“Hold it,” I said quickly. “If nobody’s got any objections, I think Pete and I’ll take our bodies a little farther away from here first.”
We went back to our station behind one of the big marble pillars.
One of the patrolmen left the ropes and joined us. He talked close to our ears. “That guy with the light hair and tan jacket over there near the candy stand. I’ll swear I saw him in the crowd at the library last week.”
We looked at the faces behind the line and found him. He was a small man with a light complexion. His bright eyes had no attention for anything but what was going to happen near the truck.
Pete started to move, but I touched his arm. “He can wait a minute.”
O’Brien and Hastings were alone on their stage. They went to the truck and got the long pole with the steel mesh basket.
The emptiness of silence took over as O’Brien bent over the package. He looked up for a moment and I thought I saw a grin through his mask. Then he put both hands gently on the package and began to lift it.
The explosion was a giant’s roar that echoed and reechoed through the big terminal.
I heard Pete curse. And when I stepped from behind the pillar, O’Brien and Hastings were two costumed dolls that lay twisted grotesquely on the marble floor.
I bulled my way through the screaming crowd and got to the little man. He didn’t know I was there. Not even when I put a hand around his thin arm.
He was still in his own world. His protruding eyes were on the two broken men on the floor and he smiled.
Captain Wilson moved his ash tray back and forth a few times before he looked up. “Hastings died right away. O’Brien’s still hanging on, but if he makes it, he’ll be retired for life.”
He picked up the report sheet. “The suspect’s name is Irwin James Stuart, 1368 98th St. I left him for you two to work on, considering that you picked him up.”
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. “Stuart is thirty-six, a bachelor, and living with his mother. She thinks we’re beasts. Her boy never did anything wrong in his life. He’s a good son and he never forgets Mother’s Day.”
He rummaged through the papers on his desk top until he found the slip he wanted. “We went through Stuart’s house. Four lead pipes, ten cappings, the works of three cheap wrist watches and a small keg of powder. It’s the kind of powder you use when you go in for reloading your own cartridges. But Stuart doesn’t own a gun and there aren’t any cartridges in the place.”
Wilson got up and moved about restlessly. “We also found a scrapbook of newspaper clippings. It covers all the bombs, all the way back to the first one.”
There were deep lines in his face. “Besides the big damage, three people got hit by fragments. Nothing serious, but they’re probably talking to their lawyers now. Five more got trampled, some in the rush for the exits, and I guess we’ll hear from them too.”
I tapped a cigarette from my pack. “Somebody should have seen the box put there.”
Wilson shrugged. “Fifty thousand or more people go through that terminal every day. Stuart must have counted on that.” He exhaled a tired breath. “We got seven witnesses and seven descriptions. Five claim it was a man and two that it was a woman.”
Pete thought it over. “Did they get a look at Stuart yet?”
Wilson’s laugh was short. “Three identified him, including one who was sure it was a woman. Any good lawyer could tear them apart on the witness stand.”
He looked at us. “A confession would be a help. A real dandy help.”
Pete and I got up and went out into the corridor. We walked down to room 618.
Pete stopped a moment before he turned the doorknob. “You go on being the kind, understanding detective, Fred — if you want. My heart wouldn’t be in it. I’ll feel a lot more comfortable being mean.”
Stuart was handcuffed to one of the steam pipes and he had a patrolman to keep an eye on him.
Pete walked close to Stuart and grinned. “Everybody around here’s been treating you too gentle. I’m here to change that.”
I unlocked Stuart’s handcuffs. “Rub your wrists a little, Mr. Stuart. They’ll feel a lot better.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “And please take a chair. You must have been standing for hours and you’re tired.”
Stuart sat down and Pete leaned over him. His voice was a growl. “How do you feel now? Nice and comfortable?”
Stuart’s lips trembled and he looked away.
“Mr. Stuart,” I said. “All we ask of you is that you answer our questions in the best way you know. How soon after you plant those bombs do you make the phone call?”
Stuart shook his head. “I know nothing about those bombs.”
Pete rubbed his knuckles. “Tell us what you were going to do with all that powder we found in your basement. And how about the pipes, the caps, and the watches?”
Stuart flushed slightly. “You had no right to search my mother’s house. You had no right at all to go through my things.”
Pete blew cigar smoke into his face and laughed.
The door opened and Captain Wilson came in. He stared at Stuart for ten seconds and then turned to us. “O’Brien died a few minutes ago.”
Pete handcuffed Stuart to the steam pipe again and we went into the corridor. “Where’s Eileen?” he asked. “At the hospital?”
Wilson shook his head. “There wasn’t anything she could do there. I told her to go home about an hour ago.”
He smiled tiredly. “I guess you two are elected to break the news.”
He walked us to the elevators. “The lab boys have been putting things together. This time the bomb was a lot stronger. They figure at least three pipes were used.”
Pete grunted. “I guess Stuart got tired of having his things go off without killing anybody.”
Wilson pressed the elevator button. “Another thing. It wasn’t a time device. It was rigged to go off when somebody lifted the package.”
Eileen O’Brien opened the door of her ranch-style home. Her face was calm as she studied us and then she spoke softly. “It’s all over, isn’t it? Jerry’s dead?”
I nodded.
She turned and walked away. Pete and I followed and closed the door.
We stood there awhile watching her stare out of the window and then Pete cleared his throat. “Maybe we’d better go, Fred.”
Eileen turned. “No. I don’t want to be alone now. I think it’s better if somebody’s with me.” She smiled weakly. “I know this is hard on you too. You were Jerry’s best friends.”
Pete’s hands played with the brim of his hat. “At least we got the guy who did it. That’s something on the good side.”
Eileen bent over the silver cigarette box on the cocktail table. “Has he confessed?”
“He’ll get to it,” I said. “We’ll see to that.”
Eileen sat down on the davenport. “Just what kind of a man is he?”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not his psychiatrist.”
“He’s weak,” Pete said. “But he likes to feel important. He likes the idea of a whole city being scared.”
Eileen was thoughtful for a moment. “Why don’t you fix us all drinks, Pete? I think I could use one.”
I listened to Pete moving about in the kitchen. “We got the right man, Eileen,” I said softly. “We found everything we need to make it stick.”
She smiled slightly. “That was luck, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “Some luck.”
Pete came back with mixed drinks for Eileen and me and then opened a bottle of beer for himself. “There wasn’t any beer in the refrigerator, so I went down into the basement and got some from the case. That was all right wasn’t it, Eileen? Jerry always said to help myself if the refrigerator was empty.”
He poured his beer carefully. “I guess Jerry really liked his job. The bomb work, I mean.”