He sighed. Rubbed his face again.
“So you don’t have any idea where they are?”
“If I did, I’d go get them.”
“Yes, I suppose you would.”
He snapped up from his chair and walked over to the window. “There’re spies everywhere.” Then he turned to me and smiled. “How paranoid does that sound?”
“I imagine it’s true.”
“My worthy opponent’s got just as many gumshoes and political ops on me as I have on him.”
“You think it was one of them who slugged me?”
“I’d say it was a good possibility, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
He came back and sat down. That sudden explosion of energy had seemed to drain him.
“I can still win. If we can get those negatives back before they get to the wrong people.”
“How’s Lucy?”
He looked shocked that I’d brought her up. My God, we were talking about his career and I’d had the nerve to drag in something as trivial as his daughter’s well-being?
He waved me off. “Oh, you know, still moping. She’s like her mother. Everything’s my fault. Now her mother’s telling me if I’d been a more ‘loving’ father maybe Lucy wouldn’t be so — disturbed.” He made a face. “‘Disturbed’ is the code word. There’s some clinical insanity on my wife’s side of the family. Dementia in two of her sisters. I think we may be looking at something clinical with Lucy. Not as severe as dementia but certainly some kind of serious dysfunction mentally.”
So who could blame him if his daughter’s misery was genetic? He was blameless as always.
He stood up. He seemed lost, not quite sure where he was. “I thought it’d be so easy. I’d just come down here and get the negatives tonight. I thought I’d be all done with this. But it’s still going on, isn’t it?”
He went to the door. “If you find any more negatives, call me right away, Sam. Please. I’ll pay you anything for them. Anything you ask.”
“If I find any more negatives pertaining to you, I’ll hand them over to you. No charge. Again, I’m not in the shakedown business.”
He stared out into the hallway. “It used to be so damned easy for me, Sam. Everything was. But not anymore. Not anymore.” He sounded ghostly.
And then, head bent like a penitent’s, he slowly left the building.
I sat there for a few minutes wondering what was going on. Certainly something was. Williams was terrified of negatives that weren’t in his file. I doubted that the pictures he was after had to do with his adulterous affair. Presumably, those were the ones I’d given him.
What other kind of photos would shake him up this badly? I spent twenty minutes trying to finish off some paperwork. But concentration came hard. Too hard.
Preparing my papers for tomorrow was easier than reading briefs. I shoved papers into appropriate file folders and shoved the file folders into my briefcase.
I finally hung up the receiver and the phone rang instantly.
Jane said, breathlessly: “I was just about ready to come over there and get you. Get over to the hospital right away.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody snuck into James Neville’s room and killed him.”
25
Flashing emergency lights imbued the three-story brick building with a blanched red hue. Cops were stationed at both side doors, two at the front. A crowd had already gathered. Some of them were probably visitors on their way home when all the alarms went off.
The cops recognized me and waved me through. I took the interior stairs rather than the elevator. I never ride when I can walk. There’s something coffinlike about elevators that has always scared me a little.
The west wing of the third floor was in chaos. There was a sense that this part of the hospital had been invaded.
Patients were being wheeled out of their rooms and steered to the east wing. The police business would go on for hours. Not exactly a relaxing atmosphere for people recovering from gall bladder surgery or even more deadly operations.
Nurses, a pair of doctors, and a janitor were being interviewed by one of Jane’s young assistants. She’d increased her staff by three.
The hospital boss stood off by himself. This was Public Relations Nightmare numbers 1—20. A murder in your hospital while a police officer was ostensibly standing guard. The hospital would recover, of course, but not before there was a trial in the press and an endless number of local jokes. His soft, round face gave the impression that he had been shunned by the entire human race.
Jane wore a pair of walking shorts and a white blouse. Her hair was done in a chignon, which provided an interesting contrast with the informality of her attire. She was talking with Cliffie and it was pretty clear, even though she was doing her best to make it appear that she was just having a conversation, that she was helping him set up the crime scene properly. She had walked all his cops through three nights of evidence-gathering. I’m told they weren’t happy that they hadn’t gotten overtime pay for sitting in the borrowed public school classroom. She’d even brought in two experts from the State Bureau of Investigation. For joy for joy.
But her diligence looked to be working. I’d never seen Cliffie’s men working a crime scene so efficiently.
Jane came over. “The man standing guard went to the bathroom. If he’s telling the truth, he was gone no more than five minutes.”
“So somebody was watching him, waiting to make a move.”
“It appears that way.”
“Anybody see anybody else going into or out of the room?”
“The only people working this wing are the two docs, the nurse, and the janitor my people are interviewing now. And they didn’t see anybody.”
“How’d he die?”
“Throat cut. The nurse on duty said that Neville had been given a heavy sedative about half an hour ago. He’d had trouble sleeping. So he probably wasn’t in any shape to resist, especially with a broken arm.”
“Anybody call his brother Will?”
“Busy signal. I should check it again.”
“Let me do it.”
She watched my face as if it was going to reveal something to her.
“You wouldn’t forget our little bargain, would you? About being partners?”
I hadn’t thought about it since getting caught up in all the confusion up here. “Maybe I should tell you about Senator Williams dropping by.”
“Yeah, Sam, maybe you should.” The tone was impish; the eyes were remorseless.
So I told her, finishing up with, “I have no idea what the negatives are.”
“But he was really upset.”
“Very upset. Like he was dazed or something. He seems to think that his whole career is on the line here.”
“That’s strange. He got the negatives you said he’d wanted in the first place—”
Just then one of her assistants waved her over.
“I’d better check on this. Are you going to try Neville’s phone again?”
“Yeah. And if it’s still busy, I may wander over there.”
“You sure you’re telling me everything?”
“You want me to swear on my ragtop that I’m telling you the truth?”
The imp again. “Sometime when we’re just relaxing I want to talk to you about that car of yours. You ever think it’s a little bit ‘youthful’ for a grown-up attorney?”
“‘Youthful.’ People generally aren’t that kind.”
“I need to go.” And she was gone.
I walked down to the lobby, got a cup of coffee from the snack bar, headed over to the pay phone.
I had to look up his number. I got a busy signal for my trouble. I decided to make sure he hadn’t just taken it off the hook, the way I had.