‘Nowhere!’ Lepski said in disgust. ‘Nothing! I had promised Carroll a celebration dinner. Who the hell would be a cop?’
‘Tom,’ Jacoby said, ‘I’ve been thinking. Look, we have been chasing four blue jackets with golf ball buttons. We found three of the owners with alibis. So we are chasing the fourth... right?’
‘That doesn’t need a fat lot of thought,’ Lepski mumbled, through a mouthful of corn beef. ‘Jesus! This muck isn’t fit to feed a dog!’
‘The fourth jacket was owned by Cyrus Gregg,’ Jacoby went on. ‘His wife says it was given to the Salvation Army who know nothing about it. Here’s my thought: suppose Mrs. Gregg is lying?’
With his fork loaded with corn beef, Lepski gaped at him.
‘Why should she lie for God’s sake?’
‘Here’s something I didn’t put in my report, now I keep wondering. When I talked to Levine, checking on what happened to Gregg’s clothing, he had no useful information, but he did yak about the Gregg family. Right then, I was only interested in the jacket, but I’ve been thinking about what he said, and I think I’ve missed out.’
Lepski chewed meat that was mainly gristle.
‘So what about the family?’
‘There’s a son. According to Levine, Mrs. Gregg transferred her affection to the son, and old man Gregg was left in the wilderness. I asked what the son did, but Levine didn’t know nor has he ever seen him.’ Jacoby paused, looking at Lepski. ‘As far as I know, we don’t know anything about him either.’
‘Make your point, Max,’ Lepski said, laying down his knife and fork and sitting forward. ‘You have just said Mrs. Gregg could be lying.’
‘Suppose her son is the killer? Suppose he wore his father’s jacket when he killed Janie Bandler? Wouldn’t his mother cover up for him?’
Lepski lit a cigarette while he thought.
‘You could have something, Max,’ he said finally. ‘This could certainly take care of the missing jacket. Yeah. If the description we now have fits Gregg’s son, we certainly have something.’
‘The trouble here is Mrs. Gregg,’ Jacoby pointed out. ‘She has the ear of the mayor.’
Lepski thought some more, then got to his feet.
‘Say nothing to nobody, Max. I’ll handle this.’
Jacoby sighed.
‘I was thinking maybe I could get the reward, Tom.’
Lepski gaped at him.
‘You? Get the reward? You tell me whenever any cop got any reward.’
‘Just a thought,’ Jacoby shrugged. ‘What do we do? Tell the Chief?’
‘Not yet. I’ll do something. Come on, let’s get back.’
As they left the restaurant, Lepski patted Jacoby on his broad back.
‘One of these days, Max, you’re going to make a great cop — like me.’ Then seeing a telephone booth, he went on, ‘Hold it! I better have a word with Carroll. Boy! Is she going to be sore!’
Jacoby waited patiently. Finally, Lepski came out of the booth, beaming.
‘You know something, Max? She took it like a soldier. No problems. She’s going to wait. How many wives would do that?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ Jacoby said. ‘I’m not married.’
When Crispin had left her, Amelia sat, staring blankly at the opposite wall. While she stared, she wrestled with her conscience. She knew she should telephone the police and tell them that her son was a homicidal maniac and he was planning yet another murder. But she couldn’t bring herself to do this.
After all, she tried to convince herself, Reynolds was old and a hopeless drunk. With him out of the way, Crispin might just settle down and these dreadful murders might cease. Sometime tonight, Crispin would dispose of Reynolds. She refused to let her mind dwell on how Crispin would get rid of the body. What was this telephone call Crispin had received from this man, Kendriek. The police?
Amelia got unsteadily to her feet. She couldn’t stay a moment longer in the house! She would go to the Spanish Bay hotel. They were always kind to her. She would stay there until this dreadful affair was concluded.
She walked heavily to her bedroom. This was the moment when she missed Reynolds who always packed for her. She took a suitcase from the closet and packed what she thought she would need. As she was closing the lid of the suitcase, Crispin appeared in the doorway.
‘Very wise, mother,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Where will you stay?’
‘The Spanish Bay hotel,’ Amelia said in a stifled voice.
Crispin nodded.
‘There is nothing to worry about. I will telephone you when you can return.’
‘I couldn’t but help to overhear,’ Amelia said, breathing heavily. ‘This man, Kendriek. Why was there talk about the police?’
‘Come along, mother!’ There was a sudden snap in Crispin’s voice. ‘I will carry your suitcase. Use the Rolls. I won’t need it for a while.’
‘Crispin!’ Amelia made a last feeble effort. ‘My son! Please...’
Crispin’s eyes lit up, and once again he looked like her Uncle Martin.
‘Come along!’ he snarled. ‘I want you out of here! And remember... say nothing!’
Defeated and frightened, Amelia followed him out of the house. Crispin put her suitcase in the trunk of the Rolls, then as she settled her bulk behind the driving wheel, he leaned forward and stared at her.
‘I will telephone you in a day or so. I must arrange for someone to take care of you. Say nothing! There is nothing to worry about.’
Shaking, her hands trembling, Amelia somehow started the engine. Her last thought, as she drove away, was of Reynolds.
Kendriek paced the big living room of his apartment while Louis, in a furious temper, sat on the edge of a chair, glaring at him. Kendriek had spoilt Louis’s Sunday: such a lovely boy and so willing. He hadn’t dared leave the boy in his apartment. The very young were so unreliable, and Louis had many choice possessions that could have tempted the boy. He had bundled him out, protesting, so he could rush over to Kendriek.
‘I thought it wise, so I telephoned Mr. Gregg to explain the position,’ Kendriek said. ‘He turned exceedingly unpleasant. He says if I mention his name to the police, he would close down the gallery. He sounded vicious enough to do just that. He has money to buy me out.’
‘Why should he do that unless he has something to hide?’ Louis demanded.
‘Perhaps he does have something to hide. I don’t know. I don’t want to know. When Lepski comes tomorrow, cheri, we tell him nothing.’
‘There’s a two hundred thousand dollar reward!’ Louis unearned. ‘I heard it on the radio before I left. Do you call that nothing?’
Kendriek stared at Louis, his little eyes turning to stone.
‘Listen, fool!’ he said, a rasp in his voice. ‘Once a police informer, always a police informer. I promised Gregg not to say he was the painter of this abortion of his. If I tell the police, the word will leak. No one, in the future, will touch us!’
‘So you are going to lie to Lepski!’ Louis shrilled. ‘That will make you an accessory to murder! You are out of your mind!’
‘We don’t know Gregg has anything to do with these murders!’ Kendriek shouted. ‘Lepski says Gregg’s painting is connected with these murders, but he doesn’t say why. Suppose we told Lepski that Gregg did the painting and the police interrogate Gregg. He will know we have informed! Then suppose the police can prove nothing against Gregg? Then we have Gregg ruining us and the word will leak we have informed. Use your brains, cheri! We say nothing.’
Louis jumped to his feet.
‘I will not be involved in this!’ he cried, stamping his foot. ‘You have spoilt my day! You lie to Lepski! I will not have anything to do with it!’