‘Bleatie went into the bathroom, took off his nose business, and became Morgan Birks. He went into 618 and waited until I’d served him. As soon as we went out of 618, he jumped off the bed, went back into the bathroom, changed the parting of his hair, changed back into his bloodstained clothes, had his nose guard taped back into place, and became Bleatie again. Then it was a cinch for him to add the finishing touch. Standing in the bathroom, he was able to impersonate Morgan Birks as calling from 618, and Bleatie as answering from the bathroom. Bleatie’s voice was distinguished from Morgan’s because it sounded as though Bleatie was talking with a clothespin over his nose. And that bandage business made a perfect disguise. In that way he was able to come to the hotel and leave it right under the noses of the gang that was looking for him. That’s the way he’s been able to dodge the police. He’s been at the place where they least expected him, living in his own apartment with his own little wife. She’s covering him up in order to get that divorce. That’s why he’s so sore at Holoman.’
‘Being sore at Holoman doesn’t fit in,’ she said. ‘The doctor must be in on it with him. He must be a confederate.’
‘Sure, he’s in with Birks, but only on this one play. Birks didn’t get Holoman. Sandra did. Holoman is Sandra’s friend. Morgan and Sandra came to a parting of the ways. Morgan told her about his mistress, and she admitted having a lover. They fixed up the divorce business. They needed a doctor to fix up the disguise. Sandra’s lover was called in.’
The taxi driver drew up in front of the Stillwater Apartments.
‘How much is the meter, Donald, darling?’ she asked.
‘Four dollars and fifteen cents.’
She handed the cab driver a five-dollar bill. ‘Give me seventy-five cents,’ she said, ‘and keep the rest.’ He gave her a fifty-cent piece and a quarter.
She turned to me. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘you’re a darling. You’re the fair-haired boy child. This job takes brains, and you’ve got them!’ She put her arm around my shoulders and said, ‘Donald, I could love you for this. You figured the thing out, and here is where Bertha Cool goes to town. I’ll make a cleanup on this, you darling! — and you owe ninety-five cents on this taxi meter, Donald. I’ll take it out of your salary.’
She stood on the sidewalk, fished a notebook out of her purse, and marked three dollars and thirty cents in her expense account under taxis. Then she turned the page, and marked down D. L., advance on taxi meter, ninety-five cents.
I said, ‘Thanks for your praise, Mrs. Cool. Some day I’ll try to think of an idea that will cost me an even dollar.’
She closed her notebook, dropped it into her purse, smiled at the cab driver, and said to me, ‘None of your lip; Donald.’ As soon as the cab driver had pulled away from the curb, she grabbed my arm and swung me around. ‘All right, Donald, darling, let’s go. We’ll cash in on this.’
‘Going to Sandra?’ I asked.
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘To Dr. Holoman. We’ll make him jump through hoops.’
Chapter 10
It was getting daylight. Somewhere over behind the wall of gray, toneless buildings was a streak of dawn-colored sky. Colorless gray light filtered into the street. Buildings seemed shadowy and unreal, but bulked high against the sky.
We walked three blocks before we found a cruising cab. While Bertha Cool was getting in, I said to the cab driver, ‘Get us to the nearest place where we can find a telephone directory.’
He tried to run us to the Union Depot, but Bertha Cool spotted an all night restaurant and said to me, ‘Slide back that glass, Donald, dear, and let me talk to that son of a bitch.’
I slid back the glass.
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ she asked the driver. ‘Turn around and go back to that restaurant. When I say the nearest phone, I mean the nearest.’
The driver mumbled something about having to watch for traffic and swung the car. Bertha said to me, ‘Look under the classified lists, Donald. Find a Holoman who’s a doctor. And remember this cab is costing me waiting tune — don’t take all day.’
‘I don’t think he’s a full-fledged doctor yet. He won’t have an office. I’ll have to call the hospitals. I’ll need some dimes.’
She sighed, dug four dimes out of her purse and said, ‘For God’s sake, Donald, get some action. I can’t charge this as an expense. This is a gamble. I’m using my money.’
I took the coins, went in and started calling hospitals. The second one was the Shelly Foundation Hospital. The girl said they had an Archie Holoman serving as an interne.
I thanked her, hung up and told the scowling taxi driver to take us to the Shelley Foundation Hospital and climbed back in beside Bertha Cool.
It was a short run, and the cab driver made it fast. Mrs. Cool said, ‘He probably isn’t on duty now, Donald. Get his home address — unless he happens to be living at the hospital. I’ll wait here.’
I ran up the marble stairs and into the hospital. It was rapidly growing lighter. The freshness of dawn in the air made the interior of the hospital seem steeped with the exudations of sickness and death. A tired-eyed nurse, sitting behind a desk, looked up at me. Daylight streaming through an easterly window, mingled with the lamp light on her face, made it gray and pasty.
‘A Dr. Archie Holoman has a position here as interne?’ I asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I want very much to see him, please.’
‘He’s on duty. Just a moment, I think I can get him on the telephone. What is your name, please?’
‘Lam,’ I said. ‘Donald Lam.’
‘Does he know you?’
‘Yes.’
The nurse went over and spoke to the switchboard operator. Then after a minute or two motioned to a phone booth, and said, ‘You can talk with him in there if you wish, Mr. Lam, or here at the desk.’
I choose the booth. I knew I had to be careful with my approach. I didn’t want him to think I was bluffing. I figured it would be best to let him know I was wise to the play all the way through.
‘Donald Lam, Doctor. I wanted to talk to you about exactly what happened when those papers were served on Mr. Birks this afternoon. And I wanted to check your diagnosis on a broken-nose case. I wonder if you’d mind coming down for a moment. Mrs. Cool is here in the cab.’
‘What’s the name?’ he asked.
‘Lam. Donald Lam. You know, the investigator.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t place you, Mr. Lam.’
I said patiently, ‘You remember when you were patching up Bleatie’s broken nose out at Sandra’s apartment?’
‘I’m quite certain you’re mistaken,’ he said. ‘You’ve confused me with someone else. I’m not practising as yet.’
So that was it. He was afraid to have the hospital know he’d been handling any medical work.
‘Pardon me,’ I said. ‘I guess I made a mistake there. However, Doctor, I’d like to talk with you for a moment. Is it possible for you to come down? We couldn’t talk here,’ I added hastily, as he hesitated. ‘Mrs. Cool’s outside in the taxicab. We could talk out there.’
‘I’ll come down,’ he said, ‘to find out what the devil this is all about.’
I thanked him, hung up the receiver, and walked out to stand in the lobby, looking through the plate glass windows into the freshness of early morning. After a few minutes, I heard the elevator descend and turned to greet Dr. Holoman. It wasn’t he. A young man stepped from the elevator, walked across to the nurse’s desk. I turned back to look out of the window. After a moment, I heard the sound of low-voiced conversation. The young man walked across to stand just behind me.