“Yeah. You should be more careful.”
“So the arrangement has been made. You are to be at twenty-nine Arbor Street, with the dog, at nine o’clock in the morning. You are to be present throughout the fatuous performance the police have in mind, and keep the dog in view. The dog is to leave the premises with you, before noon, and you are to bring him back here. The police are to make no further effort to constrain the dog for twenty-four hours. While in that house you may find an opportunity to flush something or someone more contributive than that volatile demirep. If you will come to my room before you go in the morning I may have a suggestion.”
“I resent that,” I said manfully. “When you call her that, smile.”
IV
IT WAS A FINE bright morning. I didn’t take Meegan’s raincoat, because I didn’t need any pretext and I doubted if the program would offer a likely occasion for the exchange.
The law was there in front, waiting for me. The one who knew dogs was a stocky middle-aged guy who wore rimless glasses. Before he touched the dog he asked me the name, and I told him Bootsy.
“A hell of a name,” he observed. “Also that’s a hell of a leash you’ve got.”
“I agree. His was on the corpse, so I suppose it’s in the lab.” I handed him my end of the heavy cord. “If he bites you it’s not on me.”
“He won’t bite me. Would you, Bootsy?” He squatted before the dog and started to get acquainted. Sergeant Purley Stebbins growled, a foot from my ear, “He should have bit you when you kidnapped him.”
I turned. Purley was half an inch taller than me and two inches broader. “You’ve got it twisted,” I told him. “It’s women that bite me. I’ve often wondered what would bite you.”
We continued exchanging pleasantries while the dog man, whose name was Loftus, made friends with Bootsy. It wasn’t long before he announced that he was ready to proceed. He was frowning. “In a way,” he said, “it would be better to keep him on leash after I go in, because Kampf probably did. Or did he? Maybe you ought to brief me a little more. How much do we know?”
“To swear to,” Purley told him, “damn little. But putting it all together from what we’ve collected, this is how it looks, and I’ll have to be shown different. When Kampf and the dog entered it was raining and the dog was wet. Kampf left the dog in the ground-floor hall. He removed the leash and had it in his hand when he went to the door of one of the apartments. The tenant of the apartment let him in, and they talked. The tenant socked him, probably from behind without warning, and used the leash to finish him. He stuffed the leash in the pocket of the raincoat. It took nerve and muscle both to carry the body out and down the stairs to the lower hall, but he damn well had to get it out of his place and away from his door, and any of those four could have done it in a pinch, and it sure was a pinch. Of course the dog was already outside, out on the sidewalk. While Kampf was in one of the apartments getting killed, Talento had come into the lower hall and seen the dog and chased it out.”
“Then,” Loftus objected, “Talento’s clean.”
“No. Nobody’s clean. If it was Talento, after he killed Kampf he went out to the hall and put the dog out in the vestibule, went back in his apartment and carried the body out and dumped it at the foot of the stairs, and then left the house, chasing the dog on out to the sidewalk. You’re the dog expert. Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Not necessarily. It depends on the dog and how close he was to Kampf. There wasn’t any blood.”
“Then that’s how I’m buying it. If you want it filled in you can spend the rest of the day with the reports of the other experts and the statements of the tenants.”
“Some other day. That’ll do for now. You’re going in first?”
“Yeah. Come on, Goodwin.”
Purley started for the door, but I objected. “I’m staying with the dog.”
“For God’s sake. Then keep behind Loftus.”
I changed my mind. It would be interesting to watch the experiment, and from behind Loftus the view wouldn’t be good. So I went into the vestibule with Purley. The inner door was opened by a Homicide colleague, and we crossed the threshold and moved to the far side of the small lobby, which was fairly clean but not ornate. The colleague closed the door and stayed there. In a minute he pulled it open again, and Loftus and the dog entered. Two steps in, Loftus stopped, and so did the dog. No one spoke. The leash hung limp. Bootsy looked around at Loftus. Loftus bent over and untied the cord from the collar, and held it up to show Bootsy he was free. Bootsy came over to me and stood, his head up, wagging his tail.
“Nuts,” Purley said, disgusted.
“You know what I really expected,” Loftus said. “I never thought he’d show us where Kampf took him when they entered yesterday, but I did think he’d go to the foot of the stairs, where the body was found, and I thought he might go on to where the body came from -Talento’s door, or upstairs. Take him by the collar, Goodwin, and ease him over to the foot of the stairs.”
I obliged. He came without urging, but gave no sign that the spot held any special interest for him. We all stood and watched him. He opened his mouth wide to yawn.
“Fine,” Purley rumbled. “Just fine. You might as well go on with it.”
Loftus came and fastened the leash to the collar, led Bootsy across the lobby to a door, and knocked. In a moment the door opened, and there was Victor Talento in a fancy rainbow dressing gown.
“Hello, Bootsy,” he said, and reached down to pat.
“Goddamit!” Purley barked. “I told you not to speak!”
Talento straightened up. “So you did.” He was apologetic. “I’m sorry, I forgot. Do you want to try it again?”
“No. That’s all.”
Talento backed in and closed the door.
“You must realize,” Loftus told Purley, “that a Labrador can’t be expected to go for a man’s throat. They’re not that kind of dog. The most you could expect would be an attitude, or possibly a growl.”
“You can have ‘em,” Purley growled. “Is it worth going on?”
“By all means. You’d better go first.”
Purley headed for me, and I gave him room and then followed him up the stairs. The upper hall was narrow and not very light, with a door at the rear end and another toward the front. We backed up against the wall opposite the front door to leave enough space for Loftus and Bootsy. They came, Bootsy tagging, and Loftus knocked. Ten seconds passed before footsteps sounded, and then the door was opened by the specimen who had dashed out of Wolfe’s place the day before and taken my coat with him. He was in his shirt sleeves, and he hadn’t combed his hair.
“This is Sergeant Loftus, Mr. Meegan,” Purley said. “Take a look at the dog. Have you ever seen it before? Pat it.”
Meegan snorted. “Pat it yourself. Go to hell.”
“Have you ever seen it before?”
“No.”
“Okay, thanks. Come on, Loftus.”
As we started up the next flight the door slammed behind us, good and loud. Purley asked over his shoulder, “Well?”
“He didn’t like him,” Loftus replied from the rear, “but there are lots of people lots of dogs don’t like.”