“Who was the last one to leave?”
“Two of them came away together, luckily for them. Frankie and Armstrong with him. Freeman was left there alone. But none of us ran into each other right away. You know how long the Boardwalk is down there. Any one of us could have slipped back a moment before joining the rest. Freeman never showed up, and when we went back to try to coax him into a good humor, he was hanging there. Again the coroner’s inquest finding was suicide while of unsound mind, due to the heat and too much alcohol. That’s about all. We took Thatcher in to replace him. And now—”
Lindsey said: “All right, you’ve given me the general outline of the thing. Now let’s get down to cases. Were there any grudges between this Deering and the others?”
“No, all the fellows liked him. He was a swell guy, even if he was a crooner.”
“How about Freeman?”
“All of them had trouble with him that night. But nothing serious enough to create any animosity, just grouchiness. Dusty was the only one he was careful not to talk out of turn to, because after all Dusty is the boss.”
“Could there have been some private trouble that you didn’t know anything about?”
“No. I was like that with all of them.” She crossed two fingers. “I knew the very laundry-marks on their shirts by heart. You have about as much privacy as a goldfish, in our racket.”
“How about money?”
“No. We’ll none of us die rich and we don’t give a rap about money.”
“Women?”
“None of them ever stepped on the other boys’ toes in that respect.”
“No offense, but how about you yourself? Thatcher did annoy you lately. You admit that yourself. Either of the other two do that? Because I’ve still got to count your brother in on this, after all is said and done.”
“Lynn Deering didn’t have time enough to tip his hat to anyone while that society deb was around his neck. And Freeman was a man’s man, not much of a chaser. Frankie isn’t the protective sort. It’s the other way around. I’ve had to look after him half the time.”
“Then I’m afraid any rational motive is out, and we’re up against the worst kind of thing — irrational homicidal mania. Doesn’t care who he kills when the kill-mood is on him. But what brings it on? If we only knew that, we could set a trap for him. There’s some link there that we’ve got to get. Something that aroused it last night, and the time before, and the first time. And didn’t operate all the many other times you’ve held jam-sessions. We can’t sit back and wait another six months for it to occur again. He’s smart, they always are. We won’t know then any more than we know now, unless we’re on our guard ahead of time — one up on him.
“I’ll send for a copy of the inquest findings both from Atlantic City and the other place, but I know already they won’t tell me anything. If they were able to tell me anything now, they would have told the officials on the spot something at the time. Did any of them ever show any signs of being not quite right? I mean act unaccountably at times?”
She shook her head. “Not that I could distinguish. Of course, it could be that I’m with them so much. I’ve grown so used to all their traits, that I can’t tell the difference any more. It would take an outsider.”
“Well, were any of them ever in any accidents?”
She looked mournfully down at the floor. “The wrong one was,” she said slowly. “Frankie and I were both in a pretty bad car smash-up about a year after we got out of school. His nervous system’s never been the same since. But his head wasn’t hurt, nothing like that—” She hid her face suddenly behind her hands. “The more that comes out, the more points to him — and yet I’m as sure as I’m sitting here—”
“I can’t be, of course,” he told her gently, “but I’m hoping. Look, let’s not give up yet. I’m afraid he’ll have to start going through the mill. It’s not in my power to stop that, but if we keep at it, we’ll turn up something yet, I’m sure of it. And of course, not a word to any of them that we’ve had this talk, that the case is still wide open as far as I’m concerned. Do you understand? That would be fatal. Whoever the killer is, he must feel that my colleagues and I are definitely off the scent, are satisfied we have the right man.”
“But even so,” she whimpered, “he won’t show his hand again until... until Frankie’s out of the way and it’s too late. Maniac or not, he’ll realize that if it happens again while Frankie’s being held in jail, that’s proof-evident that Frankie didn’t do it, and the whole thing’ll be reopened. He’ll lie low—”
“He’ll try to, you mean, if we let him. But remember this is something he can’t control. If we can find the link, the right impetus that sets him off, he won’t be able to.”
“Suppose there isn’t any?”
“There has to be. There always is, even in the worst cases of this type.”
“There was a knock at the door, and Hoff the janitor stuck his head in. Your boss is on the wire,” he told Billie. “They got a new man, he says, and they’re down at Dryden Hall, ready to begin rehearsing. They want you down there right away.”
“My brother’s in jail accused of murder, and I’ve got to make sweet music.” She smiled bitterly at the dick.
“Keep your eyes open, now,” Lindsey warned her under his breath. “Watch all of them, watch every little thing that goes on, no matter if it seems important to you or not. And keep in touch with me. Give me your address and phone number, in case I want to reach you.”
He took out a pencil stub, jotted down her address and number, stuck the slip in his pocket.
Chapter Four
Bolero
The new man supplied by the Mad House to take Thatcher’s place was named Cobb. He wouldn’t have been a union-member if he hadn’t known how to handle his instrument, and the tunes were the tunes of the day, familiar to every professional, so it was just a matter of blending him in with the rest of them, smoothing down the rough edges, and memorizing the order in which the numbers came. Even so, Dusty kept them at it until half an hour before it was time to climb on the shell at the Troc. It was, if nothing else, as good a way as any of taking their minds off what had happened.
“We can’t keep it from breaking in the papers,” Dusty told them while they grabbed a quick bite on their way over to work, “because it’s in New York this time and not out in the sticks, but with a little luck we may be able to keep them from digging up about what happened the other two times. Keep your mouths closed now, all of you. Don’t talk to any reporters. The agents’ll all wash their hands of us, and we won’t be able to get a booking for love or money if we once get tagged as a jinx-band. Those things spread around awful quick, and are hard to live down. People don’t want to dance with... with death kind of peering over the musicians’ shoulders at them.” This was said out of earshot of the new man. “And keep quiet about the first two times in front of Cobb.”
The girl just sat there at the end of the counter, sipping her coffee quietly and looking covertly at them one by one. “One of you,” she thought, “sitting so close to me I could reach out and touch you, is a killer. But which one?” It seemed so hard to believe, watching them.