“I don’t know,” said Dodd grimly, “but you can just bet I’m going to find out.”
He stalked into his private office, sat down on the edge of his cluttered desk and picked up the telephone. He dialed long distance, and when the operator answered, he said: “I want to put in a call to the police department of Sparkling Falls, South Dakota.”
“Yes, sir. Your number, sir?”
Dodd told her and said: “I’ll hold the line. Make it as snappy as you can.”
Meekins came in from the front room carrying the pint bottle of whiskey and sat down in the chair behind Dodd’s desk. “It don’t seem reasonable—”
“Shut up,” said Dodd.
Meekins shrugged and took a drink. Dodd waited, swinging one long leg and muttering profanely under his breath.
The operator said in his ear: “Your party is not there now, sir. Shall I try again later?”
“What?” said Dodd. “Wait a minute. I’m not calling any particular party. Just the police department.”
“There is no answer, sir.”
“You mean the police department doesn’t answer?” Dodd demanded incredulously. “Well, why not?”
“Just one moment, sir.”
Meekins said: “You didn’t try to reverse the charges on ’em, did you?”
“No,” Dodd answered. “Shut up.”
The operator said: “Do you wish to talk to his wife, sir?”
“What’s that?” Dodd said. “Look here, operator. I just want the police department of Sparkling Falls, that’s all. How can a police department have a wife?”
“Wait just one moment, sir.”
“You want another drink?” Meekins asked.
“No,” said Dodd.
The operator spoke again: “The police department of Sparkling Falls consists of one officer only — a constable. His name is Harold Stacy. He is not available now, sir. Do you wish to speak to Mrs. Stacy?”
“O.K.,” Dodd said. “All right. Put her on.”
The line clicked and clicked again, and then a tinny, raw-edged voice shouted: “Hello hello hello hello hello—”
“Hello!” Dodd said loudly. “I want to speak to Harold Stacy!”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know where he is!” Dodd shouted. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Oh, you liar! You dirty, filthy liar!”
“What?” said Dodd, startled.
The tinny voice screeched fiercely: “Oh, you can’t fool me! I know that miserable little wretch is sitting right there beside you grinning and gloating. Oh, you just wait until he gets back home, and I’ll make him regret the very day he was born! You tell him that! You tell him I’ll—”
“Hey!” Dodd interrupted. “Your husband isn’t here. I’m calling long distance from Bay City—”
“You’re lying! He didn’t have enough money to get that far! You tell him—”
“He — isn’t — here! I’m trying to find him because I want to find out—”
“Oh, you can’t get around me with your smooth talk! I know you’re one of his vicious, drunken friends trying to cover up for him! You tell him I’ll make him pay tenfold for all the suffering and disgrace he’s caused me! And don’t you dare have the impudence to call me again, or I’ll have you arrested and sent to jail for life! And Harold with you!”
The line clicked and then hummed emptily.
The operator said: “Just a moment, sir. There seems to be some difficulty....”
Dodd nodded at Meekins. “I’ll have that drink now.” He took it out of the bottle, holding the receiver to his ear.
The operator said suddenly: “Is this an official call, sir?”
“Oh, sure,” Dodd answered. “This is Lieutenant Bartlett of the Homicide detail. The message is very vital — a matter of life and death, you might say.”
“The operator at Sparkling Falls would like to speak to you. Shall I put her on?”
“Go ahead,” Dodd invited. “Why not?”
“Hello,” said a soft, shyly feminine voice.
“Hello,” Dodd said. “How are you?”
“Fine, thank you. My name is Elsie Bailey.”
“I’ll write it down,” Dodd promised. “I hear you want to talk to me, Elsie.”
“Yes, I guess I do. I mean, I think I ought to. I heard you speaking to Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t help it because she started yelling at you before I had time to see if the connection was clear.”
“Think nothing of it, Elsie. I have no secrets.”
“Hah!” Meekins observed skeptically. “Say, what kind of game is this?”
Elsie was saying earnestly: “I knew you weren’t fooling about Harold Stacy, because I knew you were really calling from Bay City, and of course he would never go that far.”
“Of course,” Dodd agreed. “But why not?”
“He only gets a hundred and nineteen dollars and fifty-three cents a month.”
“That’s as good a reason as any, I guess,” Dodd said. “Elsie, did you have anything in particular you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I am! About Harold Stacy. He’s married.”
“I gathered that,” Dodd admitted.
“His wife is really terribly strict with him, and sometimes he... he sort of has to blow up steam.”
“Blow off steam,” Dodd corrected. “Elsie, about this matter you wanted to tell me—”
“I am telling you! Harold Stacy got paid yesterday — he gets paid every two weeks — and he’s off somewhere now blowing up steam. What did you want to ask him? Maybe I can help you.”
“I wanted to talk to him about the suicide of a man by the name of Elwin Tooper.”
“Oh, wasn’t that awful!”
“Not nearly awful enough to suit me. That’s why I’m calling. Do you know how it happened?”
“He just shot himself. Blew his brains all over!”
“Who identified him?”
“Identified him? Why, everyone knew him! He’d lived here for months.”
“Do you know if Stacy printed him afterwards?”
“What?” Elsie said blankly.
“Took his fingerprints.”
“Why, of course not! What on earth for?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Dodd admitted wearily. “Did you see him after he was dead?”
“Why, what an awful thing to suggest! Of course I didn’t! They wouldn’t let anyone see him, because his head was all blown to pieces. Isn’t it too bad? He was such an awfully nice little man. We all liked him. I suppose Harold Stacy could tell you more about his death, if you really want to know.”
“I really do,” Dodd assured her. “How long do you think it will be before Harold gets through blowing up steam?”
“Well.... If I tell you something will you promise not to tell anybody?”
“Cross my heart,” said Dodd.
“Sometimes,” said Elsie carefully, “sometimes when Harold wants to blow up steam he goes to see a friend of his by the name of Doctor Herman Ramsey, who lives outside of Milesville, South Dakota. They fish and drink beer and play pinochle together. You might try to get him there, but you can’t call because there is no telephone.”
“A doctor with no telephone?” Dodd said skeptically.
“He’s a horse doctor.”
“O.K.,” said Dodd, giving it up. “Thanks a lot, Elsie. By the way, do you know what Blinky — I mean, Tooper — was doing in Sparkling Falls?”
“Why, he ran the paper.”
“He what?” said Dodd.
“He ran our newspaper. It comes out twice a week.”
Oh, said Dodd. “Thanks again, Elsie. If I ever come to Sparkling Falls — God forbid — I’ll look you up.” He put the telephone back on its cradle and looked at Meekins. “Blinky was running the newspaper in Sparkling Falls.”