The door opened.
A flurry of women in leotards, tights, leg warmers.
Ooooo, it’s still raining…
See you tomorrow, Betty…
Call me, Fran…
And Leona Summerville appeared in the doorframe in yellow and black, grimacing at the rain. Her umbrella snapped open like a spinnaker. She rushed for her car, long antelope strides, yellow legs flashing like streaks of sunshine in the pervading gloom.
Now we see who she called, Warren thought, and started the Ford.
“She went straight home,” Warren told Matthew on the phone. “I stayed outside there till five-thirty, when Frank got home. She didn’t budge from the house.”
“Okay, good,” Matthew said.
“You want me to pick up on her later tonight? I’m on my way now to see Charlie Henderson, find out who was doing what to whom while Parrish was getting himself juked. But if you can find out whether she plans to go out tonight, I can maybe be waiting when she leaves.”
“I’ll check with Frank,” Matthew said.
“Does he want me to catch her?” Warren asked.
“He simply wants to know.”
“An axiom of the trade…” Warren started, and caught himself.
“Yes, what?”
“A guy puts a detective on his wife, Matthew, he already knows she’s fucking around. That’s an axiom of the trade.”
“Well… let’s see,” Matthew said.
“I’ll call you when I finish with Henderson.”
“I’ll be home,” Matthew said.
“Talk to you,” Warren said, and hung up.
Charles Henderson was a stockbroker with the firm of Lloyd, Mallory, Forbes on Main Street in downtown Calusa. He was the only employee still there when Warren arrived at ten minutes to six. He explained to Warren that he himself usually went home at five-thirty; the exchange closed in New York at four, and the firm’s switchboard shut down at five, so there was no sense hanging around.
“Unless, of course, someone has named me a beneficiary in his insurance policy,” he said, and grinned.
He was a tall, thin man in his early forties, Warren guessed, prematurely white hair, blue eyes, a deep suntan. A framed photograph on his desk showed a woman and two little girls, presumably his wife and daughters. He was dressed as conservatively as a member of Parliament, and he had no speech or body mannerisms that would indicate he was homosexual. But Ishtar Kabul had said he was in bed with Henderson on the morning of January thirtieth.
“So,” Henderson said, “who died?”
“Jonathan Parrish,” Warren said, and watched his eyes.
Nothing flashed there. Not a glimmer of recognition.
“I don’t know the name,” he said. “Are you sure you’ve got the right beneficiary?”
“Do the name Ishtar Kabul ring a familiar note?” Warren said.
Instant spark in the eyes.
Then immediate recovery.
“Who?”
“Ishtar Kabul.”
“I don’t know that name, either,” Henderson said. “What is this?”
“It’s not insurance. And it’s not blackmail, if that’s what you think.”
“No, what I think is I’d better call the police.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Who are you?”
“Warren Chambers.”
“You said…”
“Only so I could talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About where you were on the morning of January thirtieth.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I asked a question.”
“So did I.”
“This sounds like Pinter.”
“Who’s Pinter?” Warren said.
Henderson stared at him.
“Are you a policeman?”
Warren shook his head. “Private investigator,” he said.
“Investigating what?”
“Investigating for a law firm.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“My grandfather always told me if I didn’t like any particular question I should just answer a different question.”
“I was in Savannah, Georgia,” Henderson said.
“On the thirtieth?”
“No, on the seventh. I’m following your grandfather’s advice.”
“Oh? Didn’t you like my particular question, Mr. Henderson?”
“What was the question?”
“The question was about the thirtieth of January. A Saturday morning. Seven o’clock last Saturday morning, the thirtieth of January. Where were you?”
“If that’s the question, you’re right. I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t like any of this. You come here under false pretenses…”
“Yes.”
“Mention names of people I don’t know…”
“You don’t know Ishtar Kabul?”
“Never heard of him.”
“Then how do you know he’s a he? Ishtar could be a woman’s name.”
“Male, female, or three-eyed pig, I have no knowledge of anyone named Ishtar Kabul.”
“Not even carnal knowledge?”
Watch the eyes.
Wary now.
“I’m a married man,” Henderson said. “If you’re suggesting…”
“I know you’re married.”
“How do you…? Oh, of course, the photograph.”
“No, Ishtar told me.”
“I have two children…”
“Yes, I know.”
“Ishtar again?”
“No, the photograph.”
“Are we back to Pinter?”
“Who’s Pinter?” Warren said again.
“What is this law firm looking for? The firm you represent?”
“A murderer,” Warren said.
“Did this Kabul person murder someone?”
“Our client saw someone in black running from the scene of the crime.”
“This Kabul person?”
“Ishtar was wearing black at a party on the night before the murder.”
“Has he no other clothing, this Kabul person?”
“I’m going to level with you, Mr. Henderson. I gave Ishtar a lot of bullshit about our client maybe identifying him, but the truth is our client never saw the person’s face and wouldn’t know Ishtar from a hole in the ground.”
“Then surely this Kabul person has nothing to worry about.”
“Not so. We can take a sworn deposition from him. If he sticks to his alibi, and if you deny the alibi, then he’s hiding something. And the State Attorney would be duty bound to find out what he’s hiding.”
“And what alibi is that, Mr. Chambers?”
“You tell me.”
“I assume this Kabul person said he was with me.”
“Why do you assume that?”
“You mentioned carnal knowledge…”
“I did.”
“So I have to assume…”
“You assume correctly.”
“This Kabul person said he was with me, is that it?”
“Yes, this Kabul person said you were in bed together on the morning of the thirtieth, is what this Kabul person said.”
“And if I say we weren’t?”
“We take it from there.”
“To where?”
“To the deposition. Under oath.”
“Then take it from there, Mr. Chambers. This Kabul person wasn’t with me, and I wasn’t with him. Neither of us was with each other, the man is lying, it was nice meeting you.”
“You recognize…”
“Of course.”
“His alibi…”
“I’m married.”
“If he can’t prove…”
“Entirely his problem.”
“The State Attorney will…”
“Let him.”
“He loves you.”
“The State Attorney?”
“Are we doing Pinter again?” Warren asked.
“Who’s Pinter?” Henderson said.
Silence.
“Gee,” Warren said. “I forgot to tell you the next step.”