They went inside the four-story building and learned from the directory that Weems's office was on the fourth floor. In fact, it was the only occupied office on that floor, and one of only four occupied offices in the entire building.
In the absence of an elevator, they began to climb the stairs, which seemed to be more a popular location for excretory functions than anything else. In fact, on the second landing they came across a man who was relieving his bladder in a corner, and Remo asked apprehensively, "You wouldn't be Harvey Weems, the attorney, would you?"
"Shit, no," the man said, shaking off the last few drops and tucking himself away, "I'm Blackie Danelo, the brain surgeon." Giving Remo a disgusted look and Chiun a look of disbelief, the brain surgeon walked past them, descended to the first level, and exited to the street.
Chiun gave Remo a glare that could charbroil a hamburger and preceded him up the remainder of the steps to the fourth level.
"I just asked," Remo said, following.
They scanned the doors on the fourth floor and finally found the one that read HARVEY WEEMS, AT OR EY-AT-AW.
"This is it," Remo said. "At-or-ey at-aw."
When Chiun did not even reply with a glare, Remo knocked on the door. When there was no immediate reply, he knocked a second time.
"Try the doorknob," Chiun suggested as if talking to a child.
"I was about to."
Remo reached for the doorknob and found that it turned freely. He pushed the door open and peered inside the dark office.
"Light," Chiun said.
"Don't you just hate it when someone keeps telling you to do something a split second before you're about to do it anyway?" Remo asked nobody in particular. He flicked on the light and stepped into the room, which turned out to be an outer office with no windows. Across from them was another door, which presumably led to the at-or-ey's office.
"Let's see if he's in there," Remo said.
"Someone is," Chiun said.
"Oh?"
"You do not smell it?"
Remo stopped and sniffed the air, and damned if he didn't smell it. Blood, sharp and acrid, accompanied by the odor of death. Somebody was in there, all right, and whoever it was wasn't about to open the door for them— or anybody.
He walked across the room and opened the door. The room was dimly lit by a shaft of light coming through the lone window. He switched on the light, knowing what he would find.
There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the desk, the window. The body was not immediately noticeable, which meant it had to be behind the desk.
Three long strides across the room confirmed his guess.
"Whew" he said, "looks like the blade men got here ahead of us."
Chiun came over to examine the body, which had been hacked almost to pieces.
"Weems," he said.
"Maybe," Remo said. "Are you assuming?"
"I do not assume," Chiun said stiffly, "I employ logic. This is Weems's office, Weems's desk—"
"And that makes it Weems? That's logic."
Chiun closed his eyes and continued. "This man has his jacket and shoes off. The jacket is on the back of the desk chair, and the shoes are underneath the desk. Who else would make himself that comfortable?"
Remo shrugged and said, "Maybe you're right."
"Get his wallet."
Remo checked the jacket on the back of the chair, and when that did not yield a wallet, he checked the dead man's pants, coming up with a faded brown leather billfold.
"Driver's license," he said, extracting same from the wallet. Reading the name on the license aloud, he said, "Harvey Weems." He put the license away, replaced the wallet, and said, "And I'm Dr. Watson."
"This man cannot help us."
"Good observation."
"We must, however, determine why he was killed."
"I'll bite. Why was he killed?"
"He knew something."
"Ah."
Chiun looked at the top of the desk and noticed a pad with some writing on it. A large dollar figure inside a heart, and a smaller figure next to it. Also the words "phone" and "man's voice" scribbled on the pad.
"There," Chiun said, pointing.
Remo looked at the pad and said, "The larger figure is the amount of the bail."
"And the smaller?"
"Ten percent," Remo said. "Probably his fee for posting the bail."
"And the words?"
Remo read them, then said, "He got his instructions from a man's voice over the phone. This guy didn't know who went for the bail."
"Perhaps he did," Chiun said, "and he was not supposed to."
"And that's why he was killed?"
"A possibility."
"A good one," Remo admitted grudgingly. "You may out-Holmes Holmes yet, Chiun."
"I do not know this Holmes you refer to, but that is no matter. It is a reasonable assumption that this man discovered who had supplied the bail, and either that information or what he tried to do with it got him killed."
"Blackmail?"
"A possibility."
"Then whoever killed the kid killed him as well," Remo said, quickly adding, "I'm not assuming, mind you."
"No, simply stating another possibility," Chiun said.
"Right," Remo said. "I guess we might as well take a look around… see if we can find anything helpful."
Remo started going through the dead man's desk while Chiun simply strolled about the room, looking at nothing but seeing everything.
Remo finally found something useful in the top drawer of a file cabinet, the only drawer that wasn't empty.
"This guy wasn't exactly overburdened with cases," he said, pulling out the case files. Sifting through them, he came up with one on Billy Martin.
"A file," he said.
"Containing what?"
He opened it and found some newspaper clippings and one sheet of paper. On the paper was what appeared to be the kid's home address.
"This must be the scene of the crime," Remo said, holding the paper up.
"The child's address," Chiun said. Every time he called the Martin kid a "child," Remo actually winced.
"Yeah, the kid's address," he said, dropping the folder on the desk. "I guess we'd better try there next."
He closed the folder and then replaced it in the drawer.
"After we leave, I'll find a pay phone…." Remo started to say, but then he had second thoughts.
"Yes?" Chiun asked, giving him an arched eyebrow.
"If we call the cops, they'll be looking for us because Palmer knows we came here. We'll have to avoid that as long as possible."
"We will go directly to the child's house," Chiun said. "Perhaps there we can find something that will help me avenge his untimely death and prevent the deaths of other children."
Remo didn't quite agree with Chiun's reasoning, but at least they agreed on what their next move should be.
CHAPTER FOUR
Using a map supplied by the rental agency, Remo finally located the neighborhood where the kid's house was. Remo was surprised because he was expecting a slum. What he found was a better-than-middle-class section of town and a nice, neat, expensive house with an equally expensive car in the driveway.
"Not what I expected," he said, stopping the car behind the expensive model.
"Do not expect anything, and you will never be disappointed," Chiun said.
"Right," Remo said. "Let's take a look."
As they started up the walk of the house, a neighbor came out of the house next door and stared at them. The neighbor was a small man with a hangdog look on his face, who looked to be in his mid-fifties. Remo just knew that there was an overbearing, money-grubbing wife in the house somewhere.
"Hello," Remo said.
"Hello. If you're looking for the people who live in that house, you're not going to find them."
At least we don't have to try and get him to talk, Remo thought.
"Oh? Why is that?"
"They're dead."
"Dead? How did that happen?"