Marie murmured, to him only, ‘Tomorrow, Tiger?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“What time, Tiger?”
“Ten-thirty.”
She nodded, gazing at him, warmly. He gave her a grin.
“Ten-thirty—” she was murmuring. . . .
Dick and Sonny had finished.
“O.K.—Great—” Tiger said, to them.
“Is the part mine, Mr. McDrew?” That brown-haired maid asked him.
“Sure it is,” Tiger told her.
“Oh gosh! Thank you! Thank уоиГ she said, beaming, smiling, happily. Dick gave her a hug.
“She'll be fine,” Tiger murmured to Marie, quietly.
She nodded.
“Rochelle—Ron—” Tiger said, looking over there— “Let’s hear your opener once more—O.K.?”
“O.K.,” that lad said, moving to the front of the room, Rochelle following.
“Now we’ll hear something—” Tiger murmured to his Student Director.
Marie nodded, and said, “You know it.”
They sat back, as indeed Sandy, and everyone else did, waiting for it.
Suddenly, Tiger thought of Jill, in her casket The funeral would be day after tomorrow. Ron and Rochelle
Pretty Maids A11 in a Row 245 began. He and Looby Loo would pay their respects tomorrow. He thought: She must look beautiful, like a princess, sleeping, in her casket. ... He was filled with sorrow. . . .
44
Surcher was having a rough time with the lawyer. Although he had been extremely courteous and friendly, as indeed he nearly always was, Phil Marlowe just wouldn’t see things his way, or even remotely his way, to be blunt. For example, he kept exclaiming, “I want to see him now! The hell with that crap!” Of course there was really no way for Surcher to make him understand, that he knew. How could he communicate to him that his great fear was the possibility of another Boston Strangler situation developing right here, in the area, with Sawyersville its ground zero, and epicenter? He wouldn’t understand that at all, he wouldn’t buy it. To him, Jim was no potential Strangler. He only saw a Negro boy, victimized. And he wanted to see him, and release him. Right away, now, as he kept reiterating, before they had even had much of a chance to work on him. It was a problem, Surcher wrestled with it. How could he keep him away from the boy, at least until tomorrow morning? By then—with some luck—within, Surcher sighed. He would try.
“Mr. Marlowe.” he said, patiently, calmly, “Believe me, I’m going to arrange for you to see him as soon as possible—”
“Right now, I said!*’ The response came.
“We're talking to him—”
“What have you got on him? Have you booked him?”
“What have you got on him?”
And, for the tenth time at least, the Captain explained, carefully.
“That's nothing! What the hell’s that? Nothing!'’ Marlowe said, waving his arms around, in front of him. “You can’t hold him! Listen, Г11 raise holy hell! You’ll see, you’ll be worth nothing! I’ll get a writ slapped on you in no time flat—”
How much time? Surcher wondered, as the lawyer talked on. If he got hold of Judge Flannery от one of that breed tonight, that’s how much time, probably. He observed one of Jim’s brothers—the older one. He was in the room, along with the lawyer and others. He had been introduced to him, by Marlowe, in fact. He looked a lot like Jim. Surcher was more unhappy. What a mess.
“Mr. Marlowe—” he said, “I really would appreciate it a lot if you could wait until tomorrow. There’s a lot we want to talk to Jim about. We’re not going to harm him. We just have to find out a few things.”
“Listen, I’ll get through to the Governor—how would you like that?” Marlowe threw back.
And so, for another ten minutes at least, on it went. At last, Phil Marlowe stormed angrily out of there, through that small mob, many of them trailing him, out of Headquarters. In front, before that imposing white colonial building, on the sidewalk in fact, he gave a press conference, impromptu.
With another sigh, and after a cup of coffee, and some brief consultations with various and sundry Headquarters men, and a glance at the teleprinter, Surcher returned to the Interrogation Room.
As soon as he walked in, he gave a signal to Grady, who stopped his questioning and walked away from the boy. In fact, he walked out of the room. He looked like he had been working hard. The last question Surcher had just caught as he was entering the room had been the roughest yet. The boy hadn’t answered. Now, slowly, looking up to see what was going on, he met Surcher’s gaze. The boy looked sullen, angry, ready to knock him down. Surcher studied him. He was in control of himself.
“Hello, Jim,” he greeted him, in his friendly way.
“Where’s my lawyer?” The boy said.
“Listen, you’ll see him anytime.”
“Has he showed up?”
“Not yet,’’ Surcher, much to his regret, had to say.
“You oughta let me go—” The lad said.
“Jim, I’d sure like to. You know that.”
The boy stared at him.
“You’re gonna look great—Real Great—Ever think of that?” He said.
Surcher didn’t reply to that.
“What happens now?” Jim said.
“Oh—few more questions—”
“Few hundred, you mean—”
“How are you?”
“Ha Ha!”
“Just my lawyer, that’s all, man.”
“I’m sorry you’re going to miss football practice—”
“Yeh, I know you must be.”
“Jim, were you in Assembly yesterday morning?” “Brother! Yehr
“How come your home-room teacher doesn’t remember?”
“Listen—you’re like a record, man!”
“When did you write that note to her, anyhow, Jim?” “About the same time I wrote you one.”
“You’re sure giving me a rough time, Jim. Put yourself in my shoes—”
“What size are they?”
“You’re not helping at all, Jim—I mean that.”
The boy said nothing.
“Let’s go back to yesterday morning, Jim—”
“Take your buddy boy Grady with you—” the lad said. “Was he rough on you, Jim?”
“Listen, he’s a sweetie, man.”
“He’s tired, Jim. He works too hard. I don’t know when he last saw his wife—” He paused—“I’m sorry he was rough on you.”
The boy stared at him.
“When’s the first time you asked her for a date, Jim?” Surcher asked, quietly. . . .
Tiger walked along the hallway toward the Guidance/ Counseling Office, after Drama class, and play tryouts, which were one and the same today, of course. He was very satisfied. It would be alright. There certainly was a lot of talent in the school, good old Sawyersville, it was some place, and no denying it, Tiger chuckled to himself, proudly. Rochelle alone would one day without a doubt rank with the greatest of them, of all time, if she wanted to. Already, that astounding girl was halfway there. Watching her, listening to her was a spellbinder, alright He couldn’t wait to see the show produced, that first night would be something. That wasn’t a bad idea at all of Sandy’s about Six Characters. It was powerful, dramatic stuff. If done right. And he was sure Rochelle as the daughter would be absolutely right. She would do her as she had never been done before, he was sure of it What a perfect peach of a part for her. What a part Yes, Sandy certainly had a great little idea there. He would start seriously looking into it. Who would they get to play the little boy and the little girl though? Tiger wondered. Maybe somebody from the grade school. That was it. Jane, his own Jane would do! What a chance for her! Tiger chuckled again. Looby Loo sure would get a kick out of it Ronnie of course would be the father. That would be his toughest role yet, but he knew he could count on him. Tiger kept musing over it. He was actually on his way to football practice now, the schoolday being over. He just wanted to stop by the office to drop off some books and also to check this and that. He thought about Anne Williams. She had read those lines just a little bit too fast, that was the trouble there. He would tell her, next time he saw her. He was surprised Marie hadn’t mentioned it She usually did, on those things. Football Practice. Tiger felt a little low suddenly thinking about that How would the boys