“That won’t be necessary at the moment,” Bendix cut in. “Just tell us about the crime first. We’ll have time to pick up the details later.”
“Oh, well, fine. I just thought — well, I put down my bag and—”
“Bag?”
“Yes. I carry a wrench and things in the bag.”
“What for?”
“To use as murder weapons,” smiled Pruyn, blinking. “I like to take them all along each time and use the one that fits.”
“How do you mean?”
“Fits the personality. I simply choose the weapon which is, in my opinion, best suited. Each person has a distinctive personality.”
“Then—” Bendix watched the little man’s eyes behind the heavy lenses, “—you’ve killed before?”
“Of course, Lieutenant. Five times prior to Mrs. Sloane. Five ladies.”
“And why have you waited to come to the police? Why haven’t you confessed before now?”
“Because I chose not to. Because my goal had not been reached.”
“Which was?”
“An even six. In the beginning I determined to kill exactly six women and then give myself up. Which I have done. Every man should have a goal in life. Mine was six murders.”
“I see. Well — to get back to Mrs. Sloane. What happened after she let you in?”
“I put down my bag and walked back to her.”
“Where was she?”
“In the middle of the room, watching me. Smiling. Very friendly. Asking me questions about how the converter worked. Not suspecting a thing. Not until...”
“Until what, Mr. Pruyn?”
“Until I wouldn’t answer her. I just stood there, in front of her, smiling, not saying a word.”
“What did she do?”
“Got nervous. Quit smiling. Asked me why I wasn’t working on the set. But, I didn’t say anything. I just watched the fear grow deep in her eyes.” The little man paused; he was sweating, breathing hard now. “Fear is a really wonderful thing to watch in the eyes of a woman, Lieutenant, a lovely thing to watch.”
“Go on.”
“When she reached a certain point, I knew she’d scream. So, before she did, I clapped one hand over her mouth and kicked her.”
Bendix drew in his breath sharply. “What did you say?”
“I said I kicked her — in the stomach — to knock the wind out of her. Then she couldn’t scream.”
Quickly Bendix stubbed out his cigarette. Maybe, he thought, maybe... “Then what, Mr. Pruyn?”
“Then I walked to the bag and selected the knife. Long blade. Good steel. Then I walked back to Mrs. Sloane and cut her throat. It was very satisfying. A goal reached and conquered.”
“Is that all?” Bendix asked.
Because if he tells me about twenty-one cuts, then he’s our boy, thought Bendix. The kick in the stomach could be, just could be, something he’d figured out for himself. But, if he tells me about the cuts...
“Oh, there’s more. I rolled her over and left my trademark.”
“What kind of trademark?”
The small man grinned shyly behind the thick glasses. “Like the Sign of the Saint — or the Mark of Zorro,” he said. “My initials. On her back. E.T.P. Emery T. Pruyn.”
Bendix eased back in his chair, sighed, and lit a new cigarette.
“Then I removed the ears.” He looked proud, “For my collection. I have six nice pairs now.”
“Wouldn’t have them with you, I don’t suppose?”
“Oh, no, Lieutenant. I keep them at home — in a box, a metal box in my antique rosewood dresser.”
“That’s it, eh?”
“Yes, yes, it is. After I removed the ears, I left and went home. That was three days ago. I arranged my affairs, put things in order, and came here to you. I’m ready for my cell.”
“No cell, Mr. Pruyn.”
“What do you mean, Lieutenant?” Emery Pruyn’s lower lip began to tremble. He stood up. “I... I don’t understand.”
“I mean you can go home now. Come back in the morning. Around eight. We’ll get the details then — the name of the clothing store and all. Then, we’ll see.”
“But, I... I—”
“Goodnight, Mr. Pruyn. Officer Barnhart will show you out.”
From the door of his office, Norman Bendix watched the two figures recede down the narrow hall.
An odd one, he thought, a real odd one.
He pulled the Ford out of the police parking lot and eased the car into the evening traffic.
So easy! So wonderfully satisfying and easy. Oh, the excitement of it — his sojourn into the Lion’s Den. Almost like the excitement with the knife. That bit about the kick in the stomach. Dangerous, but wonderful! He remembered the Lieutenant’s look when he’d mentioned the kick. Delicious!
Emery Pruyn smiled as he drove on. Much more excitement was ahead. Much more...