The fat man scowled at him.
“Go away! How dare you walk in like this! I won’t have any pictures taken! I feel very bad.”
“I am Val Cade.”
The manservant, tuttering and twittering, advanced on Cade, but Friedlander waved him aside.
“Cade? Are you really? Yes, I recognise you. Well, this is a happy surprise. You are as great an artist as I am... in your own very special field let it be understood. What brings you here?”
“Mr. Friedlander, you must not exert yourself,” the tall, thin man said soothingly.
“Shoo! Run away!” Friedlander snarled. “I will not be dictated to by quacks! Be off!”
The tall, thin man seemed used to this treatment. He beckoned to the manservant and drew him aside. He began whispering to him.
Cade said, “Mr. Friedlander, this shooting can’t remain a secret. You don’t want any kind of photograph of yourself appearing in the Worlds’ press. You know my work. Give me an exclusive and you can be sure of an artistic job.”
Friedlander forced a smile. Although in pain, he was flattered.
“Yes, of course, dear boy. You go right ahead. No other photographer will be allowed in here. After all, a Cade photograph is like a Friedlander painting.”
As Cade began taking photos, he asked casually,
“How did it happen, Mr. Friedlander?”
The old man’s face turned vicious. It was the kind of expression he was hoping for. The shutter snapped as Friedlander said, “The boy is mad! Quite, quite mad! When I think what I have done for him! I had a little friend. It is so stupid. Jerry is madly jealous, but no one dictates to me. He had this gun. I couldn’t believe he would use it.”
The doctor, seeing how pale the old man was growing, signalled to Cade. He had his pictures, so he nodded and stepped back.
“Thank you, Mr. Friedlander. Get well quickly.”
The old man looked on the point of fainting, but actor to the end, he waved a feeble hand as Cade left the room.
The clamour of voices outside the front door warned Cade that the press had arrived.
Tucker came from the side room.
“Go ahead. I can give you ten minutes... no more,” he said. “I guess I’d better talk to these apes outside.”
Cade walked into the room where two bored looking detectives were smoking by the window and a young man sat in an upright chair, his hands between his knees, his shoulders slumped.
Jerry Marshall was twenty three years of age. He was tall, blond and handsome with good features and blue deep-set eyes. As soon as he saw Cade’s camera, he stiffened and became scowlingly hostile.
Cade put the camera on the table.
“I’m Val Cade,” he said. “You have probably heard of me. I want to photograph you, Jerry, but only on your say-so. You’ve made headlines of the World press tonight, and there is nothing you can now do about it. Outside, there are pressmen and photographers. You can’t avoid them. But I’ll do a deal with you. Pose for me and in return I’ll get my paper to hire the best attorney they can find to look after your interests. If there is anything else I can do for you, just say so and I’ll do it.”
Marshall studied Cade, then relaxed.
“I know of you. Who doesn’t? All right, Mr. Cade, it’s a deal.”
Because Marshall wasn’t self-conscious and highly photogenic, Cade only took four flashlight shots, but he knew they were what he wanted.
One of the detectives said, “We have to get this guy down to headquarters, Mr. Cade. Hurry it up, will you?”
“I’m through,” Cade said, then to Marshall, he went on, “I’ll have a lawyer with you tonight... the best. Don’t worry about a thing. Is there anything else I can do?”
Marshall hesitated, then said, “Could you tell my sister what’s happened? I don’t want her to read about it in the papers tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Cade said. “I’ll see her tonight. Where do I find her?”
Marshall took out his wallet and scribbled an address on the back of one of his cards.
“Don’t jump it on her, Mr. Cade.” His face suddenly crumpled and he struggled to hide his emotion. After a moment, he controlled himself. “She and I are pretty close. Let her down lightly. It’ll be a shock.”
“Sure,” Cade said, taking the card. “Don’t worry. Any message?”
“Tell her I wish I had killed the stinking old bastard,” Marshall said.
“I’ll tell her just that. Okay, relax. I’ll fix it for you.”
He picked up his camera case and went out into the lobby. The uproar outside the penthouse made him hesitate. The elderly manservant came hurrying out of the lounge and Cade grabbed him by the arm.
“Is there a back way out of this place?”
The manservant pointed to a door.
“That leads to the service elevator.”
Five minutes later, Cade was in his car and heading for the Sun offices.
He found Mathison impatiently pacing up and down. He put the film cartridge on the desk.
“We’ve got exclusive pictures, Henry, and they are good ones, both of Friedlander and the boy who shot him.”
Mathison snatched up the telephone receiver and yelled for the Photo Editor to come a-running.
“I did a deal with the boy,” Cade went on as Mathison hung up. “Will you arrange for a first-class attorney to take care of him? I have an idea my photos could get him off.”
“What do you mean?” Mathison said, staring at him.
“Wait until you’ve seen them, Henry.”
“I’ll get Bernstein. A case like this is right up his alley.”
“Yes,” Cade started for the door. “I’ve something to do. Get Bernstein down to the boy tonight.”
“Wait a minute! Hey! Val!”
But Cade was already running down the stairs and out to his car. He slid under the wheel and then looked at the card Marshall had given him to check the address. Vicki Marshall, the boy’s sister, lived in an apartment on Tremont Avenue.
As Cade drove towards Tremont Avenue, he was unconsciously keeping yet another appointment with his destiny that was to lead him eventually to a town called Eastonville.
Indifferent to the world-shattering news of Friedlander’s shooting, Ed Burdick lay on the settee watching the Perry Mason show with cynical interest. As the programme was coming to its inevitable end, the telephone bell started its clamour. He hesitated about answering it. Then thinking it might be Cade wanting him, he picked up the receiver.
It was Mathison.
“Ed! I want you down here right away! I don’t give a damn what you are doing. I want you down here!”
“Take it easy, Henry. I’m off duty and I’m staying off duty. Besides I work with Cade now. What’s biting you? Friedlander? Let me tell you something: Friedlander...”
“Stop flapping with your mouth!” Mathison roared. “We have a story, Ed, right here on my desk that you wouldn’t pass up for all the gold in Fort Knox! That Cade! Wow! He’s taken a picture of Friedlander that will crucify the old bastard throughout the world! You’ve never seen anything like this picture! Cade thinks it could get the boy off. I’m damn sure it will. I have Bernstein coming down here. I want you to handle the story. Cade’s done his job. Now it’s up to you and Bernstein!”
Burdick began to get excited.
“Because of Cade’s pictures?”
“Sure. I’m telling you. It’s the picture... wait until you’ve seen it!”
“Remember what you once said, Henry? You said, ‘I know lushes. Once on the hook, they’re on for keeps.’ Remember?”
“So I was wrong. Okay, if it will make you happy, I’ll eat my words. Now, come on down here and stop wasting time.”
“Did Cade give you that picture, Henry?”