“Exactly. So Pat Grayson couldn’t have done it. Likewise, Carl Jenson figures out Claire Chesterton couldn’t have done it.” Steve grinned. “Of course, there we have a problem. Frankly, I can’t see Carl Jenson figuring anything out. But grant him the hypothetical power, the answer is yes.
“And Carl Jenson couldn’t do it, because he came last. If he did it, Claire Chesterton, who knew Walsh was alive when she left, would know it was him. So he couldn’t have done it.”
Steve spread his hands. “So there we are. Here the man lies dead. And none of the six of them could have killed him, because if they had someone would know it was them. And yet the man is dead and one of them did kill him, and no one has the faintest idea who it was.”
“Jesus Christ,” Taylor said.
“So whaddya think?” Steve said.
“Pretty neat,” Tracy said. “What do you think. Mark?”
Taylor frowned. He shook his head gloomily. “I think the son of a bitch better be alive.”
13
Jack Walsh took one last look around his hotel room. Had he forgotten anything? He couldn’t afford to do that now. Not with the buzzards on his trail. He patted his coat pocket. Yes, he had his wallet and his checkbook. He took them out and looked at them. Realized it was the second time he’d done that. Christ, was he getting senile? He chuckled to himself, shoved the wallet and checkbook back in his coat pocket.
He looked in the suitcase which was lying open on the bed. Was there anything else he’d need? No, of course not. He’d already checked that too. He shut the suitcase, locked it, stuck it back on the closet shelf. Humming softly, he looked around the room again. Anything else? No, just his room key which was lying on the night table. He picked it up and went out the door.
He took the elevator down to the lobby and dropped off his key at the front desk. Through the front window he spotted Carl Jenson hanging out on the sidewalk. He chuckled to himself. Jenson again. Easy pickings. Christ, almost too easy.
Walsh came out the front door and walked along 57th Street to the subway entrance. The whole time he never looked back once. He didn’t need to. He knew Carl Jenson would be there.
Jack Walsh went down in the subway, walked the long corridor to the token booth. Although he had money in his pockets, he ducked under the turnstile out of force of habit. Fuck the transit system.
He walked up the ramp to the Broadway downtown local. The platform was fairly crowded for that late in the morning, which meant a train must be almost due.
Walsh walked to the far uptown end of the platform. There were two bums hanging out in the corner, one lying in a blanket, the other sitting propped up against the wall. Walsh walked over, squatted down, talked to them.
A train pulled into the station. Walsh stood up, turned, faced the train.
But he didn’t get on. He just stood there, calmly, patiently waiting.
The doors closed, the train pulled out.
Jack Walsh sat down. He swung his legs over the edge of the platform. He hopped down onto the tracks.
His foot hit one of the ties and he pitched forward onto his hands and knees.
He wasn’t hurt. He stood up, dusted his hands off.
And walked into the tunnel.
14
Mark Taylor stuck his head in the door. “I got good news and bad news, Steve.”
“Oh?”
“My men called in. The good news is, Jack Walsh is very much alive.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He came out the front door grungy as ever and large as life about an hour ago.”
“So, what’s the bad news?”
Taylor sighed. “They lost him.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Was he wise?”
“Yes and no.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Taylor shrugged. “Well, I doubt if he spotted my men. But Carl Jenson was following him. I’m sure he was wise to him. Anyway, he ditched Jenson at the same time he ditched my men.”
“How’d he do it?”
“Easy as pie. He went down in a subway station, waited till a train came through, then hopped down on the tracks and walked into the tunnel.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Not at all. Very simple, but very effective. If you ever want to ditch someone, I highly recommend it.”
Steve grinned. “I’ll bet. So no one wanted to follow him?”
“They may not have wanted to, but they sure as hell did.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Jenson hesitates a moment, then he hops down and walks into the tunnel too.”
“And your men?”
“Went right in after him.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t know if you’re familiar with the underground in New York. My men sure as hell weren’t. But they sure got an education. It’s all connected down there. The subway system connects with the sewer system, which connects with abandoned unfinished tunnels, which connects with subbasements — it’s a whole goddamned labyrinth. I don’t want to bore you with details, but suffice it to say my men got hopelessly lost. They also got totally freaked out, and they both swear they’ll never do that again, even if it cost them their jobs.
“At any rate, they lost Walsh and they lost Jenson. And it’s a cinch Walsh lost Jenson too, if that’s what he was after. ’Cause apparently he knows his way around down there. After all he’s been living there for months.”
“Great,” Steve said. “So what are you doing now?”
“Well, I got one man staking out the hotel in case he comes back, and the other staking out the subway system in case he comes back the way he came in.” Taylor shrugged. “Figure that’s the best I can do.”
Steve grimaced, “Yeah, but it’s probably a lost hope. If he went to the trouble to ditch Jenson, he’s not gonna show up in any of the obvious places.” Steve thought a moment, then shook his head. “No, call your men in, Mark. I just wanted to see what Walsh was gonna do. Well, he’s done it. He’s called all the family members in for conferences, and now he’s gone back to the subway and ditched ‘em. That sounds to me like he’s checking out.”
Taylor nodded. “It does to me too.”
“Well, that’s that,” Steve said. “Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah.”
“Oh?”
“Julie Creston.”
“What about her?”
“I found her.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
Mark Taylor frowned and shook his head. “I’m embarrassed to tell you. And here I got men out scouring the country, looking for her under one alias or another. And look where she turns up.”
“Where?”
Taylor reached into his hip pocket, pulled out a rolled up copy of TV Guide, and flopped it on the desk. “There. In next Sunday’s Murder, She Wrote. Listed in the additional cast, playing a small but featured role under the same stage name you gave me. It seems when she left New York she moved out to L.A. and kept on working. That didn’t bother Walsh’s relatives none, ’cause they didn’t give a damn what she did as long as she wasn’t around him. So they weren’t gonna bother her. She moved out there, got a small flat in L.A. and she’s been working ever since. Nothing much, you understand, just enough to pay the rent. And even then, only with some waitressing on the side.”
“Well now that’s interesting,” Steve said. “Anyone talk to her?”
Taylor shook his head. “That’s what I wanna ask you. She’s not there. She’s on location. She landed a week’s work on a picture shooting in the mountains around Denver. So you want me to have someone track her down on the set or wait till she comes home?”
Steve waved his hand. “Shit, let it go. You track her down in Denver, it makes it too much of a big deal. She’s that much less willing to talk. Plus she’ll be flustered, what with people showing up on the set. It’s not urgent. You got her pegged, we can get her any time.”