn alleys greeted Paff with, “Tough about the kid, huh?”
Paff shook his head regretfully. “It certainly is. A young fellow like that, a good-looking boy, an athlete—”
“You know. I called his house like you told me, to see why he hadn’t showed, and I spoke to his Ma. When I think that he was probably dead at the time—you know, it kind of gives you the shivers—I mean asking her what time she expects him back and all.”
“Yeah.”
“You got somebody else lined up to take his place, Mr. Paff? Because life got to go on, like they say, and I don’t mind working overtime a couple of nights to help you out, but—”
“I’ll get somebody to relieve you—tomorrow night for sure.”
“If you’re having trouble getting somebody, there’s this kid that lives right next door to me. He’s smart, knows how to handle himself.”
“Yeah? What’s he doing now?”
“Well, right now, he’s not doing much of anything, just sort of looking around.”
“Well—”
“I could have him come down tomorrow evening, and you could talk to him.”
“Right now. I’ve got things pretty well lined up.”
A customer tapped impatiently on the counter with a coin, and the manager hurried over to wait on him. As he came back he fished in his pocket and brought forth a bit of paper. “Say, I almost forgot. Did a Mr. Kallen get in touch with you the other night? He called right after you left. He said he was supposed to meet you”—he referred to the paper—“at Hillson House. He said he wouldn’t be able to make it. Say, wasn’t that the place that—”
“Yeah. I spoke to him. Look, er—” he nodded him down to the other end of the counter. “The other night I was kind of upset. I had a tough day, understand?”
“Sure Mr. Paff We all have them.”
“Well, in case anybody comes down to make inquiries—not likely to, you understand, but just in case—I’d rather you wouldn’t mention I was planning to fire the kid. They might get the wrong impression.” He laughed—a deep bass burble. “Hell. I wouldn’t have fired him, not a kid from my hometown.”
“Sure, Mr. Paff. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“I want you to cooperate with them, understand? Tell them everything, but there’s no need to tell them anything unimportant. Now if they should ask when I left here, you remember it was sometime after eight o’clock—”
“Oh, No, Mr. Paff, it was quite a bit before—”
“No. it was after, almost quarter past. This friend of yours—you think he’d work out?”
“Oh, he’s smart, Mr. Paff.”
“All right, I guess you’re a pretty good judge of character.
Tell him to come down tomorrow night, and I’ll put him on.”
“Gee, thanks, Mr. Paff. You leave him to me, and I’ll show him the ropes. You won’t be sorry.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Chief Lanigan knew that the youngsters in his living room were there by coercion and that if he tried to appear friendly, they would only mistrust him more. So he tried candor.
“I won’t ask you to make yourselves comfortable because I know you can’t until this business is cleared up. That would be asking a lot. But there’s coffee here and some cookies and for those who want something cold, Coke. Help yourselves.”
“I’ll have a cup of coffee,” said Adam Sussman.
“So will I,” said Bill Jacobs.
“I’d like a Coke, please,” said Betty Marks.
Chief Lanigan, with the rabbi helping, passed out drinks and cookies. Then, when they were settled, he began again. “All of you participated in a cookout on the beach at Tarlow’s Point last Monday evening—”
“Just a minute,” said Jacobs. “There was someone else,”
“You’re referring to Adam Jenkins?”
“That’s right.”
“I asked the Boston police to contact him for us. He lives in a boarding house, and his landlady said he had gone off to New York. We have also contacted the New York police and asked them to look him up for us. In the meantime I’m afraid we’ll have to do without him. Now, sometime during the evening you were joined by Moose Carter. And a little while later Gorfinkle here had to leave to pick up his folks, thus leaving you without transportation when the storm started. You ran for cover to Hillson House, forced a window, and took shelter inside.”
“Just a minute,” said Adam Sussman. “I’m not admitting anything.”
Lanigan sighed. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sussman: I’m not trying to trap you. Everything I have said and everything I’m going to say I can prove easily. I’m just trying to find out what happened. The point I was trying to make is that you were all guilty of breaking and entering. Under the circumstances your behavior has some justification. That was a pretty frightening storm. What’s more, it seems that you did nothing but take shelter. There is no evidence of vandalism, and as far as we can make out, nothing was taken. But it was breaking and entering, and I can hold you for it.” He looked around at them pointedly.
“That’s blackmail isn’t it?” said Jacobs. “Yes.” said Lanigan pleasantly. “So what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start from the beginning.”
“All right, so you. Jacobs, and Sussman marched him into the study/ said Lanigan. “Just a minute.” He went to the hall closet and came back with a package. “I stopped off at the hardware store earlier and got one of those plastic drop cloths. It’s just about the size of the plastic dust cover in the study at Hillson House.” He unfolded it and spread it on the floor. “Now. Gorfinkle, suppose you lie down on that, and Jacobs can show us how he wrapped Moose.”
Stu lay down on the sheet as everyone craned forward to watch. But Bill Jacobs shook his head. “The sheet was draped sort of catty-cornered on the couch, so that Moose was lying on the diagonal. Move your carcass around. Stu. That’s right.” Suiting the action to the words he proceeded to demonstrate. “First, we picked up this corner and covered his feet. Then we picked up this corner and wrapped it tight around his body and kind of tucked it in. Then we picked up the opposite corner and wrapped it over that and tucked it under him, like this.”
“And was anything said at the time, or had Moose passed out?”
“No, he was swearing, mostly at Jenkins.”
“And Jenkins, did he say anything?”
“Not that I remember, except when we finished wrapping him up and he fell asleep. Jenkins said—but it was just in time—”
“What did he say?”
“Oh, something about we ought to put it over his flippin head.” And then Jacobs added quickly, “But he was just joking.”
“Of course.” said Lanigan easily. “Now, when you came back to Hillson House, how did you find Moose? Any change in the way he was wrapped?”
“Well, this top corner had been pulled over and tucked in where the folds of the plastic met.”
“Show me.”
“Hey!” from Stu.
“Don’t worry, Gorfinkle, we won’t leave you there,” Lanigan reassured him.
Bill Jacobs lifted the upper corner of the sheet and folded it over Stu’s head and tucked it in.