“Just what was it you finally decided to tell me?”
“You know something,” I accused him.
“You’re damned right I know something. I would have been here sooner if I hadn’t been out of town. Horne, I’m not the blamed fool most people in this city take me for.
“I know which side my bread is buttered on. I know how I got into office and I know how I’ll get in next time unless I rub someone the wrong way — make them want to keep me out. But I’m not altogether a damned fool. And I’m peculiar enough to want to obey my oath of office.”
I started in cautiously, “Well, I got a few things I’d like to talk over with you. But I can’t tell you everything I’d like to tell you — it involves confidences.”
Thompson stared at me without moving.
“You think I’m a fool, too, don’t you? Don’t deny it. You can’t play poker. Your face gives you away.”
“But I tell you there are some professional confidences involved. I’m not in the habit of breaking promises.”
“Let it be for a moment. Let me tell you something first. Something that may help you to see your way clear to help me.
“Horne, despite what that crowd in the sheriff’s office may appear to believe, I don’t regard it as simply an ironic coincidence that Evans was killed by his own car.”
“You don’t?”
“Nor do I regard it as simply an ironic coincidence that a girl drove the car, and that Evans was known to have a mistress who now is missing.”
“Go on.”
“Nor do I regard it as simply an ironic coincidence that a dead Chinese girl is pulled out of the lake, and that a private detective attends the autopsy, and that the said private detective was temporarily in the employ of the late Harry Evans.”
“Mister,” I cut in, “you are getting warm.”
“I am warmer than that. I know that a certain gambler uses a supposedly abandoned bam on the outskirts of town as a place of amusement. I know that he is protected, and by whom. I know that I can’t and don’t dare touch him unless I have enough to explode his protection as well.”
“Do you... have enough, I mean?”
“No. Not quite enough. Not yet.”
“I haven’t either. I’m sorry I can’t help you, but that’s the truth.”
“I can wait.” He had the patience to wait a long time. “But there is more: I know that this gambler has been transporting his patrons to and from the place of amusement via private taxi system which, up until a couple of nights ago, was operated by one or more Chinese drivers. Girls.”
I cut in. “There were only two of them, I think. Sisters. And one sister — the one in the lake — was brand new at the job. It may have been her first or second trip.”
There was something behind his eyes that said he knew I had been keeping something from him, but he went on.
“I also know that since the body was found in the lake, the other Chinese girl (or girls, if there were more than one) has disappeared from the taxis.
“I know that a private detective has thoroughly checked into the pasts of his late employer, Harry W. Evans; of his late employer’s late mistress, a girl named Leonore; and his late employer’s very much present partner, a colorful gambler who calls himself Raymond A. Swisher.
“I know that the private detective has been rather indiscreet in his relations with someone in a position to do him harm, and as a result has lost his license for thirty days.”
“You know a lot,” I told him admiringly.
“I daresay,” he answered pointedly, “the private detective has found other interesting things of which I know nothing. I am hoping he’ll tell me.”
Well, why not, Louise? He had me squarely on the nailhead and he could bang down the hammer any time he chose. And he darned near knew as much about the whole business as I did. Probably more. It quickly occurred to me that the State’s Attorney was a good poker player. He hadn’t told me everything yet — he was holding the kicker until I laid down my hand.
I had an aching desire to find out what that kicker would be. So I began at the beginning, from the moment Harry Evans walked into my office looking like the uncle in Utah, and repeated the whole story. The whole and complete story, holding back nothing, and bringing him up to date as of the moment. I seem to be telling that story pretty often these past few days.
As I unfolded it to him I watched his face, hoping to see behind the poker mask. The mask failed to reveal how much of it was new to his ears. He just sat there, unmoving, not revealing anything until I had finished. And then he sighed.
“So you’re the man who cost Uncle Jack his job.” Uncle Jack was the colored porter at the City Hall, the man I used as a contact. “My one trustworthy man in the City Hall.”
“What! I didn’t know Uncle Jack was out.” I tried to sit up but he pushed me back.
Thompson nodded. “This morning. Somebody found liquor in his broom closet. He was fired for drinking on the job.”
“Uncle Jack doesn’t drink,” I said indignantly.
“I know that.” He raised his eyes to stare out the window. “But someone found out that you and I had been using him.”
“Of all the raw deals! I’ll get him another job.”
“I already have. It may have been my fault, not yours.” He lapsed into silence. I saw no reason to break it, and waited for the kicker I knew was coming.
After a while it came.
“What you’ve found out and what I’ve found out pretty well coincide. I merely duplicated your trail. Except of course for this or that little detail the other didn’t think of. I, for instance, didn’t think of the hobby angle. The Chicago kid who prints magazines.”
“You leading up to something?” I challenged him.
“Yes. Such as the water content in the dead girl’s stomach.”
I shot upright. My head spun and little colored specks swam before my eyes. Here was the kicker coming out of his sleeve.
“I had the contents analyzed,” he continued tonelessly. “She didn’t drown in the lake.”
“No?”
“No. It was chemically treated water such as comes from city taps. From Boone’s purification system.”
More later, Louise.
Chapter 16
Boone, Ill.
Sunday, A.M.
Louise, Dearest:
As I told you, Thompson spent a couple of hours with me Friday afternoon, and returned to the hospital again yesterday morning. Friday afternoon he was full of ideas and wanted to test them on someone. I had a few of my own and he promised to look into them.
His ace-in-the-hole had knocked the breath out of me. I fell back in bed, banging my head as I did so. If Leonore hadn’t drowned in the lake... then where?
I asked Thompson, “Say, just who do you trust around here?”
He held up one hand with five fingers spread.
“My wife,” he said. “She’s also my secretary. There is no one else around I can safely leave in charge of the office. Two, there’s Uncle Jack. Three, Mayor Yancey — he’s the opposition but he’s a good scout. Four, Doc Burbee, the coroner. He gets into office the same way I do. And...”
He paused. I fidgeted.
He finally added, “I guess you make the fifth.”
“Thanks.”
Hazel the starched nurse clattered in on her usual swift heels. She held a yellow envelope in her hand and paused to smile shyly at Thompson before giving it to me. I introduced them and demanded the telegram.