Tenth Commandment

'How do I know?' she said mistrustfully.

'I'll give you money,' I said. 'I'll leave fifty dollars with 410

you. When I return the licence, you return the money.'

'Money don't mean nothing,' she said. 'You got a pawn that means something to you?'

I looked down at myself.

'My wristwatch!' I said. 'My aunt and uncle gave it to me when I was graduated from school. It means a lot to me. But it's a cheap watch. Not worth even fifty dollars.'

'I'll take it,' she said. 'You bring the marriage licence back, or mail it back, and you gets your watch back.'

I agreed eagerly and slipped the expansion band off my wrist. She dropped the watch into one of her capacious pockets.

'You wait right here,' she commanded. 'Don't move a step.'

'I won't,' I said, and I didn't as I watched her climb the carpeted steps to the second floor. That was really a leviathan behind.

She came stepping down in a few minutes, carrying two folded documents. I took a quick look at them. A marriage licence issued to Sylvia Wiesenfeld and Godfrey Knurr by the State of Indiana, dated February 6th, 1959, and a letter from a Mexican attorney dated fourteen months later, informing Sylvia that a divorce had been granted to Knurr.

I refolded both documents, slid them into my inside jacket pocket.

'You'll get them back,' I promised once more.

'I got your watch,' she said, and then grinned again at me: that marvellous, warm, human smile of complicity.

'Thank you for all your help,' I said.

'I don't know why,' she said, 'but I trusts you. You play me false, don't never come back here again — I tear you apart.'

On the early evening New York-bound airliner, a Scotch-and-water in my hand, I relaxed gratefully. The seats on both sides of me were empty, and I could sprawl in

comfort. I emulated the passenger across the aisle and removed my shoes. I wiggled my stockinged toes, a pleasurable sensation at 33,000 feet, and planned the defeat of Godfrey Knurr.

It seemed to me that our original assessment of the situation had been correct; in the absence of adequate physical evidence the only hope of bringing the Kipper and Stonehouse cases to satisfactory solutions was to take advantage of the individual weaknesses of the guilty participants. If we had failed so far in trying to 'run a game' on them, it was because we did not have sufficient leverage to stir them, set one against the other, find the weakest link and twist that until it snapped.

By the time we started our descent for LaGuardia Airport in New York, I thought I had worked out a way in which it might be done. It would be a gamble, but not as dangerous as the risks Godfrey Knurr had run.

Also, it would require that I mislead several people, including Detective Percy Stilton.

I was sorry for that, but consoled myself by recalling that at our first meeting he had given me valuable tips on how to be a successful liar. Surely he could not object if I followed his advice.

I arrived home at my apartment in Chelsea shortly after 11.00 p.m. It looked good to me. I was desperately hungry, and longing for a hot shower. But first I wanted to contact Percy Stilton while my resolve was still hot. I had rehearsed my role shamelessly, and knew I must be definite, optimistic, enthusiastic, I must convince him, since as an officer of the law he could add the weight of his position to trickery that would surely flounder if I tried it by myself.

I called his office, but they told me he was not on duty. I then called his home. No answer. Finally I dialled the number of Maybell Hawks' apartment. She answered:

'Hello?'

'Miss Hawks?'

'Yes. Who is this?'

'Joshua Bigg.'

A short pause, then:

'Josh! So good to hear from you. How are you, babe?'

'Very well, thank you. And you?'

'Full of beans,' she said. 'Literally. We just finished a pot of chili. Perce said you went to Chicago. You calling from there?'

'No, I'm back in New York. Miss Hawks, I — '

'Belle,' she said.

'Belle, I apologize for calling at this hour, but I'm trying to locate Percy. Is he — '

'Sure,' she said breezily, 'his majesty is here. You got something to tell him about those cases?'

'I certainly do,' I said heartily.

'I'll put him on,' she said. 'Mind if I listen on the extension?'

'Not at all,' I said. 'It's good news.'

'Great,' she said. 'Just a m i n u t e. . '

There was a banging of phones, voices in the background, then Stilton came on the line.

'Josh?' he said. 'How are you doing?'

'Just fine. Sorry to disturb you.'

'I'm glad you did. Lousy dinner. Dull broad.'

'Up yours,' Maybelle Hawks said on the extension.

'Got some good news for you, Josh. They reopened the Kipper case. Your bosses swung some heavy clout.'

'Good,' I said happily. 'Glad to hear it. Now listen to what I've g o t. . '

I kept my report as short and succinct as I could. I told him Goldie Knurr really was Godfrey's sister. I gave a brief account of my meeting with Jesse Karp and what he had told me of the boyhood of Godfrey Knurr. I went into more detail in describing the interviews with the Reverend Ludwig Stokes and Sylvia Wiesenfeld. I told Stilton I had returned with the original marriage licence. I did not mention the letter from the Mexican attorney.

They didn't interrupt my report, except once when I was describing Knurr's physical abuse of Sylvia Wiesenfeld, which I exaggerated. Maybelle Hawks broke in with a furious 'That bastard!'

When I finished, I waited for Stilton's questions. They came rapidly.

'Let's take it from the top,' he said. 'This priest — he's how old?'

'About seventy-five. Around there.'

'And Knurr has been blackmailing him for twenty-five years?'

'About.'

'Why didn't he blow the whistle before this?'

'Personal shame. And what it would do to his church.'

'What did Knurr take him for?'

'I don't know the exact dollar amount. A lot of money.

Plus getting Knurr into the seminary. And performing the marriage ceremony, probably without the bride's father's knowledge.'

'And you say this Stokes is willing to bring charges now?'

'He says so. He says he's an old man and wants to make his peace with God.'

'Uh-huh. What kind of a guy is he? Got all his marbles?'

'Oh yes,' I said, and found myself crossing my fingers, a childish gesture. 'He's a dignified old gentleman, very scholarly, who lives alone and has plenty of time to think about his past life. He says he wants to atone for his sins.'

'He may get a chance. All right, now about the w i f e. .

The marriage licence is legit?'

'Absolutely.'

'No record of a divorce, legal separation — nothing like that?'

'She says no. She's living on a trust fund her father left 414

her. After the way Knurr treated her, she was glad to get rid of him and assume her maiden name.'

'He deserted her?'

'Right,' I said definitely. 'She was happy to find out where he is. I don't think it would take much to convince her to bring charges. The reasons are economic. That trust fund that seemed like a lot of money twenty years ago doesn't amount to much now. She's hurting.'

'And what kind of a woman is she? A whacko?'

'Oh no,' I protested. 'A very mature, intelligent woman.'

There was silence awhile. Then Detective Stilton said:

'What we've got are two out-of-state possibles. Charges would have to be brought in Indiana, then we have extradition. If that goes through, we've lost him on the homicides.'

'Correct,' I agreed. 'The blackmail and desertion charges are just small ammunition. But the big guns are that marriage licence — and his affair with Glynis Stonehouse.'