‘Now then, sister, suppose you start talking.’
Sandra Birks stood very straight, very white, and very frightened.
Bertha Cool came out from Bleatie’s bedroom. The second plain-clothes man said to Sandra, ‘Who are these people?’
‘We’re detectives,’ Bertha Cool said.
‘You’re what?’
‘Detectives.’
The man laughed.
Bertha Cool said, ‘Private detectives, investigating this thing at Mrs. Birks’ request.’
‘Get out,’ the officer ordered.
Bertha Cool settled herself complacently in a chair. ‘Throw me out,’ she invited.
I glanced significantly at my hat and the newspaper package on the table. ‘I’ll leave,’ I said.
Bertha Cool caught my eye as I picked up my hat and the newspaper-wrapped package.
‘I’m within my rights,’ she said. ‘If you want to arrest Mrs. Birks, go ahead. If you want to talk with her, go ahead. But I’m here, and I’m going to stay here.’
‘You just think you’re going to stay here,’ the officer roared, pushing toward her belligerently.
Sandra Birks silently held the door open for me. As the two officers converged on Bertha Cool, I slipped out into the corridor. I didn’t dare wait for the elevator. I sprinted for the stairs, and went down them two at a time. I slowed down halfway down the last flight, walked casually across the lobby as though I had a bundle of laundry with me, and gained the sidewalk. The police car was parked in front of the place.
An attendant was commencing to move automobiles out of the apartment house garage and park them at the curb. I picked a prosperous-looking machine on the theory that the owner would be sleeping late, climbed in and sat down, leaving the package on the seat beside me.
Bertha Cool came marching majestically out of the apartment house, looked up and down the street, and then started toward the corner. She didn’t see me in the automobile as she walked past. I let her go. After she’d walked another fifty feet I could pick her up in the rear-view mirror of the automobile. Apparently she was puzzled by my complete disappearance. She stopped twice before she got to the corner, looking around inquiringly. At the corner, she turned left. I couldn’t tell whether she had headed for the better-traveled streets, looking for a taxicab, or whether she was still looking for me. I didn’t dare to turn around. I kept slouched in the seat, glancing in the rear-view mirror occasionally, but keeping my attention focused on the entrance of the apartment house.
After a while the two plain-clothes officers came out. Sandra Birks wasn’t with them. They stood for a moment talking. Then they got in the car and drove away.
I picked up my newspaper package, slid out of the automobile, and walked rapidly toward the apartment house. A big refuse can had been dragged out by the janitor and was placed near the curb. I opened the lid and dropped my package into the can, replaced the lid, and went directly to Sandra Birks’ apartment. She didn’t open the door until I’d knocked twice. She hadn’t been crying, but her eyes were dark and her cheeks seemed to be all caved in. Her mouth looked drawn and hard. She said, ‘You!’
I slipped in through the door, closed it behind me and snapped the bolt.
‘The package,’ she asked. ‘How about it? Did you get rid of it?’
I nodded.
She said, ‘You shouldn’t have come back here.’
‘I had to talk with you,’ I said.
She put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Oh, I’m so frightened,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it means. Do you suppose that Morgan — that Alma—’
I slipped my arm around her waist and said, ‘Take it easy, Sandra.’
That arm seemed to be the signal she was waiting for. She insinuated her body up close to mine. Her eyes looked into mine. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘you must help me.’
And then she kissed me.
She may have had other things on her mind. Probably there was plenty to worry her, but it didn’t interfere with that kiss. There was nothing sisterly or platonic about it.
After a moment she held her head back so she could look into my eyes. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘I’m depending on you.’ Then before I had a chance to say anything, she said, ‘Oh, Donald, you’re such a dear. It’s such a comfort to me, knowing that I have you to depend on.’
‘Hadn’t we,’ I suggested, ‘better get my mind on our work?’
‘Oh, Donald, you will help me, won’t you?’
‘What do you suppose I came back for?’ I asked.
She was smoothing my hair back with the tips of her fingers. ‘I feel so much better already,’ she said. ‘I feel that I can trust you, Donald. I’ve felt that way from the first. I’d do anything for you, Donald. There’s something about you that—’
‘I want some money,’ I said.
She stopped. ‘You want what?’
‘Money.’
‘What do you mean money?’
‘Currency,’ I said. ‘Lots of it.’
‘Why Donald, I gave Mrs. Cool a retainer.’
‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘Mrs. Cool hasn’t joined any of the Share-the-Wealth movements— At any rate, not as we go to press.’
‘But you’re working for her, aren’t you?’
‘I thought you wanted me to work for you,’ I said. ‘Perhaps I misunderstood you.’
‘But, Donald, she’s working for me, and you’re working for her.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Have it your own way.’
She slowly pushed herself back so that the warmth of her body was no longer perceptible through my clothes. ‘Donald,’ she said, ‘I don’t understand you.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I thought perhaps you would. It’s my mistake. I’ll go hunt up Bertha Cool.’
‘How much money would you want?’ she asked.
‘Lots of it.’
‘How much?’
‘When you hear how much,’ I said, ‘it’s going to knock the props out from under you.’
‘But why do you want it?’
‘For expenses.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to take the rap,’ I said.
‘Donald, tell me what you mean.’
I said, ‘Bertha Cool’s got funny ideas. She thinks she can use Bleatie as a red herring and blame this on him simply because Bleatie can’t be found. She might have done just that if it had been a simple bedroom killing. The way the cards stack up now, it can’t be done. A Kansas City police officer was killed. You know how cops feel about people who shoot police officers. They don’t like it.’
‘What do you mean, you’re going to take the rap, Donald?’ she asked, her eyes shrewd and calculating as she searched my face.
‘I mean I’m going the whole hog,’ I said. ‘I’m going to give you both an out. I’m going to say I shot him, but I’ve got to do it in my way.’
‘But, Donald, they’ll hang you,’ she said.
‘They won’t hang me.’
‘But, Donald, you can’t. You wouldn’t be willing to. You couldn’t be—’
‘We can either waste time arguing about it,’ I said, ‘or we can do something about it. Those cops didn’t take you into custody because they decided they didn’t have enough on you; and a smart lawyer could get you loose. So they figured they’d give you plenty of rope and see just how you’d go about hanging yourself. They also wanted to see what other fish would get drawn into the net. As soon as they get back and report to police headquarters they’ll have this apartment sewed up so tight not even a cockroach could get out without being picked up and shadowed and classified. Do you want to wait for that?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘I don’t either. I want to get out before that happens. That means just about now.’
I started for the door. ‘How much do you want, Donald?’