"It's all shot to hell now," muttered Morgan, "all for nothing-and you know, I don't think-I don't think I could've done it anyway." He looked at Gunn, at the other side of the bed-Gunn, who'd had to get dressed and come out after all. "I'll tell you," he said, "I'll tell you-didn't go there to see Mrs. Lindstrom, Mendoza. I went to kill a man. A man named Smith."
They heard about Smith in disjointed phrases. Gunn's round, amiable face got longer and more worried by the second. "Oh, you damn fool, Dick-can't have been thinking straight-should've come to me, gone to the police, he couldn't-"
"Oh, couldn't he! Can't he! I remember enough law- Extortion? The law doesn't take your unsupported word, does it?"-turning on Mendoza, who shook his head. "What could I do, what else could I-? Well, there it is-wasn't intended, I guess-and now we're right back where we were. God, I don't know'
"Smith," said Mendoza. "Description?" And when he'd pried that out of Morgan, "Yes, well, he won't be troubling you for a while. His real name's Dalton, he's a small-time hood on the run from parole in New York, and we picked him up tonight in the middle of the other excitement. He's got two years coming back east."
"Oh, God, you don't mean it-he's-all this for-"
"Take it easy, Dick," said Gunn, sitting down, looking almost sick with relief. "That doesn't mean you're out of the woods, but it makes it the hell of a lot easier. If the woman's so-tractable, the way you say, there shouldn't be any trouble. Put it through nice and quiet, get her to see a lawyer with you, there shouldn't be any contest, just a routine thing. Dalton wasn't after Janny, only the money, he wouldn't-"
"You think-no hitch, do it like that? If we-oh, God, I hope so, we've both been about crazy-" Morgan sat up and clutched Gunn's arm. "You said Sue's coming?-want to tell her-tell her it's all right, or almost-"
"Sue's coming, you lie down. I called Christy, she's gone over to stay with Janny, and Sue'll be taking a cab down, on her way right now, probably."
Mendoza stood up. "There'll be an inquest, of course, but purely formal. You needn't worry about it. Self-defense, justifiable Homicide.
Which is a very damned lucky outcome for you, Morgan. You don't know how lucky. If you want the Luger back, you'll have to apply for a License."
"Oh, well, keep it, I don't want it. I-I feel fine," said Morgan, and laughed. "Wish Sue'd get here. You can have the damn gun. Glad now-didn't use its the way I planned, anyway-"
"Just as well." Mendoza looked down at him, smiling very faintly.
"I'd advise you, Morgan, not to get in a situation again where you start thinking about murder-in the first place, it never solves any problems, you known it creates more. And in the second place, from what you told me of your plans for this one, it wouldn't take a full-fledged lieutenant of detectives to spot you for X about half an hour after the corpse began to cool. However, as it is we're all very happy you happened to be in the right place at the right time-and congratulations on the rest of this working out for you." He nodded to Gunn, still looking amused, and went out.
After a minute Morgan said, "Damn him-that's-when I thought I was being so clever, too… but I suppose he's right, at that. Just something about him-puts my back up, is all."
Gunn sneezed, said, "Oh, hell it is a cold," and took out another cigarette. "Well, you know-Luis," he added soberly, "maybe he's just what they call overcompensating, for a time he was only another dirty little Mex kid in a slum street. You know? Tell you one thing, Dick, he's a damned good cop-if a little erratic now and then," and he grinned. He found a packet of matches, looked at it without lighting the cigarette. "He's also a very lonely man. Which, maybe he'll find out some day."
Morgan moved restlessly. "Give me another one of those, will you? I wish Sued come…"
"Philosophizing?" Mendoza came up behind Hackett in the lobby.
"Yeah, I guess you could say I was," said Hackett, who'd been standing stock-still, staring vacantly at the wall. "I guess so. You know, this whole thing-it just struck me-what for? What's it mean?"
Mendoza laughed and shrugged. "?Quidn sabe?-?Sabe Dios! Nice to think it means anything."
"No, but it makes you wonder. You look at it and you can work up a fine righteous wrath against that damn fool woman, against the ignorance and false pride and plain damned muddle-headedness that's killed three people-four, if you count him-and all unnecessarily. But was it? The way things dovetail, sometimes-Morgan just happening to be there, and with a gun on him-because if he hadn't had, you know, I don't think he could have handled that one alone, I don't think any two men- Without the gun, maybe Morgan dead too. And maybe it was all for something, Luis-that we don't know about, never will. To save the boy-maybe he's got something to do here, part of some plan. You know? Maybe," and Hackett laughed, "so Agnes Browne could get all straightened out with her Joe. Maybe so the Wades can keep their nice high-class superior-white-Protestant bloodline pure."
"Comforting to think," repeated Mendoza cynically. "That's why I'm a lieutenant and you're a sergeant, Arturo-every time I formulate a theory, I want evidence to say it's so, or I don't keep the theory. ?Comprende? On that, there's no evidence. If you want to theorize, chico, maybe it all happened so I could meet this pretty redhead. Change, please, if you've got it-?Date prisa, por favor! "
Hackett took the quarter and gave him three nickels and a dime. "You watch yourself with that one, boy-I got a hunch you don't get something for nothing there."
"All these years and you don't know me yet. Wait and see. Hasta luego -eight o'clock sharp, we've a lot of routine to clear up." Mendoza went over to the row of public phone booths.
When Alison answered the second ring he said, "Luis. Would you like to hear a story of human foibles and follies?… Yes, we've got him, it's all over. But for the routine. I'll be with you in twenty minutes, you'll be interested to hear all about it."
"Well, yes, but it is rather late-"
"Night's still young, chica. Twenty minutes," he repeated firmly, and hung up on her reluctant laugh.
Hackett was gone. Mendoza stood on the steps, lighting a cigarette, and the dead man in the freight yards wandered through his mind. The next thing, now. Tomorrow. A couple of rather suggestive little things, there: might yield the ghost of a line to look into..
… When he came out to the street, somebody in a brash new Buick had sewed him up tight in the parking space; it would take some maneuvering to get the Ferrari out. He swore, getting out his keys; no denying at all that a smaller car- He might just look into it, no harm in looking. Maybe that Mercedes…
He slid under the wheel and started the engine. Meanwhile, Alison. He smiled to himself; he expected to enjoy Alison…