‘Who did you sell it to?’
‘A gentleman. He paid cash.’
‘Does that mean you don’t know his name?’
‘He was passing through. He said he was from Texas. Why should I need his name if he paid cash?’
‘Mr. Levine, suppose someone cut off the button and put it either on his jacket or among the duplicates you supply, would you know if the button was the original or the cut-off button?’
‘How would I know that? A button is a button.’
Lepski made a noise like a meat grinder hitting gristle.
‘What was that, Mr. Lepski?’ Levine asked, startled.
‘Okay. Okay. Thanks.’ and Lepski slammed down the receiver. He explained the situation to Jacoby.
‘Take Brandon’s jacket and the duplicate buttons to the lab boys,’ he said. ‘Ask them to see if the buttons all came from the same mould and at the same time.’
When Max had gone, Lepski sat at his desk, thinking, then he called Levine again.
‘Just another question, Mr. Levine. Did Mr. Ken Brandon visit your shop within the past two days?’
‘Mr. Brandon? No, I haven’t seen him for weeks. He is not one of my regular clients.’
Lepski sighed.
Well, he thought, at least it was a try. Thanking Levine, he hung up.
It wasn’t until 11.45 that Chief of Police Terrell returned to headquarters after a long session with the Mayor.
Beigler, Hess and Lepski joined him in his office.
‘Okay, Fred,’ Terrell said as he lit his pipe. ‘What have you got?’
‘The exact time when the killer cut off Boone’s head. As an alibi breaker, it is important, but that’s about it. The cabin is full of prints. We are checking each and every one... a big job. It would seem our nut is getting cute. It’s my guess, he stripped naked before he cut up Boone: so no blood stains on his clothing. From the look of the shower room, he washed off. There are traces of blood.
Then there are those two blackmail notes. They could give us the motive. Brandon, under pressure, could have decided to silence Boone.’
Terrell looked at Lepski who was sitting forward, bursting to talk.
‘What have you got, Tom?’
Lepski told about Levine’s telephone call and about the missing button.
‘Brandon could have slipped into the shop when Levine was busy and cut of the buttons. I’ve sent his jacket and the duplicate buttons to the lab.’
‘Now, I’ll tell you something,’ Terrell said. ‘Mayor Hedley wanted to know what we are doing and how far we have got. I told him about Karen Sternwood and Brandon.’ Terrell grimaced as he puffed at his pipe. ‘Hedley practically blew his top. His ruling is that unless we come up with irrefutable — repeat irrefutable — proof that Brandon is a nut, we lay off Brandon. Sternwood is backing a big city loan. If we stir up a scandal about his daughter, heads will fall... maybe, only one head... mine. So we don’t put pressure on Brandon unless we get irrefutable proof he is a nut.’
‘Brandon has a strong motive,’ Hess said.
‘You’re forgetting Pete Hamilton supplied the killer with a motive. He practically said that Boone had seen the killer. There’s a possible motive.’
‘Suppose the lab boys show one of the buttons of Brandon’s duplicate set is the cut-off button?’ Lepski said. ‘What then?’
‘What does it prove except that Brandon is desperately trying to cover up his affair with the Sternwood girl?’ Terrell said impatiently. ‘Before we go after Brandon, we have to have much more proof and we don’t go after him until we get that proof!’
Hess snorted.
‘So we are back to square A.’
‘No, we’re not. We haven’t traced Cyrus Gregg’s jacket,’ Terrell said. ‘Mrs. Gregg find her butler say the jacket was given to the Salvation Army. Craddock swears he never had the jacket. The two collectors don’t remember it, but that doesn’t mean one of them didn’t keep the jacket to give away, wear himself or sell.’ Terrell looked at Lepski. ‘Get Brandon’s jacket back from the lab and take it to Pete Hamilton. I want the jacket shown on television. I want real heat put on the jacket. Get it photographed and send copies to all the newspapers. It could turn up something.’
Lepski brightened. He would fix it with Hamilton that he would show the jacket on the T.V. screen. Carroll would love that! Boy! Would this make his neighbours talk! Detective 1st Grade Lepski on television!
Lieutenant Dave Willenski, in charge of the police laboratory, regarded Lepski with disapproval as Lepski skidded to a stop at his desk.
Willenski was growing old in the service of the police. Tall, thin, balding with bushy eyebrows and a drooping moustache, he was regarded as the best lab man on the Pacific coast.
‘The jacket Jacoby delivered,’ Lepski said briskly. ‘You finished with it?’
Willenski sat back in his chair.
‘The problem was the buttons... right?’
Lepski shifted impatiently from one foot to the other.
‘Yeah... yeah. Never mind the buttons right now. I want the jacket. I’m going on T.V. in an hour with it... so let’s have it!’
‘Jacoby asked me to see if one of the buttons was an odd man out,’ Willenski said with irritating calmness. ‘You know something, Lepski?’
Lepski did a double shuffle.
‘What?’
‘You guys at headquarters don’t use your eyes.’
Lepski made a noise like a cat being trodden on.
‘Never mind. Let’s have the jacket!’
‘You only use your legs,’ Willenski went on. ‘Now, if you had used your eyes, you would have seen all the buttons have serial numbers.’
Lepski stared.
‘Is that right?’
‘If you had looked closely at the buttons you would have saved me the waste of time to use my eyes.’
‘Sure... okay, so we don’t use our eyes. Let’s have the goddamn jacket!’
‘One of the buttons doesn’t belong to Brandon’s jacket or his duplicate set. I suggest you check the serial number of this odd button with the remaining buttons on Levine’s jacket.’
‘That could prove that Brandon or someone cut off the button and included it with Brandon duplicates... right?’
‘It could prove that, but you had better check Levine’s buttons.’
‘We’ll do that. Let’s have the jacket.’
Willenski smiled. His superior smile was the most irritating smile in the world.
‘But it won’t prove Brandon is your killer.’
Lepski clenched and unclenched his fists.
‘So?’
‘The button Hess gave me, found on the murder scene has a different serial number. It doesn’t match up with Brandon’s nor Levine’s buttons, so you will be wasting your time.’
‘So, okay, that’s what I’m paid for,’ Lepski said, thinking only of his appearance on the T.V. screen. ‘Time’s running out. Where’s the jacket?’
‘The trouble with you guys at headquarters,’ Willenski said, ‘is you are always after publicity. When I was a young cop...’
‘Yeah. I know: you and Sherlock Holmes. Where’s the goddamn jacket?’
Willenski sighed, got to his feet and went to a closet. He produced the jacket which Lepski snatched from him.
‘I’ll be back,’ Lepski said, and rushed out of the room. On his way down stairs, he came upon a telephone booth. He remembered he hadn’t alerted Carroll. Coming to a skidding stop, he called his home.
When Carroll came on the line, he said, ‘Honey! Pin your ears back...’
‘Is that you, Lepski?’
Lepski made a noise like a shotgun firing.
‘Who do you think it is... the goddamn milkman?’
‘Lepski! Stop swearing and stop making horrible noises! You nearly deafened me!’
‘Okay! Okay! Now, listen...’
‘You listen to me,’ Carroll said firmly. ‘What have you done about Mehitabel’s clues?’