Выбрать главу

“Maybe you’d better just tell us what happened in your own words,” Hec said.

“Well, I was alone in the house, and the phone rang, and it was Beth. She asked me to meet her and say good-by, and I asked where. That was when she thought of Dreamer’s Park, and I agreed to go there to meet her.”

“What time was this?” Cotton said.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “As I explained, I’d been drinking gin. Pretty late, though. About nine thirty.”

“Go on, Gid,” Hec said.

“There isn’t much farther to go. Just across town to Dreamer’s Park. When I got there, I sat in the bandstand and waited for Beth, but she didn’t come. Finally I went home and went to bed, and the next day I heard she’d been murdered, and that’s all there is to it.”

“I’ve got a feeling,” Cotton said, “that there may be more.”

“Did you see anyone at all while you were in the park?” He said.

“No one,” I said, “except a few people, at a distance, passing along the streets. No one in the park itself.”

“That’s too bad. It would be helpful to you if we had someone else to suspect, but we don’t, and now we have the problem of what to do with you.”

“That’s no problem,” Cotton said.

“What’s your suggestion?” Hec said.

“What we have to do,” Cotton said, “is hold him on suspicion.”

“I guess that’s right,” Hec said. “I’m sorry, Gid, but I guess we have to hold you. You were there and all, and you didn’t tell about it, and that makes you suspicious at the very least.”

“I feel chosen,” I said. “May I go back to my office and tidy things up a bit?”

“I’m against it,” Cotton said. “You can’t let a murder suspect run around loose to do things like that.”

“By God, Cotton,” I said, “it’s impossible for me to tell you how much I admire your devotion to duty. Do you think it would be permissible to make a couple of telephone calls?”

“I can’t see any harm in a couple of telephone calls,” Hec said. “Can you, Cotton?”

“That depends on who he calls and what he says,” Cotton said.

“Who are you going to call, Gid?” Hec said.

“A couple of pretty seamy characters. Millie Morgan at the office and Sid Jones at home.”

“I can’t see any harm in calling Millie and Sid,” Hec said.

“Thanks. May I use your phone?”

“Sure. Go ahead and use it.”

I did, dialing the office number first, and Millie answered.

“Hello, Millie,” I said. “This is Gid.”

“Why are you calling? Why don’t you come back and tell me what Hec Caldwell wanted with you?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible at this time.”

“Will you be long? I can hardly wait to hear.”

“It appears at the moment that my absence may be prolonged. Cotton McBride, who is listening to this end of our conversation, is of the opinion that it may be permanent. In brief, I’ve been hauled into custody.”

“Are you serious?”

“Never more so.”

“Have you admitted anything? What are you suspected of?”

“I’m suspected of murdering Beth Thatcher.”

“You didn’t, did you?”

“I’m happy to say I didn’t.”

“I didn’t think you did, really.”

“It’s too bad that present company isn’t as easily convinced.”

“Cotton and Hec? Those two clunk-heads have absolutely no brain between them. Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe I could get that Hec Caldwell in a compromising position that would enable us to put some pressure on him.”

“Don’t bother, please. Just be a good girl and take care of things. Good-by, now.”

I hung up and took a deep breath and began to dial my home number. Hec Caldwell leaned back in his swivel chair and looked past me at Cotton McBride with an expression of complacency.

“You see, Cotton?” he said. “Nothing was said that could do the least harm.”

“Nothing harmful was said at this end of the line,” Cotton said, “but I’m not so sure about the other.”

“As a matter of fact,” I said, “our conversation was innocent at both ends. The only thing you might find objectionable was her calling you a pair of clunk-heads.”

“There you are,” Cotton said. “That’s a smart-aleck redhead if I ever saw one. She has no respect for anyone.”

“Why did she want to call us names like that?” Hec said. “That’s no way to talk about public officials.”

I had dialed, and the phone was ringing. It rang and rang and no one answered. I was just about to hang up, having decided that Sid had gone out somewhere, when all of a sudden she was on the line breathlessly.

“Hello, hello,” she said. “Who’s there?”

“Gid’s here,” I said.

“Sugar, is everything all right? Why did you call?”

“I called to tell you that I won’t be home for dinner tonight.”

“How exasperating! Why won’t you? Where will you be for dinner?”

“For dinner I’ll be in the county jail as the guest of Cotton McBride and Hector Caldwell.”

“Don’t be absurd. No one has dinner in the county jail.”

“Oh, yes, someone does. A number do, as a matter of fact. The prisoners, I mean.”

“What’s that? Prisoners? Are you sure you’re sober? I hope for your sake, as well as mine, that this isn’t the beginning of another Gimlet affair.”

“Not at all. Whatever they serve in the county jail, I’m sure they don’t serve Gimlets.”

“Tell me the meaning of this at once. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you. What I’m trying to say is that I’m being arrested on suspicion of the murder of Beth Thatcher.”

“Nonsense. How can you be arrested for killing someone you didn’t kill? Who’s arresting you? Is it that idiot Cotton McBride?”

“Cotton and Hec. It’s a co-operative job.”

“What I’d like to know is how the hell they can arrest you without any reason whatever.”

“They think they have one. Someone wrote a note and told them that I went to Dreamer’s Park the night Beth was killed.”

“Who wrote the note?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t signed.”

“Well, an unsigned note doesn’t prove anything. Any nut could write an unsigned note. Surely, after what I told you, you denied being there.”

“I didn’t, unfortunately. I admitted it.”

“Admitted it? Actually? Sugar, were you temporarily insane or something?”

“Hell, I can’t explain it. It just came out.”

“Well, the damage has been done now, and we’ll simply have to make the best of it. It’s perfectly clear to me that I must take a hand in this directly if anything sensible is ever to be done.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I’ll think of something.” She was silent for a few seconds, and when she spoke again her voice had receded and saddened. “I’ll have to think of something all the time to avoid thinking of you in jail. Sugar, I can’t bear to think of you in jail.”

“Sid, I’m sorry.”

“For what, sugar?”

“For everything.”

“Oh, no. Not for everything. In many respects you’ve been a superior and interesting husband, and I love you as much as ever and maybe more.”

“And I you and no maybe.”

“Sugar, I’m about to cry, and I don’t want to.”

“I’ve got to hang up now. Will you be all right out there in Hoolihan’s Addition all alone?”

“I don’t intend to be alone very long. And you tell that clunk-head McBride not to come sneaking around here picking my brains again if he doesn’t want to be shot as a trespasser. I’ll tell him myself if you’ll only put him on the phone.”