Killer's Choice

'Thank you,' Kling said. He opened the door, hesitated, and said, 'Right or left?'

'What?'

'The corridor.'

'Oh.' The girl smiled. 'Left down the corridor.'

'Thank you,' Kling said again. He closed the door behind him and turned left, walking past a series of doors. There was a door at the end of the corridor. He opened it and walked into a huge room which ran at a right angle to the corridor. A platform was set up at the far end of the room. A girl in a leopard skin was lying on a piece of black velvet which had been draped over the platform. Six lights were trained on the girl. A camera was trained on the girl. A man was behind the camera. Another man was arranging the folds in the velvet draped over the platform. A third man stood with his arms folded, slightly to the left of the camera.

'I'd like to shoot up at her, Ted,' the man with the folded arms said.

'I'll do whatever you want,' Boone answered. 'It's your ad.'

'Well, that's what I'd like. I want to get the feeling she's looking down at us.'

'What for?'

'It's what I want.'

'But your copy reads "Women look up to men who use Leopard Aftershave",' Boone said.

'That's right,' the man with the folded arms said.

'So why can't I look up?' the model in the leopard skin asked. 'I photograph better looking up, anyway.'

'I want you looking down.'

'That doesn't make sense,' the model said.

'Honey,' the man with the folded arms said, 'you're getting paid forty dollars an hour to pose, not to be an art director. When I want you to look up, I'll ask you to look up. Right now, I'd like you to look down, and I'd like our friend Mr Boone to shoot from the floor to exaggerate this feeling of your looking down.'

'Well, that's certainly a mystery to me,' the girl said. 'The copy says "look up" and you want look down. That's certainly the mystery of the decade. That's certainly the inscrutable mystery of the Orient.'

Kling cleared his throat.

Boone turned from the camera.

He was not a good-looking man, and yet he was a good-looking man. He was a trifle short perhaps, with thick black hair, and with the irregular features of a boxer. But he was narrow-waisted and wide-shouldered, and he turned with an economy of movement that told Kling he was quick on his feet and probably as sharply trained as a Commando. He had bright brown eyes, and they focused instantly on Kling, and he moved away from the camera just as instantly and walked to Kling with his hand extended.

'Detective Kling?' he asked.

'Yes,' Kling said. 'I hope I'm not intruding.'

'Not at all.' Boone turned and said, 'Karl, mind if we take a short break?'

'I'm only paying the jungle queen forty dollars an hour,' the man with the folded arms said.

'I can use a break,' the model said. 'This looking down bit can get strenuous.'

'Go ahead,' Karl said, unfolding his arms. 'Take a break. Practise looking down. Practise looking down and giving the feeling that you're looking up at the same time.'

'For that, you've got to be double-jointed,' the model said. 'You should have hired a circus performer.'

'Sometimes I get the feeling I have,' Karl said.

Kling followed Boone to the side of the room. He took a package of cigarettes from his pocket and extended it to Kling.

'Smoke?'

'Thanks, no,' Kling said.

Boone shook a cigarette free and lighted it. He blew out a stream of smoke, sighed, and said, 'Who killed her?'

'We don't know,' Kling said.

'How can I help?'

'By answering some questions, if you don't mind.'

'Not at all.' Boone sucked in on his cigarette. 'Shoot,' he said.

'You were married how long?'

Boone did not stop to calculate. Quickly, he said, 'Five years, two months, and eleven days.'

'You remember that closely?'

'It was the happiest time of my life,' Boone said.

'It was?' Kling said. His face was expressionless. He was remembering all that Mrs Travail had told him, but his face remained expressionless.

'Yes,' Boone said.

'Why'd you get divorced?'

'She didn't want me any more.'

'Let me get this straight,' Kling said. 'She asked for the divorce?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'I don't know. I wish I did know. I thought everything was going along fine. Christ knows, I loved her.'

'We'd better start from the beginning,' Kling said.

'All right. Where do you want me to start?'

'Where'd you meet?'

'At the public library.'

'When was this?'

'Eight years ago. 1949?'

'Good enough. Remember the month?'

'June.'

'What were you doing at the library?'

'I was free-lancing at the time. I'd had a job possibility, some industrial stuff, but I couldn't find any samples to clinch the deal. I'd had some stuff in one of the photography magazines, and I went to the library to locate the back issue.'

'Did you?'

'Yes. I also met Annie.'

'How?'

'It was strange. I guess I'm a nervous type. I was drumming my fingers on the table. I'd taken the… what do you call it… reader's guide to magazines or something, because I couldn't remember the issue the stuff had been in, and I was thumbing through it at the table and drumming my fingers. I'm a nervous type. Lots of nervous energy. I always tap a foot or drum my fingers or something. You know?'

'Go ahead.'

'She was sitting at the table reading. She asked me to please stop drumming my fingers. I guess we had sort of a little argument about it. I wasn't really angry. She was a damned attractive girl, and I started the argument just so I could get to apologize later on.'

'Did you?'

'Yes. I apologized and asked her out to dinner. She accepted. That was the beginning.'

'What kind of a girl was Annie?'

'Annie?' Boone's eyes went reflectively sad. 'The most wonderful girl I've ever met in my life. Alive, Mr Kling. Really alive. You meet a lot of redheads who only have the red hair, and that's their fire. The rest is just washed-out pale complexion and no life. Have you noticed that most redheads have very pale complexions? When they get in the sun, they turn red all over, like lobsters. Annie wasn't that way. She was alive. Her red hair only set the pace. She loved doing things. Swimming, skiing, riding, everything. We had a ball. We really did. She didn't burn in the sun. She turned bronze. She was beautiful. I loved that girl. I gave that girl everything I had. I loved her.'

'What happened?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't have any inkling?'

Boone shrugged helplessly. 'Monica was born. Have you met my daughter?'

'Yes.'

'She's a charmer, isn't she?'

'Yes.'

'Then you've met the Bag, too?'

'What? I'm sorry.'

'My ex mother-in-law, Mrs Travail.'

'Yes. I met her.'

'The bitch,' Boone said. 'I'm taking her to court, you know.'

'I didn't know.'

'For custody of the child.'

'I got the impression she liked you,' Kling said.

'Really? She's a great actress, the Bag. I think she had more to do with Annie and me splitting up than anything else.'

'How do you figure that?'

'She hated Annie. The Bag lost all her men, and she didn't like the idea that her daughter had one. The Bag also lost her looks, and Annie still had hers. The Bag was stupid, Annie was bright.'

'Bright?'

'Intelligent. Smart as a whip. There wasn't anything Annie couldn't do and do well. A quick learner, Mr Kling. Quick. I had a hard time keeping up with her.'

'She… she wasn't stupid?'

'Stupid? Hell, no. She was that rare combination, a brain with good looks. And she didn't flaunt the brain. She didn't make you feel like an idiot. Oh, Jesus, Mr Kling, how can I tell you about Annie? She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She's responsible for whatever I am now. I was a dumb kid with a camera when I met her. Now I know what I want out of life, now I know the things that are important. Annie did all that. The day I lost her was the blackest day of my life.'