"Likes to hurt you, doesn't he?"
"How did you know that?"
"That's the kind of guy he is. I want to take him, Betty.
With your help."
"Take him? You mean arrest him?"
"No.
"Kill him?"
"No. Just teach him to straighten up and fly right."
"You want to do that here?"
"That's right."
"He'll kill me," she said.
"You take him here and you don't kill him, he'll come back and kill me."
"I don't think so," Detective Calazo said.
"I think that after I get through with him, he'll stay as far away from you as he can get. So you'll lose one customer-big deal."
"I don't like it," she said.
"Betty, I don't see where you have any choice. I don't want to close you down, I really don't, though I could do it. All I want to do is punish this scumbag. If he does come back, you can always tell him the cops made you do it."
She thought about it a long time. She went to the small refrigerator and poured herself a glass of sweet wine. Calazo waited patiently.
"If he gets too heavy," Betty Lee said finally, "I could always go to Baltimore for a while. I got a sister down there.
She's in the game, too."
"Sure you could," the detective said, "but believe me, he's not going to come on heavy. Not after I get through with him."
She took a deep breath.
"How do you want to handle it?" she asked him.
He told her. She listened carefully.
"It should work," she said.
"Give it to him good."
Detectives Venable and Estrella walked in on Mrs. Gladys Ferguson without calling first. They didn't want her phoning Mrs. Yesell and saying something like: "Blanche, two police officers are coming to ask me about you and our bridge club.
What on earth is going on?"
Mrs. Ferguson turned out to be a tall, dignified lady who had to be pushing eighty. She walked with a cane, and one of her shoes had a builtup sole, about three inches thick. She was polite enough to the two cops after they identified themselves, but cool and aloof.
"Ma'am," Estrella started, "we'd like to ask you a few questions in connection with a criminal investigation we're conducting. Your answers could be very important. I'm sure you'll want to cooperate."
"What kind of a criminal investigation?" she asked.
"Into what? I've had nothing to do with any crime."
"I'm sure you haven't," Detective Estrella said.
"This involves the whereabouts of witnesses on a night a crime was committed." She stared at him.
"And that's all you're going to tell me?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"Will I be called to testify?" she said sharply.
"At a trial?"
"Oh, no," Detective Helen Venable said hastily.
"It's really not a sworn statement we want from you or anything like that.
Just information."
"Very well then. What is it you wish to know?","Mrs. Ferguson,"
Estrella said, "are you a member of a bridge club that meets on Friday nights?"
Her composure was tried, but it held.
"What on earth," she said in magisterial tones, "does my bridge club have to do with any criminal activity?"
"Ma'am," Helen said, beginning to get teed off, "if you keep asking us questions, we're going to be here all day. It'll be a lot easier for all of us if you just answer our questions.
Are you a member of a bridge club that meets on Friday nights?"
"I am."
Estrella: "Every Friday night?"
"That is correct."
Venable: "How long has this club been meeting?"
"Almost five years now. We started with two tables. But members died or moved away. Now we're down to one."
Estrella: "And you've never missed a single Friday night in those five years?"
"Never. We're very proud of that."
Venable: "Have all the current members of the club been together for five years?"
"No. There have been several changes. But the four of us have been playing together for-oh, I'd say about two years."
Estrella: "I presume you rotate as hostesses. The game is held at a different home each Friday?"
"That is correct. I wish you would tell me exactly what you're trying to get at."
Estrella: "Do you recall a Friday night early in November this year?
There was a tremendous rainstorm-one of the worst we've ever had."
"There's nothing wrong with my memory, young man. I remember that night very well."
Venable: "In spite of the dreadful weather, your bridge club met?"
"You're not listening to me, young lady. I told you we have not missed a single Friday night in almost five years."
Estrella: "And at whose home was the game that particular night?"
"Right here. That is one of the reasons I remember it so clearly. It was supposed to be held at the home of another member. But the weather was so miserable, I called the others and asked if they'd mind coming to me." She tapped her built-up shoe with her cane.
"Because of this, I don't navigate too well in foul weather. The other members kindly agreed to come here. It wasn't a great imposition; they all live within two blocks."
Venable: "At whose home was the game originally scheduled?"
"Mrs. Blanche Yesell."
Venable: "But she came here instead?"
"Must I repeat everything twice?" Mrs. Gladys Ferguson said testily.
"Yes, she came here instead, as did the others."
Estrella: "We just want to make certain we understand your answers completely, Mrs. Ferguson. What time do you ladies usually meet?"
"The game starts at eight-thirty, promptly. The members usually arrive a little before that. We end at ten-thirty, exactly.
Then the hostess serves tea and coffee with cookies or a cake.
Everyone usually departs around eleven o'clock."
Detective Venable took out her notebook.
"We already know that you and Mrs. Blanche Yesell are two of the members. Could you give us the names and addresses of the other two?"
"Is that absolutely necessary?"
Estrella: "Yes, it is. You'll be assisting in the investigation of a violent crime."
"That's hard to believe-the Four Musketeers involved in a violent crime.
That's what we call ourselves: the Four Musketeers." Venable: "The names and addresses, please."
The detectives spent the next two days questioning the other two members of the club. They were both elderly widows of obvious probity. They corroborated everything that Mrs. Gladys Ferguson had stated.
"Well," Estrella said, staring at his opened notebook, "unless the Four Musketeers are the greatest criminal minds since the James Gang, it looks like Mrs. Yesell is lying in her teeth.
She wasn't home that night, and her daughter is still on the hook."
"Son of a bitch!" Helen Venable said bitterly.
"I still can't believe Joan was the murderer. Brian, she's just not the type."
"What type is that?" he asked mildly.
"She's human, isn't she? So she's capable."
"But why? She keeps saying how much she admired the doctor."
"Who knows why?" he said, shrugging.
"We'll let Delaney figure that out. Let's go up to Midtown North and borrow a typewriter. We'll work on the report together. I'd like to get it to Sergeant Boone tonight. I have a heavy date with a Ouija board."
"And I was going to share an apartment with her," Venable mourned.
"Count yourself lucky," Estrella advised.
"You could have picked Jack the Ripper." – "I hope you have some good news for me," First Deputy Commissioner Ivar Thorsen said.
"I sure could use some. The Admiral was slumped in a leather club chair in the study, gripping a beaker of Glenfiddich and water, staring into it as if it might contain the answers to all his questions.